34 - I Could've Had Religion

 

I Could've Had Religion, The Marquee, 1972

Album – Live! In Europe, 1972

See also – Deuce 50^th Anniversary box set, Radio Bremen version.

 

He wanted his next album to be a live album and it made the executives at Polydor somewhat twitchy – a live album wasn’t quite the stuff of hit material. But then again, Rory Gallagher wasn’t exactly bidding pop idol material about to get the right haircut, the right clothes, drape himself in supermodels and mime on Top Of The Pops. He recorded performances of his European tour of February and March 1972, releasing them as Live! In Europe on 14 May that year.

It didn’t get him on Top Of The Pops, and then there’s the tale of Rory’s less than positive response to the exec who presented him with an edited version (not edited  by Rory!) of ‘Going To My Hometown,’ declaring it to be a hit single. But Live! In Europe was his biggest charting album of all three of his solo albums at that point and it is still spoken of in hallowed tones by a host of highly respected successful musicians who regard it as a seminal influence.

Outside of ‘Going To My Hometown’, ‘I Could’ve Had Religion’ is one of the legendary songs off the album. Bob Dylan had planned to include it on one of his albums in the early 1990s and requested a copy of Live! In Europe, which he was sent with a copy of the then most recent album Fresh Evidence. As it was, Dylan never used the song. When asked why when he caught up with Rory at the 1994 Montreux Festival, Dylan replied that he thought it was an old traditional song, not realising that Rory had written it himself.

Rory had found the verses that he expanded into ‘I Could’ve Had Religion’ in a poetry book, and to that end, apparently regarded it as a traditional number. He thought Dylan should have recorded it anyway, but Dylan didn’t want to take the song away from Rory. Being a massive Dylan fan, Rory probably would have been delighted if it had been used by the American legend.

It’s easy to see why Dylan took the song as part of the traditional cannon. It has all the hallmarks of an old blues song: a man done wrong by a woman on the road to some personal hell, who originally was aiming for a life in the church. Interestingly, in the hey day of the country blues, the church regarded the music as being from hell itself. There were many bluesmen caught up in the juxtaposition, with Eddie ‘Son’ House perhaps being a famous case. He was a preacher at one point but fell back into the blues. His singing style was thought to have been influenced by his time as a preacher.

It's also astounding that the song was put together by a 23-year-old. Rory had a very strong faith himself and was a practicing Catholic. It’s mere supposition, but perhaps the themes of  blues allowed him to explore another side of life from a safe vantage point. Unlike many of his peers, Rory hadn’t fallen prey to the sexual mores and drugs that beset the music industry of the late 1960s and early 1970s. He had probably witnessed enough of that chaos to be able to channel it into a classic blues song of his own.

As good as it was, ‘I Could’ve Had Religion’ doesn’t seem to have remained in Rory’s live repertoire beyond the early 1970s. But decades later, in the 1990s, it made a return to Rory’s set and the passing of time only seems to have added to its potency. The guitar sound became even more wretched and angry, with Mark Feltham’s otherworldly harmonica giving it an added dimension. At the 1994 Montreux Festival – that same one where he met Dylan again – Rory also adds to the lyrics something that could only have been gleaned from lived experience. This later version comes across as one that is truly spoken from the heart. Rory did have the odd penchant at times to cook up new lyrics seemingly on the spot as he played live. This is no exception and perhaps for him, an incredibly shy and reserved person offstage, it was a way in which he could safely express what was on his mind.

I Could've Had Religion, Montreux 1994

33 - Whole Lot Of People

 

Album: Deuce (1972)

Rory Gallagher found himself in something of a baptism by fire in 1971. The year started with him recoiling from the bitter split of Taste and dealing with the various bits of red tape arising from that, while trying to launch his solo career. At the same time, he was putting together a new band and, after auditioning Jimi Hendrix’s old rhythm section of Noel Redding and Mitch Mitchell, he opted to go with bassist Gerry McAvoy and drummer Wilgar Campbell, both of the Belfast group Deep Joy, who split not long after Taste broke up.

