TAB BENOIT

Medicine

Telarc

By Liz Mandeville

It’s been said that blues music is the healer of souls, the tonic to mend a broken heart and a busted wallet. For over a century it’s been sonic medicine for the downtrodden, at best an opiate for the ears, at least a measure of solace in this veil of tears. For those looking for that kind of soul fixing, Cajun musician and environmental activist, Tab Benoit, offers Medicine. His new Telarc CD release features 11 tracks that take us on a therapeutic ride through Louisiana’s swamp country, complete with slide guitars, fiddles and even a song sung in French Creole.

On Medicine, Tab has joined forces with his friend songwriter/slide guitarist Anders Osborne. To hear Tab tell it, “When he and I went out on the bayou, we came back with seven songs!” Osborne, who’s been a staple on Benoit’s wildly successful Voice of the Wetlands Festival and Revue, not only collaborated on the songwriting, he also plays slide and rhythm guitars and is co-producer on this CD that is dripping with soul like Southern trees drip Spanish Moss.

The opening title track sets the mood with its dark grinding guitars and slow drag heart beat. When Tab sings “So good when the medicine hits my veins, just one time and I ain’t never been the same…” and “one more shot could do me in, bring me my medicine…”  is it a veiled reference to Osborne’s romance with addictive substances that earned him a stint in rehab before this disc could be made?

One of the things I appreciate most about Tab Benoit is his unabashed love of ‘60s era Memphis soul music, a passion I share. The second track, “Sunrise,” a heat-felt, Stax-esque ballad, has such a classic pedigree, both in its structure and execution, that I could easily imagine Otis Redding singing the song. Benoit mines these wonderfully ripe fields of classic American music and creates modern songs that do the memory of Memphis’ hey-day proud without sounding dated or cheesy. Tab sings to the satellite passing overhead in the night sky, begging it to convey his message of longing to his far-away lover. Evoking the long, night drives and lonely life of the professional musician is one of Tab’s strong suits. Those who’ve enjoyed his live performances are familiar with his “When a Cajun Man Gets the Blues.”  “Sunrise” fits into that master file of great picture painting songs that make Tab a perennial favorite with fans.

Two later tracks on Medicine, “Nothing Takes the Place of You” (McCall/Robinson), and “Next to Me” (Malone/Magnie) are also lovely, R&B ballads that allow Tab to both channel his Otis Redding singing chops and ably demonstrate his guitar prowess. Tab Benoit is not one of those shredding, speed demon guitarists that are so in vogue, rather his playing is emotional, soulful and muscular. He’s got great phrasing, pleasantly dirty tone and he understands the importance and nuance of a good rhythm part. Having heard his recordings and seen his live shows, I can honestly say I was completely entertained and didn’t miss the loud, superfast showboats one has come to associate with modern blues.

Tab’s tireless conservation efforts on behalf of his native Cajun country have earned him national recognition among environmentalists. Medicine’s third offering, “A Whole Lotta Soul,” returns us to the slow drag groove of the first track. Its five-and-a-half minutes are spent complaining about how the land is treated. “Maybe we should move the mountains, maybe we should drain the sea…” he sings sarcastically, ending with the question: “How will you feel when it’s your back yard?” This is the attitude of Tab’s Voice of the Wetlands project, an outgrowth of his VOW festival held yearly in his hometown of Houma, LA to give voice to the region’s musicians and raise awareness of the plight of Louisiana’s disappearing and distressed wetlands.

“Come and Get It,” an infectious, rocking dance tune, is quickly followed by “Broke and Lonely,” a classic blues idea, (written by Johnny Otis and Johnny “Guitar’ Watson about a guy who had all the women until he lost all his money) now set to a New Orleans, second line drum beat. I hear that Memphis influence with a dollop of funk, casting “Broke and Lonely” as a satisfying re-invention of Chicago blues that could only have been crafted south of the Mason-Dixon line.

Another song of lost love, “Long Lonely Bayou” is sung in the quavering baritone that makes his female fans swoon. It’s produced with eerie quietude and aching lone notes on an acoustic guitar picked along with the mournful sigh of Michael Doucet’s fiddle that moves, like a ghost, over the same bare terrain in this haunting song of regret.

Bringing Brady Blades’ brilliant second line drumming and Corey Duplechin’s measured bass lines back into play with Ivan Neville’s layer of B-3, the hook-y, “In It To Win It,” features a tasty, understated guitar solo and more commentary about growing up on the bayou.

Dance floor alert! Western Swing has never been more aptly re-invented than on Augie Meyer’s song, “Can’t You See.” A bouncy little number, it showcases Michael Doucet’s playfully expressive fiddle and singing as he croons the third verse in Bayou French and saws out a solo guaranteed to get your gumbo boiling.

The final track, “Mudboat Melissa,” once again features Brady Blades’ second line feel, Michael Doucet’s artful fiddling and a finely meshed harmony on the hook, “Mud, mud, mud, mud, mud, Melissa” that will have you ear-worming this song forever after.

Those of us that miss album covers for their art, liner notes and clues as to the artists’ intentions will appreciate that in addition to the great music on this imminently playable disc, there’s also an insert book that’s filled with intimate session photos, lyrics and a note from Tab. Look closely at the back cover, not just for the production credits but for medicine bottle directions and caution label, a little tongue-in-cheek joke for folks who love detail.

Well-crafted songs, spicy touches of country, tasteful guitars blended with thick, juicy layers of Hammond B-3 set on a roux of unhurried, boat rockin’ rhythm and soulful interpretations of blues gone Cajun, yield a steaming pot of gris-gris that begs to be played again and again. I give it two thumbs up with a dash of hot sauce and a whiff of Old Spice.

About the Author: Chicago blues artist Liz Mandeville, a true renaissance woman, is a sultry singer, award-winning songwriter, guitarist, journalist, painter, educator and all around bon vivant. She has performed all over the world and has four CDs on the Earwig Music label to her credit.

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