Review - Lonnie Donegan: Lonnie Rides Again (1959)
Tracks: 1) Fancy Talking Tinker; 2) Miss Otis Regrets; 3) Gloryland; 4) Jimmy Brown The Newsboy; 5) Mr. Froggy; 6) Take This Hammer; 7) The Gold Rush Is Over; 8) You Pass Me By; 9) Talking Guitar Blues; 10) John Hardy; 11) The House Of The Rising Sun; 12) San Miguel.
In early 1959, Lonnie committed the worst mistake of his entire career (or not?) by recording ‘Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor (On The Bedpost Overnight)?’, an ancient novelty song from the radio repertoire of The Happiness Boys in the 1920s which quickly became not only one of his biggest hits in his native country, but also the Lonnie Donegan song in the United States — his own ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’, if you wish, the one that somehow made him into a household name across the Atlantic, with many a kid from the early Sixties still fondly remembering that novelty humor (Bruce Springsteen is allegedly among the self-professed admirers). Of course, it is a fun little vaudeville number, and Lonnie does it the same sort of near-authentic justice that he gave everything else, but it is way on the whimsy-comical side, and recognizing it as the man’s masterpiece is essentially the same as placing ‘Yellow Submarine’ at the top of the Beatles’ pyramid.
One does not need to go much further, though, than Lonnie’s next LP from the same year to witness just how much more breadth and depth this guy had in his prime. Even though he probably never saddled an actual horse in his life (at least, there is definitely no photo evidence in close reach), Lonnie Rides Again is as good a metaphor as possible for this collection, showing him in total control of his folk, blues, ballad, and spiritual instincts; I think that the only place where he actually falters is the closing ‘San Miguel’ — I mean, «cultural appropriation» is one thing when a Scotsman brews up a telepathic connection with his close-of-kin across the Atlantic, but an entirely different one when he sends out his vibes across the Mexican border, the final result giving off a rather comic and instantly dated impression. Fortunately, it is just a very short piece, and it closes the album, so you can just shut it off one song early.
Other than that, it is all good — as usual, never truly exceptional, but consistently listenable and enjoyable. There are only but a few flirtations with rock’n’roll, most notably on the opening number, ‘Fancy Talking Tinker’, Lonnie’s reworking of a traditional folk melody chiseled into the form of a pop-rock (pop-blues?) tune with first-rate electric guitar backing (from Denny Wright, probably) and Lonnie’s half-yodeling, half-rock’n’roll-growling vocal build-ups making these particular deliveries of the age-old cliché "I’m on the road again" almost unforgettable. Another fast-rolling kicker is ‘Gloryland’, which, I guess, sounds exactly as it would end up sounding if you took Blind Willie Johnson, gave him a rhythm section, turned up the speed, and made him inhale a couple of helium balloons before recording — and yes, that’s a compliment. In a way, it is almost a psychedelic experience hearing Lonnie go through all the different vocal ranges and intonations as he turns the second half of the song into a half-comical, half-humble shamanistic experience. As cartoonish as it all may feel next to the old African-American spirituals he is «emulating», the one thing that is absolutely real and genuine is Lonnie’s ability to send himself off into an exuberant trance — and spread that feeling around.
On the slower (and occasionally creepier) side, Lonnie pays homage to Cole Porter with the murder ballad ‘Miss Otis Regrets’ (now here’s one definitely not for the kids), to the Foggy Mountain Boys with a highly credible rendition of ‘Jimmy Brown The Newsboy’, to Leadbelly with ‘Take This Hammer’, and to Hank Snow with ‘The Gold Rush Is Over’. He also delivers a pretty mournful version of ‘The House Of The Rising Sun’ (probably the first version of the song recorded on the other side of the Atlantic?), going for extra expressivity wherever possible — though never reaching the level of paranoia in Bob Dylan’s early cover, let alone the thunderstorm vibes of the Animals. Nevertheless, the atmosphere never truly rubs you the wrong way; like I said, ‘San Miguel’ is probably the only true misstep on the record.
If there are any general complaints, it is only that there is not a single attempt at growth: other than, perhaps, the backing band sounding even tighter and more polished than before, this is just another handful of Americana, tastefully selected from his idols and presented in a pleasant and respectable manner. But this is exactly what Lonnie wanted to do — he had no serious artistic ambitions whatsoever and no Bob Dylan to show him the way it could be done. And who could blame him? The man had chosen to do one job — act as an authentic mouthpiece for grassroots American music in front of British audiences — and he did it to the best of his (and everybody’s) abilities.