Carey Bell – Heartaches And Pain – Delmark DD-666 

Originally recorded in 1977 as part of what was supposed to be a 10-album series highlighting Chicago blues, this collection finally saw the light of day in 1994 when Chicago’s eminent Delmark Records acquired the entirety of the series, one that was planned to be released on Miami’s T.K. Records, and instead being licensed to the U.K.’s Red Lightnin’ label.   Without getting too deep into the weeds, the series’ producer, Ralph Bass, is said to have not allowed this collection, and one by Chicago bluesman, Lonnie Brooks, to come under Red Lightnin’s control; he considered them the pinnacle works of the 10 sessions compiled.

Bass’ vision for this Carey Bell outing included two stipulations.  First, the collection would be limited to eight songs in total.  Second, Bass wanted Bell to replicate a “live” performance atmosphere.  Bass wanted to avoid, if possible, any second takes or overdubs.  And what shook-out is sheer modern blues mastery.

Bell had recorded his first album for Delmark under his own name in 1969 with Carey Bell’s Blues Harp, a sterling outing, and in 1972 recorded a modern classic for Alligator Records, Big Walter Horton With Carey Bell.  1973 saw the release of Last Night, a recording for the Bluesway label. 

At the time Bell went into the studio for the recording of Heartaches And Pain, he was performing as one of the featured blues artists showcased by Bob Riedy, a blues pianist and promoter-of-sorts; he was instrumental in bringing the blues onto the scene on Chicago’s north side.  At the time, Riedy was working with other blues artists in a similar capacity, including Richard “Hub Cap” Robinson, Jimmy Rogers, Johnny Littlejohn, Magic Slim, and Johnny Young, among others. 

Assembled for this outing was an unrivaled collection of a supporting cast.  Lurrie Bell, Carey’s broadly-talented son, makes his first recorded appearance here on guitar, Alabama Jr. Pettis, an integral member of Magic Slim’s group, The Teardrops, is along on rhythm guitar, Bob Riedy lends his skillful piano services, Chicago’s supreme bassist, Aron Burton, plies his fine bottom-end competencies, while famed Chicago drummer, he of The Howlin’ Wolf Band fame, Sam Lay, provides rock-solid percussion duties. 

Some blues artists are instantly recognizable without opening their mouths; they’re identifiable by some unique aspect of their sound, whether it’s by virtue of their guitar, piano, bass, drum, or harmonica character.  Bell was one of those blues artists.  That singular ringing, percussive, trilling, full-throated at times, yet making use of higher registers in animated squalls, all melds together for Bell into a methodology and resonance that is identifiable from the get-go.  Any blues fan who has done their homework and carefully considered the vast breadth of blues harmonica players fully understands.

Extraordinarily adept on both diatonic and chromatic blues harmonica, Bell successfully dispenses his blues visions across the landscape of this work.  On the diatonic harmonica, Bell provides solos that melodically swing, using to the best effect the full sonic range of the harmonica, often within the same solo and song.  When Bell transitions to the use of the chromatic harmonica, he is able to set both dark, somber blues moods, and also use the instrument to glide jubilantly with fuller, deeper amassed tonal qualities.  And, of course, Bell’s signature song-ending primal swoop is on display here.

One area where Bell perhaps has not gotten his rightful due is for his singing.  His is a world-weary manner, seemingly expressing that he has truly lived his blues, the ones he is singing about.  However, Bell is totally skilled in celebrating a given life scenario via his vocals.  He, again, should be recognized more fully for his vocal strengths.

Lurrie Bell ideally complements his father’s blues here, and is tasteful, yet just exploratory enough in his guitar solos, to harken as to what future blues guitar successes he would achieve.  His pedigree provided him the knowhow to supremely back his father’s blues, and he never over-steps.  Rather, his work appears a seamless musical component within his father’s compositions.  One gets the sense that it was two blues minds sharing the same conceptualizations amongst these tunes.

As would be expected from a journeyman bluesman, Pettis’ work provides a firm rhythmic guitar foundation, while Burton’s bass work churns and lays compact the required low-end to keep the proceedings grounded.  Riedy, as is the case with all the Chicago bluesmen he worked with, supports with piano embellishments that mix and stir in the background, ideally lending an auditory layer to Bell’s blues.  Finally, Lay anchors the whole of the outing with his storied blues percussion skill set.

In my hometown, back in 1999, at the Midway Tavern & Dancehall, the South Bend Blues Society honored Bell for his contributions to the blues.  A large crowd came-out to attend the ceremony and performance, and it was a night that still lingers in the minds of many here.  Bell brought his wife, Gladys, with him, and the whole of the evening was a rousing celebration of his association with the blues.  I had seen Bell many times in-performance, but Bell was euphoric and genuinely and humbly honored by the tributes being offered him; I had never seen him so happy.  He was alive with a grin that could fill a room (and it did that evening), and his performance was testament to his sincere gratefulness for his career’s acknowledgments. 

This is a collection that perhaps some would not identify as essential.  However, as bluesmen like Big Walter Horton and Junior Wells left us, Carey Bell carried the blues harmonica torch with great success in their wakes.  Universally, Bell rose to distinguished blues prominence, and forwarded the blues harmonica in the modern era so as to inspire a new generation.  For that result, this recording is considered essential.  Pick this one up, and your blues collection immediately has a grander level of consequence.