With his eponymous debut album, Rory hadn’t had the chance to take his new band out on the road. This was a different kettle of fish when it came to the follow-up, Deuce. By this point, the group had several gigs under their belt. They were even touring when Deuce was being recorded, coming to the Tangerine Studios after shows, with an aim of capturing the fire of the Rory Gallagher live performance. Deuce not only captured this energy, but it also captured the fact that Rory had regained his confidence after the experience of the chaotic Taste split. In essence, he perhaps regained faith in his ability as a musician. Deuce, released on 28 November 1971, is one of his most highly regarded albums, and seen as a good entry point for those who are new to his work.

It was the first time Rory worked with engineer Robin Sylvester, who was the in-house engineer at Tangerine Studios. He had started as a musician during the 1960s, becoming an engineer in 1969 and was one of the assistants at Abbey Road when The Beatles recorded the Abbey Road album. Robin took up bass after being inspired to do so by Paul McCartney. Rory found him an excellent person to work with, and Robin would subsequently work on Live In Europe, Irish Tour and Against The Grain. The relationship with Rory would continue when Robin’s band supported Rory on tour. Shortly before the time of writing, it was sadly announced that Robin had passed away. He appears to have had that rare quality – someone Rory trusted to get the sound he wanted without too much supervision!

One of the aspects of Deuce most commented on is the strength of Rory’s slide guitar. A notable track is ‘Whole Lot Of People'. It’s a fiery song. The recent 50th anniversary release of Deuce offers a great insight into how it was built up. Hearing it on acoustic in an alternate take 1, you would think it might be vastly different to the final electric version on the album. However, while it does have a classic folky feel, thanks to the acoustic, it still retains its fire and is instantly recognisable. It has a nice solo that is a pleasant addition to the endless list of epic Rory Gallagher moments. This version would have equally held its own as a definitive version on the album. The other versions offered on the Deluxe 50th anniversary release are also acoustic, with yet more gorgeous soloing. Is it possible that Rory originally envisioned it as an acoustic track before going electric?

With all that said, the electric version that we are more familiar with fits perfectly with the lyrics. Rory said in one interview he didn’t see the point in him writing a political song, though he acknowledged it was something other musicians did. Of course, being Irish and the Troubles being at their height, it was a topic Rory was asked about at times. He was very well versed on the politics, though it and his music were kept apart. One thing Rory does remain famous for is the fact that he was one of the few artists who would play in Belfast in the early 1970s. His shows at the Ulster Hall in Belfast are the stuff of legend – and a statue in his honour is planned to be erected there, though it has been delayed by the Covid-19 pandemic. However, with ‘Whole Lot Of People,’ Dónal Gallagher notes on the official Rory website:

“The sharpness of this playing masks the lyrics of the politics of the then emerging and troubled ‘new‘ Ireland.”

Of course, fans can and will attach their own meaning to a song that is utterly at variance with what the composer originally intended. Music is, at the end of the day, an immensely subjective experience, and the lyrics of ‘Whole Lot Of People’ are powerful:

A whole lot of people talking, trying to make sense

Seems everybody's living on a barbed wire fence

Whole lotta people too proud to call

'Cause it won't get no help at all

Everybody's waiting for the good news day

But it seems so far away

Wonder if it's ever gonna come

'Cause the way it's been the restless one

With Rory, his songs are also seen as an insight into his deeper feelings, that he was reluctant to air by talking about them. Dónal, however, does offer a valuable take as one of the people closest to Rory.

RIP Robin Sylvester, 1950 - 2022

Find out more about Rory playing Belfast during the Troubles click here. 

32 - Special - Deuce 50th Anniversary Edition.

Another Rory milestone is upon us – the 50th anniversary of his second solo album, Deuce, and Daniel Gallagher has worked his magic in putting together another anniversary package.

Like the last 50th anniversary release, that of Rory’s eponymously titled debut, the Deuce 50th anniversary release comes in a deluxe edition in both vinyl and CD, which also includes a 60-page book packed with photos and behind the scenes tales. There is also a separate vinyl release (emerald green no less!) of live BBC performances. And finally, a more condensed set on vinyl and CD, which, as one fan put it on Facebook, is great for those simply after the music.

