Wilbert Harrison - Kansas City: The Best Of Wilbert Harrison
WILBERT HARRISON LONG LINER NOTES
It’s extremely unlikely that any other 1950s R&B artist blended quite as many disparate idiomatic influences into an instantly identifiable whole as Wilbert Harrison.
Stereotyped as a one-hit wonder thanks to his 1959 across-the-board chart-topping rendition of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller’s “Kansas City” (he actually scored two if you count his brotherhood ode “Let’s Work Together” a full decade later), the Charlotte, North Carolina native melded blues, R&B, country, calypso, and a weird off-kilter rhythmic sense that was entirely his own to cook up a savory musical stew that was altogether unique.
Wilbert’s skill on a variety of instruments was a key factor in his uncommon versatility. He played rolling piano on “Kansas City” and several of his followups for Bobby Robinson’s Harlem-based Fury Records, but he was just as likely to utilize a guitar/harmonica combination that sometimes expanded into a one-man-band setup with the addition of hi-hat. Harrison wasn’t afraid to incorporate instrumentation on his recordings that registered well outside the R&B mainstream. The end result still sounded like nobody but Wilbert as he made a slew of platters over the course of a recording career that spanned more than two decades.
Born January 6, 1929, Harrison was fascinated by his family’s player piano when he was little, and he absorbed gospel and country music after that. Following a stint in the U.S. Navy, Wilbert landed in Miami in 1950 and encountered the spicy strains of calypso, which he brought back to Charlotte. He taught himself how to play guitar there and formed his own band, the Calypso Boys. Producer Henry Stone, then in the early years of his ascension to king-of-the-hill record distributor and producer status in Miami, signed Wilbert to a contract in 1953 (Harrison had been wowing local audiences there with his version of Frankie Laine’s “Mule Train”).
Harrison debuted that year on Stone’s Rockin’ logo with “This Woman Of Mine,” which more than hinted at his eventual rendezvous with the top of the hit parade as it unashamedly borrowed the melody and mid-tempo swagger of “K.C. Loving,” the title of Little Willie Littlefield’s original rendition of what later became known as “Kansas City.” When Stone hooked up with Syd Nathan’s DeLuxe label in Cincinnati, the single reappeared there as well.
Even then, Harrison was doggedly eclectic. Its flip “Letter Edged In Black” was a downbeat update of an ancient folk theme, and his DeLuxe encore paired the R&B jump “Gin And Coconut Milk,” sporting his first introductory “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!” going into its wailing sax break, and the groaning blues “Nobody Knows My Troubles.” Stone later fired up another imprint, Chart Records, reaching back for two tracks that Wilbert left behind in Henry’s archives for one more single. Harrison reverted to his Caribbean ways for a zesty “Calypso Man,” Stone pairing it with Wilbert’s personalized remake of the Sons of the Pioneers’ sagebrush anthem “Cool Water” that Stone bafflingly claimed publishing on (the Sons’ Bob Nolan was its actual composer).
Leaving Stone and warm, sunny Miami behind to relocate to the urban enclave of Newark, New Jersey, Harrison joined the roster of Herman Lubinsky’s hometown institution Savoy Records in 1954. Working with A&R man Fred Mendelsohn, Wilbert debuted there with a storming New York-cut cover of Terry Fell’s catchy country hit “Don’t Drop It” with Mickey Baker on slicing lead guitar. Harrison’s own late-night blues ode “The Ways Of A Woman,” decorated with nails-tough Baker lead licks, was its potent plattermate.
An all-star New York combo backed Wilbert on his Savoy encore, coupling Charles Singleton and Rose Marie McCoy’s “Da Dee Ya Da I’ll Do Anything For You” (his labelmates, the Roamers, were on backing vocals), and his own “Women And Whiskey.” It took Wilbert two tries to perfect his third Savoy single in 1956, but he eventually nailed the hard-driving “Darling, Listen To This Song” and a Bo Diddley-esque instrumental flip, “Florida Special.” Baker was on fire on both sides of Harrison’s next Savoy offering, twinning the sturdy mid-tempo “Confessin’ My Dream” and an after-hours blues, “The Way I Feel” (both Wilbert originals).
