Feel Like Going Home: Portraits in Blues and Rock 'n' Roll

Not up there with his best, but still pretty darn good

Though originally published in 1971, so a little dated, this book gives a great "Cook's Tour" of the blues and some early rock and roll - touching on greats such as Charlie Patton, Son House, Muddy Waters, Howlin Wolf, Charlie Rich, Jerry Lee Lewis and Chess & Sun records. As such its a little lite on detail, but its a great introduction by an author who obviously loves the music and can really get it across in his prose. With those earlier caveats in mind, well worth buying.

In the course of doing this book I became aware of two things. First, that my enthusiasm fo rthe music continued unabated. And second, that I would have to stop writing about it - for while anyway - if I wanted it to remain so." (p.241).

We don't live in a world that can produce "the blues" anymore. The world of poverty, old time religion, racial segregation and spattering of gin mills across the South proliferated the amplified songs of old spirituals to new voices. Hardly about money, few of these artists lived to find an audience. Hardly about success, with the exception of Jerry Lee Lewis, none of these artists thought much of their own success. And for many of them their roads and lives feel as unscripted with only God and life's dice taking a roll on their fate.

Chapters are dedicated to artists like Muddy Waters, Howlin Wolf, Johnny Shines, Skip James, Jerry Lee Lewis and Charlie Rich. These are rough portraits, of men in the late stage of their career. Their reflections, and the world's reflection of them is taken into consideration. Muddy Waters, who seems to have had more commerical success than any other blues musician shares that blues was practically dead, there was nothing in Chicago (p.43). And you begin to see how short a window these men had in their careers, with a folk and British invasion hitting the shores by the early 1960s.

Gularick's writing is reverential but unglamorous. We get the stories of what it means to sing the blues. And with that are themes of authenticity, acceptence in different communities, and the struggles of balancing a passion and being commerically successful. You could imagine life being very different for Muddy Waters had he never gotten a guitar, or for Skip Jones if he never asked a rich socialite about a guitar she had. Very few of the artists did shows outside their immediate homes, having little time or financial backing to launch road tours.

One of the joys of course was to listen to the superb music of the times. There's nothing like hearing the bewitching posessed sound of Robert Johnson's landmar 1937 sessions, or the crackling passion of Howlin Wolf, the fiery zest of Jerry Lee Lewis or the amplified riffs of Muddy Waters, while listening to this. Understanding how these artists borrowed from each other, like Carl Perkins immortally song reworked by Elvis, "Blue Suede Shoes", shows just how undefined the industry was. Sun Records and Chess Records, both defunct now, vitally expanded the audience to the sounds of American blues and the beginning sounds of rock and roll.

So in many ways, the story is an American story. An era that is gone, and immortalized more from genration of rock bands (Cream, Rolling stones, White Stripes, Black Keys), and their timeless recordings. But of course, the music helped breakdown racial and cultural barriers (p.61). These musicians who left a mark on their era, and found themselves adrift from the music culture as we entered the social change of the sixities. Written in 1972, Guralnick's interviews reflect how deep that cultural change displaced the music of the WW2 generation. And it may be the ultimate reminder that all music is rooted in a time and place, it's up to us to keep it's fire glowing.

I love reading Peter Guralnick’s books on music. Written in early 70s, this one tells the story of some of the early blues artists. A very informative read.

Peter Guralnick is my favorite music writer, and it's been a fun journey reading through his first three books that form a trilogy of American roots music. This was his first book to my knowledge, and the fact that it was written 50 years ago gives it an added interest because of its closeness to the sources who are long gone. The book focuses on the blues, but also connects them to a couple of the earliest Sun Records rockabillies and their world. This seemed like the perfect book to kick of a series of books I'll be reading this year surrounding the subject of the blues, a study I've been wanting to do for at least a decade. There were profiles of artists in here I knew well that were fun to read like that of Muddy Waters, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Charlie Rich. There were also great introductions to the work of artists I didn't know like Johnny Shines and Robert Pete Williams.

If you're interested in American roots music at all, this book and the other two works in the series are essential reading I can't recommend enough. That discography section will keep you busy a long time by itself!

This kinda reads like the work of a music blogger operating 30 or 40 years before such a thing existed, but with a lot less irony poisoning, identity politics and what have you. Thank god. It's amazing to think how little we know about the artists from 50 to 60-plus years ago compared to the nonstop stream of information we receive about today's artists (if you can call them that), and I was struck by some of the similarities between ancient blues men and today's rappers.

Guralnick's book, the second I've read from him after the brilliant Sweet Soul Music, is an interesting look at a time past in two ways. First and foremost of course it is a book about the blues greats of the olden days, who at the time of book had already seen the heights of blues' mass popularity, at least from a distance. On the other hand, it is story written from a view point of the beginning of 1970s when these greats, for most parts, were still alive and kicking. Sadly, they are not anymore, creating the double tragedy behind the story, the sad blues playing in the background, if you will.

Guralnick writes as a fan, a fan that somewhat reluctantly has to meet his heroes. He approaches them with reverence and doesn't shy away from superlatives and praises. Yet he does not get carried away: he approaches his subjects with a critical eye. He questions their memories, tries to look behind the smoke and mirrors, and brings in a narrative that doesn't let these great men become just mythology. As a consequence, the tales told seem real; they are drenched in sweat, tears and, occasionally, laughter. This is a story, not a tall tale.

At best Guralnick pieces together a fascinating story of a music and its makers. However, this is a book for an aficionado, it is full people whom a person with only a passing knowledge of blues has never heard about and as such finds sometimes hard times staying interested in. On the other hand, this is one of the tragedies of the book that makes it sing so sorrowfully. If these artist where somewhat obscure in the beginning of the 1970s, they are infinitely more so now. Perhaps their music is available for download, but you need the name for the search first. Of course, this book provides them, and, while it will probably not prove as expensive reading as the aforementioned Guralnick, it will cause me to buy a few records I dare say; Guralnick is that good.

This is a 3 1/2 star book only because for the first 40 or so pages I thought I had received the wrong Kindle file. It was 40 pages of ‘oh how good are Boomers? We invented Rock n Roll and we did everything else’. You do you boo, but I don’t need 40 pages of nostalgic drivel before I get to the profiles on true Blues legends.

Having said that, when Bobby Boomer shuts up and writes the profile, it’s a good read. Just skip the first 20% of the book.