Deuce has endured as one of Rory’s most popular solo albums. He seems to have suddenly exploded in terms of his capabilities. In the booklet for the anniversary release, his brother Dónal states that, following the messy split of Taste, and having gone straight into the studio with a new band in the form of Gerry McAvoy on bass and Wilgar Campbell on drums, by the time work on Deuce started, Rory now had had the time to play live, and get his confidence back. Part of what Rory wished to achieve on this second album was to capture the energy of his live shows.

At the time, he was still touring in support of his first album. After shows, he took the band back to the studio and they worked late in the night. The studio to which they repaired was the Tangerine Studios in Dalston, London, which had been built in the 1960s by producer Joe Meek. The studio came with engineer Roy Sylvester, who was to work with Rory on subsequent albums. Sharing the building with the studio was a bingo hall. There were few issues in the initial recording sessions owing to them happening late at night, but it was a different story when it came to mixing, mastering, and adding the finishing touches to Deuce. Sessions then had to take place in regular daytime hours, when of course, there was a bingo session on the go next door, and the wall between bingo hall and studio lacked substantially in the soundproofing department.

On some of the album, famously, the calls of the hall were picked up on the recording – and can be heard if you listen carefully. However, it appears that it was Rory himself who caused more issues. The famously mild-mannered guitarist, according to the booklet in the anniversary release, terrified the elderly bingo fans with his guitar, leaving his wee brother to placate the owners of the bingo hall. It’s not the first time Rory’s guitar playing had terrified the unsuspecting according to legend. Growing up in Cork, he and his family lived above the small bar owned by his grandmother, and he would apparently put the wind up those trying to enjoy a quiet pint with the noise that came from his amplifier when he plugged in his electric guitar!

The sheer volume he was capable of is apparent in the new 50th anniversary release. His guitar (presumably the Strat!) sits front and centre of the recordings. Rory’s ability as a slide guitarist really comes to the fore on Deuce – many have mentioned how astounding he is on ‘Crest Of A Wave.’ The new set also gives a fantastic insight into how he and the band built up the songs. We range from acoustic versions of songs we are more familiar with as electric, there is the behind-the-scenes studio banter as they get things going – as well as the odd happy cry of 'HOUSE’ coming from the bingo hall, perhaps followed by a frustrated expletive from Gerry.

There are several things in here that will please fans for many reasons. We could be here all day listing them, but really, everyone will have their own take. For me, two particular stand outs are the home demos and the Radio Bremen recordings. The home demos feel like you are getting a rare insight into a very private man. Here is Rory by himself getting his new songs down on tape, and frankly, it is gold for fans. The one that particularly strikes me is the demo of ‘Maybe I Will’ – because it is in stark contrast to how we are used to him playing, which is usually loud! This time he is quiet, and you really have to listen. It’s a very intimate recording.

The Radio Bremen tracks are nothing short of amazing. I directed a friend to one, and he was knocked out by the bass playing, which is heavy kudos to the then 19-year-old Gerry, who at that point had received some po-faced comments in the music press from some reviewers that he wasn’t up to much as a bassist. He was quite the opposite – to be able to keep up with Rory, you wouldn’t have gotten very far otherwise.

It also seems that these 50th anniversary releases are casting a very welcome spotlight onto Wilgar Campbell. It feels like, because he left fairly early on in Rory’s career, he perhaps has been somewhat neglected when it comes to appreciation of Rory’s drummers. But the focus on Rory’s early solo albums is showing that Wilgar was an immensely talented and versatile drummer, who already had a proven track record.

For those on streaming, the full four disc set of the deluxe edition of the Deuce 50th anniversary is available on Spotify.

31 - Going To My Hometown

Album: Live In Europe (1972)

See also: Irish Tour ’74 (1974), Wheels Within Wheels (2003), Irish Tour ’74 40th anniversary (2014), Check Shirt Wizard (2020)

Rory Gallagher’s brother Dónal once told the story of what happened when the record company took it upon themselves to do a cut of ‘Going To My Hometown’ from the Live In Europe album without letting Rory know so they could show him how the song could work as a single. The effect on the famously quiet natured Rory was incendiary: as Dónal described it, Rory went through the roof, and apparently took the label executive with him!

