Using the word “simple” when describing the Jimmy Reed sound is, at once, both wholly accurate, and yet a grave disservice.  Reed’s plodding sense of guitar phrasing, sly, lazy, “mush mouth” vocals, and basic rack harmonica playing somehow fold together to create one of the blues’ most distinctive and recognizable sounds.  Reed’s catalog is full of blues standards, and it is a testament to his uncanny ability to turn a musical phrase that his influence on legions of current day blues artists still exists.  There is truly a paradoxical intricacy in Reed’s unadorned approach that endures to this day.

Reed came into the world in September, 1925 on a working plantation in Dunleith, Mississippi, an unincorporated area in the mid-to-northwestern portion of the state.  Eddie Taylor, the eventual famed Chicago Vee-Jay label blues recording artist, was two years the senior of Reed, and schooled him on both harmonica and guitar while he was working already at a young age as a part-time professional musician working the familiar circuit of country picnics, suppers, and dances in Reed’s birth area. 

In 1940, at the age of 15, Reed left Mississippi, and in 1943, he found his way to Chicago.  But he was soon drafted into the U.S. Navy where he served for a two-year period.  Upon his discharge, Reed made a short return to Mississippi where he married his wife, Mary.  Deciding to again move north, Reed and his bride settled in the northwestern Indiana city of Gary, located 31 miles east of Chicago.  Here, Reed was able to make a living by taking a job in an Armour Foods meatpacking plant, while also supplementing his family’s income by beginning to make his way into the Gary and Chicago blues scenes.

The celebrated bluesman John Brim was based in Gary as well, and in the early 1950s, Reed worked with his band, the Gary Kings, and contributed his harmonica skills to two of Brim’s classic blues, “Tough Times” and “Gary Stomp”.  Reed also played for small change on the streets, as did many blues artists, often with Willie Joe Duncan, a bluesman who played a one-string instrument called a unitar.  Duncan actually enjoyed a Specialty label release entitled “Unitar Rock”.

Around this period, Reed had an audition with Chicago powerhouse Chess Records, but nothing came of it.  But this turned out to actually be a period of uplift for Reed’s career.  Brim’s drummer during this time was the bluesman who went on the great success as a guitarist and singer, Albert King, and he provided Reed with an introduction to the relatively new label named Vee-Jay. 

At Vee-Jay, Reed was reunited with his boyhood mentor, Eddie Taylor, and the two went on to forge a blues collaboration that continued until Reed’s passing.  Taylor had recorded blues songs for Vee-Jay that are now considered legendary, including “Big Town Playboy”, “Ride ‘Em On Down” and “Bad Boy.”  Taylor’s guitar playing on Reed’s cuts was the proverbial glue that kept the sparse shuffle framework of Reed’s recorded output from falling into disrepair.  It is not a stretch to say that without Taylor’s contributions, there probably would not have been the level of success that Reed enjoyed.

Success for Reed was not immediate.  However, when his third single, “You Don’t Have To Go”, was released, a cut backed by “Boogie In The Dark”, the song rose to the fifth position on the Billboard R&B chart.  This achievement set in motion a ten-year period of producing hits for Reed. 

Not widely known is that Jimmy Reed’s record sales eclipsed those of Chicago blues giants such as Little Walter, Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, and Elmore James, but with all of this success, there was a downside.  Reed, for all his blues talent, was not prepared in any manner for the feats he realized.  Being a virtually illiterate person, combined with a horrendous touring schedule, and also being a terrible alcoholic, all these issues combined to take a sizeable toll on Reed and his career.  Reed tried to downplay and deal with his alcoholism in curious ways, and he fell apart, personally, physically, and professionally to the point where he was the subject of mockery and ridicule among fellow blues artists.  He was the butt of many jokes.  There are multitudes of stories relating to Reed and his behavior due to his alcoholism that almost seem too atrocious to be true.  Yet, in-performance, he could hold court and keep the audience entertained. 

These personal failings also affected Reed in the recording studio.  He became so obliterated by his self-destructive behavior that Taylor had to coach Reed as to when to sing, play his harmonica, and initiate the guitar turnarounds within his songs.  And on top of all this, Reed even needed to often have his wife murmur into his ear the lyrics to the songs he was recording, both songs he authored and ones he did not.  There is evidence of this on several of his recordings where his wife is audibly captured whispering lyrics to him.  “Big Boss Man”, one of Reed’s most famous selections, is one such example.

Reed was also plagued by epilepsy, and the combination with his alcoholism was brutal.  As the effects of both were at their worst, Reed recorded his final single for Vee-Jay, and the label soon thereafter closed-up shop.  But this did not signal the end of recording for Reed.  His manager at the time established a contract with the new ABC-Bluesway imprint for Reed, and a number of albums were released in the 1970s, though none captured the easy-going, economical charm of his Vee-Jay label heyday.  Unfortunately, Reed’s last ABC-Bluesway album was a luckless attempt to try to update his sound with all sorts of studio guiles including using uncharacteristically funky beat structures, and electronic “enhancements” such as the utilization of a wah-wah pedal on his guitar, and the results were broad disasters.

This effort to update Reed’s sound, in many ways, forced him into becoming something of a hermit in his later life, a period where he actually sought medical assistance for his epilepsy, and one where he quit drinking.  This was a twofold tragedy.  First, it is interesting to consider what a healthy Reed could have still produced music-wise.  Second, and probably most important, is the fact that even with cleaning-up, Reed’s years of excesses had taken too grievous a toll on him by this point.

Reed did make a bid for a musical revival, and was appearing at various blues festivals, but he passed in August, 1976.  He was but 51 years of age.

I have made a lot here of the self-destructive nature of Reed, but perhaps the real shame is that his music was truly often quite upbeat and merry.  Reed’s influence extended during his time to fellow blues artists, particularly those who recorded for the swamp blues label Excello, and he had a wide-ranging impact on overseas musicians during the British invasion.  Rock groups such as The Rolling Stones and The Yardbirds owe a debt of gratitude to Reed.  Even Elvis Presley covered his “Big Boss Man.”  Later, The Steve Miller Band covered Reed’s music, and Bob Dylan paid tribute to Reed’s influence with his “Goodbye Jimmy Reed” tune.             

Reed’s music remains timeless blues, and listening to it today harkens to that classic period when blues artists were creating music that was individually their own.  Reed’s blues sound is certainly one-of-a-kind.     

Reed was elected to The Blues Hall Of Fame in 1980, and The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in 1991.              

Below is an essential Reed collection.  All of Reed’s familiar and best-known blues songs are featured, and the compilation provides a great jumping-off point for any blues fan who has an interest (as they should) in this illustrious blues star.

The Best Of Jimmy Reed – Crescendo 2-0006

Song Titles

• High And Lonesome
• Boogie In The Dark
• You Don’t Have To Go
• Take Out Some Insurance
• Ain’t That Lovin’ You Baby
• You Got Me Dizzy
• Down In Virginia
• Honest I Do
• Found Love
• Goin’ To New York
• Baby What You Want Me To Do
• I Ain’t Got You
• Big Boss Man
• Tell The World I Do
• Bright Lights, Big City
• Aw Shucks Hush Your Mouth
• Laughin’ At The Blues
• Shame, Shame, Shame
• Baby What’s Wrong
• I’m Goin’ Upside Your Head