Just recently while digging through my blues collection, I found an album I hadn’t listened to in quite some time, so I pulled the protective cover off of it, cleaned it, and placed it on the turntable.  And for the next 40 or 45 minutes, whatever the time period was, I was captivated by the blues across the ten songs on Chicago Blues by Johnny Young and Big Walter.  Surely, a reasonable argument can be made that this 1968 release is one of the finest modern blues albums available on the Arhoolie Records label.  But I’ll take it a step further and say that it is also certainly one of the best modern blues albums ever.  Period.

Here, I’m not aiming to profile renowned Walter Horton (aka Big Walter, Mumbles, Shakey, etc.), though his contributions to the Arhoolie Records release I was enjoying only heightened my belief that Horton was a true master on tone.  His ability to formulate countless tapestries of blues genius from the humble harmonica continually, and his ranking in the blues harmonica hierarchy cannot be high enough for my money.

No, while relishing in the blues splendor of the aforementioned album, I was also struck hard by the virtuosity of Johnny Young, and I began to contemplate whether his pace on the modern blues pecking order has fully captured his broad skill set.  I just don’t think Young’s proficiencies, vocal, on guitar, and certainly on mandolin have been given their proper due, so that’s why I find him greatly in my mind this week.  You see, unlike initial blues mandolin performers such as Carl Martin, the McCoy Brothers (Joe and Charlie), and even Yank Rachell, the man who truly found widespread success using the mandolin in the modern blues band format was Young.

On the first day of January, 1918, Johnny Young was born in Vicksburg, Mississippi, a city in Warren County, an area in the far western side of the state about one-third of the way from the southern boundary of the state.  Details, as per usual for obscure blues artist, regarding Young’s early formative years are lean, but it is known that while he was still a boy his family moved to Rolling Fork, Mississippi, located roughly 45 due north of Vicksburg.  It doesn’t really need explaining that during this period in this locale that music was all around the youthful Young, and his earliest exposure to music seems to be from hearing the powerful and quite popular guitar and fiddle (violin) band, The Mississippi Shieks, a versatile group that was highly proficient in playing many popular musical styles around in the early 20^th century.  It was this appreciation for The Mississippi Sheiks that forged a lifelong deep bond for Young to the string band music the group presented, as it was an art form that easily co-existed with the blues in the Delta region of Young’s early years.

Intrigued, Young sought the assistance of a guitar-playing uncle for lessons.  Young was falling headfirst into the world of music, and in addition to his guitar work, he made efforts to develop his singing voice, and also made the decision to learn the rudiments of the mandolin.  This as a wise choice, as it gave Young flexibility when his skills were sufficiently developed as he began to play the usual house parties, picnics, frolics, and in the juke joints.  Performing solo or backing another artist, Young’s adaptability stood out.

1940 proved to be a significant year for Young.  He made the decision to leave the South and travel north to Chicago to pursue his musical aspirations, just as his cousin Johnny Williams had done.  Once in Chicago, Young, like most blues figures arriving on the city’s active blues scene, discovered that the Maxwell Street open-air market was the place to be for a blues artist to busk for tips from appreciative listeners.  As he found, it was an active and competitive setting, with everyone from blues harmonica giant Little Walter, to Chicago blues titan Muddy Waters, and across a very broad spectrum of blues talent, and he had to work hard to get himself noticed.  He performed there with his cousin Johnny Williams, and also began to make his way into the equally competitive blues club landscape.

When 1947 rolled around, Young got what could be thought of as his first big break.  For the Ora Nelle label he recorded “Money Taking Woman,” providing vocals and mandolin with guitar accompaniment by Johnny Williams.  It was a raucous, high-spirited string-band-esque outing, full of high energy and sass.  The flip side was “Worried Man Blues” with Williams taking the vocal and guitar duties while Young provides mandolin efforts and vocal encouragement. 

It was only one short year later when Young returned to the recording studio for work to be issued on the Old Swing-Master label.  He laid-down “My Baby Walked Out On Me” and “Let Me Ride Your Mule” while deploying his considerable vocal and mandolin skills with the assistance again of Johnny Williams offering guitar support, plus the superb harmonica work of post-war blues harmonica giant Snooky Pryor.  On the first title, there was less of a string-band framing, with the result being more in the traditional Chicago blues band formatting.  There seemed to be a splash of string-band influence in the second title, but the Chicago blues band sound was more prevalent.  On both of these tunes, Pryor’s harmonica comes to the fore while Williams’ guitar and Young’s mandolin sonically burst forward.  It is interesting to note that this release was the first to see the moniker of “Man” used to denote Young as the artist, with the songs released under the name “Man Young.”

Young continued to perform solo, as a bandleader, and behind other blues artists, but as the later 1950s segued into the 1960s, the modern Chicago Black blues audience did not embrace the mandolin as a being up-to-date, so Young’s use of the instrument, and the demand for it, declined.  In fact, for a bit in the late 1950s, Young put his music career aside.  However, when younger Whites, both abroad and domestically, enthusiastically re-discovered and embraced the blues, including Young’s work, suddenly this revival audience wanted, no, demanded, Young to come back into the limelight.  And why coming back into the blues world ultimately proved successful for Young was his prior work within a traditional Chicago blues band setting.  Where a blues mandolin artist like the incomparable Yank Rachell retained that older-fashioned pre-war sound and feel of the string-bands, Young’s mandolin use was firmly planted in the modern vein; he was entirely contemporary, resolutely entrenched in the post-war blues vernacular.  Thus, Young had the notice and relationships with other modern-day Chicago blues artists such as Chess Records powerhouses like Muddy Waters and Sonny Boy Williamson II, the previously mentioned Big Walter Horton, and blues piano great Otis Spann.  His work appealed to the blues major players.

So, 1963 was the year when Young again emerged upon the Chicago blues scene, and his in-demand status, both for “live” work and studio efforts were many.  Throughout the remainder of the 1960s into the 1970s, Young recorded both as the featured artist and as a sideman on numerous collections for various labels including Vanguard, Testament Records, Bluesway, Blues On Blues, Arhoolie Records, and Blue Horizon.  There were also 45rpm singles released on the USA Records and Arhoolie Records labels in 1964 and 1966, respectively.

Research has noted that Young always felt that he was destined to be a musician, and his later period resurgence afforded him some validation of that belief.  However, just as things were churning forward, Young succumbed to the effects of a heart attack in 1974.

The appeals of Young are many, and at least for this writer, the following make his brand of blues so infectious.  His vocals were assured and confident, and he projected a poise and coolness that was hard to overlook.  Also, his early string-band influences were evident throughout his career, and while they were never in one’s face, Young’s ability to completely adapt the mandolin into the modern Chicago blues band structure provided a very unique sound that it seems like the blues of the period needed; it was a welcome difference.  His songwriting was first-rate, and he surrounded himself with top-tier blues talent when he recorded, plus, top-tier talent sought him out as a valued accompanist.

Today, the practitioners of blues mandolin are thin ranks, though this writer is encouraged by the work of Gerry Hundt, a relatively young man on the blues scene.

If you’ve not considered the work of Johnny Young before, any of his Arhoolie Records output is certainly worth your time, as are his contributions to the famed Chicago/The Blues/Today! Vanguard series.  And his Testament Records yield is quite strong.  You must give Johnny Young’s blues a listen.  I am totally confident that you will find much to relish.