It has often been discussed how releasing singles could have boosted Rory’s career, got him regular radio play and regular chart appearances. There is probably merit to that argument, but on the other hand, would we have the Rory Gallagher as many of us know and love today? Perhaps not. Any compromises could have completely shifted the game, and it’s an oft mentioned warning what standing on a tiny insect could do to history should someone go time travelling. Rory was very much anti-single for many reasons.

In the Irish Tour film, he says, “I don’t regard myself as a Top 20 musician at all, even though I could write a Top 20 song, but I wouldn’t. I don’t think that’s important, you know. It’s a pity, I think a lot of people might see me and see me on the television, on the screen, and without listening, they turn it off and might think ‘He’s a Top Of The Pops man’, they wouldn’t…Sometimes appearances and songs are not what they seem to be. I just want to be able to continue playing. Want to be able to buy a bar of chocolate in a shop if I want to or go into a bar and have a pint without being besieged all the time. Just want to have an ordinary kind of walking down the streets without being recognised sort of life. Of course, if someone comes over and says, ‘How’re you doing, Rory?’ that’s fine. But I don’t want to get into the Rolls Royce, the mansion and the cloak and dagger style of living.”

In other words, perhaps releasing singles as he saw it opened him up to the kind of major rock star life that was not for him. There is a sense in listening to this and seeing him discuss the matter in other interviews that he felt it would take him away from who he really was, and ultimately, how he wanted his music to be. Rory was regarded as a tad stubborn by many for this, who argued he could have taken his career in so many different ways, but he is also respected for sticking to his guns in an industry that takes the talent, strips away the essence and presents something instantly marketable. And of course, disposable and of the moment. Not something you could say about Rory Gallagher, who has something of the timeless about him.

Of course, “Going To My Hometown” is not just another, could have been single. It’s one of the most popular songs in Rory’s canon. It was never recorded in a studio, but first made its appearance on 1972’s Live In Europe album, released on 14 May 1972. Starting off with Rory accompanying himself on mandolin, it literally brought the house down, as the song grew in crescendo with the rest of the band gradually joining in, with an elated crowd stomping and clapping along in unison. It was also a song mooted as a duet with Lonnie Donegan, Rory’s childhood hero, though as things worked out, they never managed to record it in the studio for any of Donegan’s albums, but there is a live version of the two duetting on the song on Rory’s posthumous 2003 Wheels Within Wheels album.

'Going To My Hometown’ is a classic folky number, the main theme of which is the story of a young guy who has left home to work in a factory, mostly likely a Ford plant. But it doesn’t quite have a happy ending for him, despite the fact there is now a girlfriend and love in his life. This is one homesick lad who just wants to get back to the home turf. And he may or may not get back to the girl!

The day I left,

You know the rain was pouring down.

The day I left,

You know the rain was pouring down.

I'm going home again baby,

I believe the sun's gonna come on out.

Let's go home, boy, let's go home.

Yes I'm going to my hometown,

You know baby I gotta go.

Going to my hometown,

You know I just have to go.

I really love you, woman,

I'll see you in a year, maybe no, maybe yes.

Played live, the song quickly turned into a call and response, with Rory asking the audience “Do you wanna go!” and getting an enthusiastic “Yes!” back – clearly a crowd who would go anywhere with him!

30 - The Mississippi Sheiks

 

July 1978 saw Rory Gallagher in the studios with Gerry McAvoy and new drummer Ted McKenna working on the Photo Finish album, so-called because of a tight deadline brought about by Rory scrapping previous work recorded in San Francisco and then recovery from a broken thumb. The album was handed in just in the nick of time!

The album, as mentioned previously in this blog, was recorded at Dieter Dierks’ studio just outside Cologne and provided a congenial atmosphere to work in. Ted McKenna said, “It took us two weeks to do the backing tracks. I remember doing a lot of takes, and Rory would take his time choosing the one he thought had the magic. It was a great studio, and an enjoyable experience altogether.”