Savoy brought Harrison into a New York studio one more time in June of ‘57 to wax another pair of singles, Baker replaced by jazz stalwart Kenny Burrell. Barry Galbraith’s mandolin gave the delicate ballad “My Love Is True” a lilting Neapolitan flavor, while a tinge of the Diddley beat surfaced anew on the lighthearted rocker gracing the flip, “I Know My Baby Loves Me.” Wilbert closed out his Savoy stay with the self-penned stop-time rocker “Baby Don’t You Know,” pushed by Nat Pierce’s piano. The B-side “My Love For You Lingers On” rode a lurching oom-pah rhythm that wouldn’t have been out of place in a German beer hall.
While between labels, Harrison gigged in the smoky gin joints of Newark as a one-man band, trying out new (or recycled) material. His personalized version of “Kansas City”—originally cut in 1952 in Los Angeles by Texas-born pianist Little Willie Littlefield for Cincinnati-based Federal Records--inspired such positive reaction from his fans that he approached Bobby Robinson, the boss of Fury Records, about recording it. Robinson ran the label out of his record store on Harlem’s bustling 125th Street, just up the avenue from the Apollo Theatre. The South Carolina native had moved up to New York in 1937 and opened Bobby’s Record Shop in 1946, its proximity to the Apollo guaranteeing a brisk walk-in trade.
Bobby and younger brother Danny launched their first label, Robin (soon Red Robin) in 1951, specializing in R&B vocal groups and blues (Brownie McGhee, Sonny Terry, Champion Jack Dupree). Red Robin folded in 1956, Bobby immediately going into partnership with Jubilee Records boss Jerry Blaine at the brand-new Whirlin’ Disc imprint. But their venture lasted less than a year. Robinson rebounded by introducing Fury Records at the start of of ‘57, again focusing primarily on street corner doo-wop at first. Then Harrison dropped into his life.
That crucial juncture is where this expansive collection commences.
Since Lubinsky allegedly ordered him out of his Savoy office at gunpoint, Wilbert naturally assumed he was free to cut for Bobby. After a quick rehearsal convinced Bobby of the potential of “Kansas City,” he summoned his new find for a session the very next day of February 1959 at Bell Sound at 46th and 8th in midtown Manhattan. It was a split date with the Harrison Brothers (no relation); they finished their numbers, but there was no sign of Wilbert, who had been delayed by a flat tire on the New Jersey Turnpike. Harrison finally arrived, Bobby talked the engineer into giving him another 20 minutes of studio time, and the band (lead guitarist Wild Jimmy Spruill, bassist Jimmy Lewis, a drummer known as Fat Duck, and Wilbert doubling on piano) set back up. Two takes later Bobby had a timeless classic on tape, Spruill’s barbed-wire solo midway through adding flash. There was even time for Harrison to cut a flip side, the atmospheric, vocal group-backed downbeat original “Listen, My Darling.”
An excited Robinson hit the road to promote “Kansas City,” generously handing out acetates to particularly influential deejays across the country. That was a big mistake. All of a sudden, covers started coming out of the woodwork: Rockin’ Ronald & the Rebels on End, the equally unknown Rocky Olson on Chess, Little Richard on Specialty (his version actually dated from 1955). Not only did Syd Nathan press up a fresh rendition by Hank Ballard and the Midnighters on his King imprint, he exhumed Little Willie Littlefield’s original and dubbed in harder-edged guitar and drums to freshen it up for reissue. Larger labels offered licensing deals, but Bobby was determined to keep “Kansas City” on Fury.
Then the lawsuits started rolling in. Lubinsky sued, claiming Wilbert was still his property despite their dustup a couple of years prior. Armo Music, King/Federal’s publishing company, sued because Fury had neglected to list the names of composers Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller on the single, thus depriving them and Armo of royalties. Somehow Robinson persevered. That May, Fury had its first R&B chart-topper and accomplished a truly rare feat for a small indie firm when “Kansas City” sat proudly at the top of the pop hit parade. Harrison lip-synched his smash on ABC-TV’s Dick Clark Saturday Night Beechnut Show as a stand-up singer, modeling a snappy suit with his processed hair piled high and even eliciting a few squeals from the young gum-chomping babes in the audience. He was a genuine star.
