Traffic
John Barleycorn Must Die

I know, this isn't a literary site, but my thoughts go straight to "Memoirs of a Drinker," (subtitle "The Fatal Encounter with John Barleycorn"), a sincere and deep confessional book by Jack London, the great and underrated American writer, better known for action novels like "The Call of the Wild."
Who is John Barleycorn? In English and American folklore, he has, for centuries, embodied the "spirit of the grain," his ability to transform into alcohol (beer, whisky, or whatever you prefer). A little man you wouldn't give a penny to, depicted with a barrel-shaped body and a full moon face with a clueless smile, but in the long run, capable of proving stronger than men seasoned by a life full of hardships. Jack London, with the experience of someone who has long been a slave to John Barleycorn, helps us understand, without false prohibitionist moralism, how great his strength is, how he is always available when there's an obstacle to overcome, how he makes us feel more sincere, more in tune with the world, and at the same time slowly digs a trench between us and others.

This ambiguous character, inviting and repelling, must have also captured the imagination of Traffic, who in 1970 picked up one of the countless versions of the folk song "John Barleycorn (Must Die)" to transform it into one of the most inspired acoustic ballads ever, with a delicate weave of guitars, brushed here and there with twilight colors by a fairy-tale flute. There's no doubt, it's pure magic, but it's like a majestic umbrella pine emerging somehow in a dense forest of oaks: it fits with Traffic and their music like il culo con le quarant'ore (an ancient Etruscan saying of uncertain origin). The rest of this memorable album stands to demonstrate that the territory of Steve Winwood & Co. is another. The so-called "Traffic sound," so original that it deserves a specific name, is a soul-jazz base seasoned with a refined and baroque instrumentation, worthy of the burgeoning progressive of that era.

Difficult to categorize but exceptionally modern for the time: Traffic anticipated the jazz revival of the '80s by at least a decade. From the initial "Glad," a brilliant instrumental with a robust rhythmic base and a suggestive organ background, over which both the piano and sax frolic with their acrobatics, you can feel that these guys are traveling several years ahead. "Freedom Rider" only confirms it, with the added value of the genius fluttering flute of Chris Wood and the black-toned voice, typically soul, of the very white Englishman Steve Winwood, at times a chilling reincarnation of Otis Redding, who had recently passed at that time. Great keyboard show also in "Empty Pages," with the classic organ background punctuated by precious and sparkling jazz piano notes, while a bit more faithful to the blues canons, but always with ample freedom for imaginative solos, is "Stranger To Himself": in this case, it's the electric guitar that reigns supreme. In the brief "I Just Want You To Know," drummer Jim Capaldi (who died just this year, at 60) with sharp and close beats allows himself to anticipate the "Police style" of Stewart Copeland.
The album, the original one, would end here, with our ears already sated, but in the CD, they've added excellent "bonus tracks," of which at least one deserves mention: it's "Every Mothers Son," a true organ lesson by Professor Steve Winwood.

This masterpiece, to which no one would give 35 years, was born during yet another reunion of a band with a short and troubled history, full of breakups, departures, and reunions, and yet capable of leaving a beautiful mark in the history of music.