A new line up seems to have given Rory a boost. Photo Finish, released on 1 October 1978 (certainly giving proof to the pudding that it indeed just made the deadline!), is a joy to listen to and one of my personal favourites. Rory was asked in one interview promoting the album if he had been getting singing lessons, much to his surprise. But it is a fair question. His vocals on this are especially strong.

Photo Finish takes the listener on many journeys, from the murky world of ‘Shadow Play,’ the heartbreak of ‘Fuel To The Fire’ to a band causing unrest in a quiet, small town, presumably somewhere in the boonies, by playing a show there in ‘Brute, Force and Ignorance’. Rory even includes a touch of time-travel in ‘The Mississippi Sheiks,’ which is without a doubt, the song of a blues devotee. The song beautifully captures the notion of slipping back in time to the early twentieth century when most of his blues heroes were working, many earning a few dollars playing in the street, as well as in juke joints and fish fry parties.

It was a history that Rory certainly absorbed in learning as much as he could about the blues. For anyone with an interest in the blues, he is certainly a good teacher. Interviews have him answering questions about his influences, and the answers he gave ranged along Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, Howlin’ Wolf and Skip James. He covered songs by Bukka White, Blind Boy Fuller, Son House, and Lead Belly, making his own mark on them. In a less serious interview, he was asked who his ideal date was – Memphis Minnie! It is probably not much surprise he wrote a song like ‘The Mississippi Sheiks.’ You could certainly go no wrong by metaphorically accepting his invitation to “… come along with me, back to the southern streets.”

The namesakes of the song itself comprises of a guitar and fiddle country blues band from Mississippi, popular during the 1930s. The core of the group comprised of the Chatmon family, Armenter Chatmon, Lonnie Chatmon, and Sam Chatmon, as well as Walter Vinson, and Papa Charlie McCoy. The Mississippi Sheiks’ most famous song is ‘Sitting On Top Of The World’ from 1930, which was covered by many artists, including a Rory favourite, Bob Dylan. The group made their final recording in 1935. Armenter was better known as Bo Carter, He was mostly a part-time member, with a successful solo career outside the group, eventually leaving the band altogether. He is particularly known for sexually suggestive songs, one of which was also covered by Rory, ‘All Around Man,’ which is #10 in this blog. It’s thought that Carter was the half-brother of the legendary Charley Patton, a strong influence on Howlin’ Wolf, but as with most things in blues history, that’s not a definite!

Peg Leg Howell is the other name Rory sees in his blues-tinged fantasy. Hailing from Eatonton, Georgia, Howell picked up guitar aged twenty-one and often played in the streets of Atlanta, with a side line in bootlegging. He recorded for Columbia, but his career faded after the mid-1930s, with very few performances. He had a leg amputated due to complications from diabetes in the 1950s and was ‘rediscovered’ by George Mitchell and Roger Brown in 1963, during the blues revival of the late 1950s and early 1960s, a time when the young Rory was also taking in a lot of the blues and began playing guitar. It is an interesting question of how much he may have picked up from the blues revival, which saw many blues musicians play in the UK and Europe, where interest in the blues was strong. This is the same period that brought Son House and Skip James back to the fore. Rory could not have been doing anything but pay attention, even if he were too young at the age of twelve to make it to any of the shows in Europe and the UK mainland. Peg Leg Howell did make some final recordings in this period, but being born in 1888, he was an old man and passed away in 1966.

It's amazing what Rory hints at in what is lyrically a very short song – more of a vignette than a full tale. But it’s enough to provide a powerful glimpse into the world of the blues back in the day. During an interview later in his life, it was suggested to Rory he could easily teach a blues course at a university. He no doubt would have been particularly good at it. His short comments on the topic to journalists and other interviewers are lessons in themselves.

#29 - Loanshark Blues

 Album: Defender (1987)

Following 1982’s Jinx album, it would be five years before Rory Gallagher released another studio album, leading to some believing he had apparently vanished into the ether.

“I was quite busy, I wasn’t back in Ireland for a long time. We were playing a lot on the Continent, we were in America for a couple of trips. We also played behind the Iron Curtain. So it was more active than people would know, but unfortunately if you’re not playing in this part of the world, people think you’ve faded away.” Rory on RTÉ’s Borderline, 1 March, 1988.

