Review: Ronnie Hawkins - Mr. Dynamo (1960)
Tracks: 1) Clara; 2) Hey Boba Lou; 3) Someone Like You; 4) Dreams Do Come True; 5) Hay Ride; 6) Honey Don’t; 7) Lonely Hours; 8) Sick And Tired; 9) Love Me Like You Can; 10) You Cheated, You Lied; 11) Baby Jean; 12) Southern Love.
REVIEW
Ronnie’s second LP for Roulette Records came out only a few months after the debut, so there would be little reason to expect any serious changes — yet changes there have been, some merely foreshadowing major future events, others rather reflective of the times. On the trivia front, the most notable fact is the appearance of two tracks (‘Hey Boba Lou’ and ‘Someone Like You’) co-credited to Ronnie, the ubiquitous «Jacqueline Magill», and an aspiring young musician by the name of Robbie Robertson — who, as of late 1959 / early 1960, was still playing in Toronto with his own band, the Suedes, but was already developing a friendship with Ronnie and Levon, occasionally joining them for live shows, serving as a roadie, and, apparently, even participating in their recording sessions in New York — although, to the best of my understanding, Mr. Dynamo still features no actual contributions from Robertson, other than the above-mentioned songwriting credits and, according to some sources, some advice on which songs from their live set the Hawks should select for their record.
In all honesty, though, I fail to discern any «Robertson-esque» spirit on those two songs — it’s not even the fact that a 16-year old kid could hardly have been expected to have any individual «spirit», it’s more like Ronnie probably just wanted to give the youngster a friendly pat on the back for suggesting a chord change or a lyrical line or something, because the songs are not in any way substantially different from all the other quasi-original compositions. And speaking of substantial, this is where we run into a bit of trouble: despite the cocky title, Mr. Dynamo is notably richer in «light» material, ranging from old-fashioned doo-wop to the sentimental side of the Buddy Holly influence, than its predecessor. Much more than earlier, Ronnie is trying to emphasize the soulful angle of his cowboy nature, which is not a particularly embarrassing or unlikable angle, but certainly not the one to help promote him as an embodiment of pure rock’n’roll for the upcoming new decade.
In fact, when it comes to pure, distilled rock’n’roll, the only song here to properly carry that spirit is a cover of Carl Perkins’ ‘Honey Don’t’, which the Hawks do in their usual «rodeo» style, propelled by Levon’s galloping drums and featuring a pretty categorical "ah-ah, honey don’t" from Ronnie — the guy did have a subtle way of using his seemingly wimpy, high-pitched vocal to intimidate the audience, or at least the deuteragonist of the song itself. I suppose that ‘Clara’, the Hawks’ slightly poppified take on the Bo Diddley beat, could also classify as rock’n’roll, but the best thing about the song is arguably the percussion — a tricky mix of bongos and cowbells in one channel and some regular (though fairly quiet) drumming in the other. If it’s really Levon, this puts another feather in his cap (or medal on his chest, whatever); but even if it is Levon, it’s not enough to save the song from being just a tribute.
Somewhat better are the soul-infused danceable numbers like ‘Hey Boba Lou’ and ‘Southern Love’. The former (although it could certainly do without those «exotic» female backup vocals) reveals a pleasant marriage between Ronnie’s vocals and the accompanying snowy organ, conjuring a bit of genuine desperation even against the ridiculousness of writing a song about somebody called «Boba Lou». The latter is essentially ‘The Return Of Boba Lou’ with all of its flaws and virtues, just featuring slightly better lyrics and a more obvious debt to old blues chestnuts such as Little Walter’s ‘My Babe’. It’s interesting to contrast ‘Southern Love’ with ‘Whatcha Gonna Do (When The Creek Runs Dry)’ from the previous album — both are, in a way, the same song, but the former was faster, more rocking and sneering-aggressive in spirit, while ‘Southern Love’ is slower and decidedly more melancholic. It’s as if Ronnie was trying to discover and develop this sensitive, vulnerable side to himself — which kinda makes his marketing as «Mr. Dynamo» a little deceptive.
The more doo-woppy side of that vulnerability is listenable, but absolutely unexceptional (‘Lonely Hours’; ‘You Cheated, You Lied’), and I am not sure that for a guy like Ronnie it ever made sense to intrude on the turf of somebody like Ricky Nelson (whom Ronnie could probably take out with a single punch). Stuff like ‘Hay Ride’, if I’m not mistaken, is an attempt to adapt the nascent surf-rock sound to heartland realities — culturologically hilarious, anthropologically ridiculous. All that remains, then, is marvel at how adeptly the rhythm section adapts Fats Domino to the Hawks’ paradigm: ‘Sick And Tired’ once again features some groovy percussion, as Levon decorates that steady bassline with his fills and trills like a Christmas tree with fancy homemade ornaments.
Although ‘Clara’ and ‘Southern Love’ were both released as singles, this was a hopeless affair from the start — perhaps they sold a bit in Canada, but neither had the tiniest influence across the border, and, honestly, it is hard to imagine how they could have. At least ‘Forty Days’ gave out a shot of fresh energy: one could argue that Ronnie and Levon managed to reinvent and revitalize the Chuck Berry groove in a special way. But with Bo Diddley, ‘Clara’ fails to generate the same level of vitality, and who needed a pale shadow of Bo Diddley in 1960 if Bo Diddley was still around to produce a pale shadow of himself in the first place? All in all, Mr. Dynamo is nice enough to be listened to, but it also pretty much made it clear that Ronnie would forever get stuck in his «boy from Arkansas makes it big in Toronto clubs» loop, with few hopes of a bigger, brighter future anywhere down the line. From here on, his chief importance for history would be to serve as the focus of attraction for people more gifted than himself.
Only Solitaire reviews: Ronnie Hawkins