Dr. John
Locked Down

“Sometimes They Come Back”

If it is true, quoting the good Simon Reynolds and his recently published essay “Retromania”, that the past has now invaded the musical present, burdening musicians and listeners with artistic references just a click away, the fear that the music world will be increasingly dominated by old rock geezers (or even worse by young “old” musicians, devoted to record-collection rock), can turn from a specter into a tangible reality.

So, why talk about the new album by Mac Rebennack, aka Dr. John? I could recommend discovering his debut “Gris Gris” or the subsequent one, to savor the creole mix that the “Night Tripper” was boiling up in New Orleans at the end of the '60s, coupling Caribbean tradition, hypnotic voodoo dances, and jazz-blues tradition, and leave it at that. Instead, it is necessary to talk about this “Locked Down”, because there is not a trace of mold or staleness.

The good Mac, like any self-respecting revenant, returns to the spotlight, shaking off the dust of a career that, after its beginnings, continued on the tracks of a solid (but more canonical) jazz blues. Much of the credit rightly goes to Dan Auerbach, the mastermind behind the Black Keys, who tracked him down and brought him back to the studio, producing the album and playing with the doctor. Hats off to one who, even if for many has sold his wild garage blues creature to the majors, uses the means at his disposal to help rediscover a great artist, also managing to refresh his artistic vein.

From the opening title track, with the doctor's organ dueling with Auerbach's guitar in a scorching funk soul, to the '60s classicism of “God's Sure Good”, the album flows with the ease of a timeless “classic”. Among a Tom Waits soul that sounds like “Minnie The Moocher” (“Big Shot”), beat syncopations worthy of Bobby Womack (“Ice Age”), voodoo memories with prog flute (“Eleggua”), to a brilliant encounter between Mississippi jazz blues and the ethio-jazz of Mulatu Astatke (“You Lie” but especially the beautiful “Revolution”), the missed beats are nearly non-existent. The gold palm anyway goes to “Getaway”: funk-blues-like, soulful crescendo, final restart with Auerbach's sensational solo.

The doctor may no longer be the Voodoo wizard of yesteryear, but even though he's 72, he doesn't seem to want to become worm food. And then, if that's the case, he can always ask Baron Samedi to lend him a hand.