Joe Bonamassa
Had to Cry Today

Bonamassa is a compulsive cover artist. So much so that even for this fourth career album, dated 2004, he titles it after one of the covers it contains, the most prestigious and successful one. It's a half masterpiece by Steve Winwood which at the time (1969) opened the first and only album of Blind Faith, a fleeting supergroup from Birmingham, who, in a temporary pause from Traffic, teamed up with the fiery stars Clapton and Baker, and the calm midfielder Rich Grech, only to disband after their first tour due to too much collective drug use. In the original, there’s a long guitar duel between Clapton and Winwood... here Bonamassa provides it solo, simply changing guitars and tape tracks. But the song was, and always will be, excellent, especially for its bold mix between a long, woody riff, truly memorable, contrasted by an arabesque chorus that slips into surprising, almost disorienting tones: a true symbol of the compositional skill of the young Steve, barely twenty at the time of Blind Faith. Bonamassa gives a respectful version, but more robust and masculine as per his style, ultimately excellent.

This time, the mix of covers and originals reads 4 and 7 respectively. Among the covers is the often-heard “Reconsider Baby” by blues master Lowell Fulson, which Clapton also revisited on his celebrated “From The Cradle.” Here it is layered with organ and blatantly structured in the style of “Since I’ve Been Loving You,” the grand masterpiece from Led Zeppelin's third album in 1970. Less known is “Never Make Your Move Too Soon” by the indispensable B.B. King, on which Joe is eager to inform us, through the liner notes, that his version is inspired by the sound of the second Jeff Beck Group, from the early seventies... with a hint of funky à la Steve Wonder. The super nerd persistently replicates, informing us that the present version of “Travellin’ South” by the spirited Albert Collins is rendered in the style of early Ten Years After, since he saw and heard it played by them, deriving great pleasure: true... the guitar travels in a kind of “I’m Going Home” style, stopped and tight.

Then there are the originals by Bonamassa and possibly collaborators, and it’s here that the album logically assumes, at least in my view, greater interest. Not all are fantastic, but a couple are, such as “Around the Bend,” which has something Irish or Scottish about it and emotionally evokes the barren hills and the endless green of those lands. Or “When She Dances,” a piece vaguely in the style of Dire Straits but above all a great, melancholic, and sentimental atmosphere. These latter pieces take Joe away from strictly observed rock blues, diversify his offering, and remove any cloying quality from his albums. That veiled example on “The River,” entirely owing to the structure and arrangement of the monumental “When the Levee Breaks,” which it obviously doesn’t even get close to.

With the same drum rhythm, but at double speed, there is “Revenge of the 10 Gallon Hat,” a virtuosic rag in which Bonamassa travels nimbly as a skilled countryman, resembling Albert Lee. Who is Albert Lee? Someone terrifying! Watching him play live is frightening; for guitarists, it's depressing. Still in slightly virtuosic territory, but always with due passion, there is also the final instrumental “Faux Mantini”: an acoustic on the right, one on the left chasing each other, accompanying, sometimes going in unison, skillfully.

One of the best works from the New York State guitarist, “tainted” by the usual, repeated (and honestly admitted) reliance on his many idols. I forgive him: the desire, the energy, the planning are vehement and sincere. Four and a half stars.