Defender was released on 1 July 1987. It was the first album he released on his own independent label, Capo Records, having parted company with Chrysalis following Jinx. In many ways, it’s one of his heavier albums, ranging from rock to veritable blues classics. Recorded across a number of London Studios, including The Point, Olympic Studios, West 3 Studios, Music Works and Redan Studios, personnel included band regulars Gerry McAvoy on bass, Brendan O’Neill on drums and Mark Feltham on harmonica (‘Don’t Start Me Talkin’) , with former keyboardist and pianist Lou Martin making a return to guest on ‘Seven Days’. It was a successful album on the independent charts, with many positive reviews, some even describing it as Rory’s best to date. Discussing Defender on the aforementioned Borderline interview, Rory said:

“We did an album called Torch, it wasn’t satisfactory in the end. And it was like, it was a good thing it turned out that way, because sometimes it’s good to get really disgusted with the stuff you’re doing and give yourself a real ticking off and start again. Costs a fortune, but that’s more or less how we started the album.

“I feel very reasonable about this particular album; it’s nice and to the point and it has a nice mood to it, I think. That’s my own review, anyway.”

In these comments, it seems that, happy as he is about Defender, there comes across a very hefty personal self-criticism. Much has been written, mooted, discussed, and opined about Rory’s health and general state of being at this time. It is true he wasn’t in a happy place at this point, and it was during the Defender sessions, often working late into the night, that Rory said something ominous loomed over him. Many have taken this and his subsequent health issues as an opportunity to write off Rory as a musician and performer (Defender was his second last studio album), and it feels as though this is a sad and unjust line drawn under his talent. Indeed, there are some who won’t listen to Rory’s later work or footage of his live shows because of this. It’s deeply unfair and an injustice to the man. Take the time to sit down, watch and listen. He still had it in him. And if anything, he was maturing to something incredible.

‘Loanshark Blues’, the second track on Defender is a case in point. Rory is very much making his mark as a bluesman. The lyrics begin with a variation of the traditional call and response found in blues songs:

“Give me 'til Monday, that's only a day or two
Give me til Monday, that's only a day or two
I'll pay you back with interest the last thing that I do
I'll pay you back with interest the last thing that I do
Yeah, yeah”

Interspersed between variations of these choruses are verses that tell the tale of a man literally begging for the survival of his family and himself in the most desperate destitution:

“Wife needs shoes, the kids must eat
Feel so cold, I can't feel my feet
Can't get my hands on one thin dime
I'm gonna turn to a life of crime

No work here, so I walk the street
Sign on the door, I feel I'm beat
I know you run Pier 15
You got a grip on all my dreams”

It’s powerful stuff – thematically, the poverty is something featured in several traditional Delta blues. Rory must have had thousands of those songs stored in his inner ear by this point. There is also a hint of the books Rory liked to read, the hard-boiled detective novels, some of which, like the Delta songs, date back to the Great Depression. Both have simmered deep in Rory’s creative well it appears in ‘Loanshark Blues’. It was a song he was very satisfied with, to the extent of describing it as the best he had ever written:

“My favourite track. It’s a rhythmic thing, that I had to keep calm and controlled. There’s a sort of John Lee Hooker feel to it.”

He’s not far wrong in describing it as having a touch of John Lee Hooker. It appears Rory has fully come back into the blues he grew up besotted with and was taking it into a new direction, making it his own. His band by this point had transformed from the blues-rock/heavy rock of the 1970s and early 1980s to something with a heavier electric blues kick. Gerry McAvoy had been with Rory 16 years by time Defender came around and Brendan O’Neill had taken over from Ted McKenna on drums in 1981, becoming Rory’s longest served drummer. Mark Feltham had also become a regular in the line-up, often trading licks with Rory on live shows. It was a formidable unit to say the least!



For more information on Rory during this period, this article is a worthy read. And remember, mental health issues are no one's fault and help is available if needed.

#28 - Bullfrog Blues

 Albums: Live In Europe (1972)

Also: Blues (2019), Check Shirt Wizard (2020)

When Rory Gallagher mooted a live album as his third solo outing, wanting to capture the energy of his live performance, his record label, Polydor, was somewhat hesitant. Nonetheless, in February and March 1972, he recorded shows from his European tour.  With Wilgar Campbell on drums and Gerry McAvoy on bass, the album was released on 14 May that year. It hit the top ten of the UK album charts and became his first gold record.

It also mostly featured songs that hadn’t been on Rory’s previous albums, several of them became firm fixtures of his live show from there on in. ‘Bullfrog Blues’ in particular has gone onto reach legendary status. It perhaps isn’t an exaggeration to suggest that several Rory fans would be delighted with a compilation album solely comprised of his various live versions of that one song.

‘Bullfrog Blues’ first came to the light of day with William Harris, who recorded it back in 1928. Harris was ‘discovered’ by Henry Columbus Speir, a white record store owner in Jackson, Mississippi, who also acted as a talent scout for a number of record labels including Columbia, Victor, Okeh, Paramount, Decca, Vocallion and Gennett. The majority of records he sold from his store were blues and it’s argued that if it wasn’t for Speir, much of the Delta blues would have been missed. Amongst those Speir brought to notice include Son House, Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, Skip James, Bo Carter and the Mississippi Sheiks. As well as being regarded as some of the biggest names in the blues, Rory himself often cited them as favourites, interpreted their work in his own way, and in the case of the Mississippi Sheiks, even wrote a song about them!

Ted Gioia in his book Delta Blues, notes that when researcher Gayle Wardlow played William Harris’ recordings to older Mississippi blues musicians, they all commented that here was an authentic Delta player. Unfortunately, unlike the others picked up by H.C. Speir, William Harris appears to have disappeared down a black hole in history, though it’s thought that he may have been the first bluesman Speir signed. Very little is known about Harris outwith the songs he recorded for Speir in the late 1920s. Searches have been made with little success in the historic records for Harris. The only other information on him is anecdotal: he was said to have toured extensively, playing medicine shows, juke joints, house parties and street corners. He is also described as being religious and avoided drink, and guitarist Hayes McMullen recalls him at a house party in 1927, smartly dressed, cracking jokes and playing guitar whilst dancing with a woman at the same time. Other than that, there is simply nothing.

Nothing apart from ‘Bullfrog Blues’, which went on to be covered eleven times following its first release, including by Rory. Other notable versions include a late 1965 cover by John Hammond, which sounds close to the original and Canned Heat’s 1967 version, which, though called ‘Bullfrog Blues’, has developed with new lyrics. With old blues numbers, this is quite common. Certainly Rory took it and made it his own. There may be something of a personal bias here, but his version certainly blows Canned Heat out the house in terms of sheer raw energy. As Jamel_AKA_Jamal, a YouTuber who posts reaction videos to music requests, says in his recent video reaction to the 1976 Old Grey Whistle Test Rory Gallagher Special version of ‘Bullfrog Blues’, this is a band going crazy on stage.

If anything, it seems like Rory and his bandmates (in any of the line-ups of The Rory Gallagher Band) have a distinct case of the ‘Bullfrog Blues’ as described in the lyrics Rory puts to the song. A bizarre affliction that no medical intervention can cure but can only be dealt with by getting up and playing music. Rory varied the lyrics from performance to performance, but the gist is just the same. Got yourself in an uncomfortable state? Let the music take it out. The song itself seems to be the cure, which is probably handy as it’s a condition the entire family can have – “My mother got them, my father got them, my sister got them” – even Grandma gets affected!

For Rory, the main crux of the song appears to be the act of playing. He spends less time singing than he does enthusiastically letting rip on guitar, and the energy is passed around the band, each taking a solo and becoming the centre of attention, before everyone joins back in and continues to let rip even more. All the while, the audience is a bouncing, boogeying froth, getting more worked up as Rory gets worked up – rather famously at the Chorus Pour Paris 1980 show. ‘Bullfrog Blues’ closes the program and the audience leap up on stage, dancing around the band, with Rory eventually climbing on top of the amplifiers for a more scenic view!