But not for long. Successful encores were often elusive for overnight sensations, and Harrison was no exception (Savoy unsuccessfully reissued “Don’t Drop It” to siphon off sales). “Cheating Baby,” cut August 4, 1959 with Spruill back on savage lead guitar (as he would be throughout Wilbert’s tenure on Fury), sounded a bit too much like its illustrious predecessor to follow it up the charts and instead avoided them altogether, which was truly remarkable. Its composition was credited to Wilbert, Robinson, and Clarence “Fats” Lewis (Robinson’s silent partner, who owned a restaurant at 129th and Lenox). “It’s Been A Long Time” was waxed at the same session but vaulted at the time. Wilbert’s own “Don’t Wreck My Life,” sounding like a South Louisiana ballad with scratchy, reverb-drenched rhythm guitar high in the mix, stood in stark contrast as the flip of “Cheating Baby.”
The same ignominious fate befell the soundalike sequel “Good Bye Kansas City,” Harrison’s next self-penned offering (cut May 6,1959 at the same date that spawned “Don’t Wreck My Life”), despite Wild Jimmy living up to his nickname by bending some serious wire and Wilbert shifting the narrative from K.C. to the nightspots of Harlem. Harrison’s clever tribute to “1960” on the opposite side didn’t intrigue record buyers either (maybe they didn’t believe he was 21, as he dubiously claimed on the surging rocker).
Judging from the Stroll-worthy pace of his revival, Harrison must have been a serious fan of Atlanta blues shouter Chuck Willis, whose immortal revival of the ancient blues “C.C. Rider” was a 1957 R&B chart-topper. Wilbert’s 1960 version did have one curious addition to the studio band—the mandolinist was back, though this time a considerably bluesier one. King Curtis contributed a tough tenor sax solo, and Spruill filled stingingly behind Harrison’s vocals. This time Wilbert really did reach down to South Louisiana for the flip—Bobby Charles’ highly atmospheric “Why Did You Leave,” which Charles had originally waxed for Chess in 1956 (the mandolinist beat King out for solo space on Harrison’s remake).
Robinson tried to regenerate Wilbert’s hitmaking streak with the bubbly “Little School Girl,” his next Fury offering of 1960, surrounding him with lighthearted vocal harmonies and a bouncy rhythm backing. A classy organ-cushioned redo of Buddy and Ella Johnson’s smoky torch ballad “Since I Fell For You,” first cut by Buddy’s orchestra in 1945 for Decca, was its plattermate; the vocal group was a nice touch. It didn’t break Harrison’s chart drought, but smooth balladeer Lenny Welch made the tune a ‘63 smash.
1960 closed out for Harrison with “The Horse,” a lively dance number driven by Spruill’s grinding guitar that was again credited to the questionable triumvirate of Harrison, Robinson, and Fats Lewis. Wilbert returned to “Da-De-Ya-Da (Anything For You)” on its other side, the churning rhythmic thrust of the Savoy original replicated faithfully. Wilbert reverted to a very stripped-down setup for his first Fury release of ‘61, the catchy “Happy In Love;” it sounds like the melodic lead guitarist was the only other musician in the studio as Harrison unleashed his wheezy harmonica in addition to insistent rhythm guitar and rudimentary percussion. The joyous flip “Calypso Dance” took it one step further, dispensing with the lead axeman so Wilbert could do his own thing the way he had down in Charlotte a decade earlier.
Either Fury didn’t have Wilbert locked down all the way or Harrison just didn’t care, because a month after “Happy In Love” hit the shelves, his irresistible “Off To Work Again” came out on the Neptune label, an imprint headquartered at 1650 Broadway in New York that was best known for issuing Baby Washington’s first three hits. The diamond-hard tenor sax of King Curtis was all over “Off To Work Again” and its less aggressive flip “After Graduation.” When Lloyd Price’s Double L label reissued “Off To Work Again” on an anthology LP, it unearthed a third track ostensibly from the same date, the joyous “You Don’t Know,” for the set (Curtis’ bristling horn decorated it from start to finish).
Wilbert wasn’t done with the concept of the A-side of his self-penned Neptune single. He refashioned it into “Off To School Again,” which turned up on the minuscule Doc label out of Salem, Virginia in the autumn of 1962 (the short-lived company was apparently owned by a physician). Another “Kansas City” offshoot, “Broke,” adorned the B-side (the vocal group gave it a slightly different twist). Harrison’s band was christened the Kansas City Playboys.
Fury wasn’t annoyed enough by the Neptune single to cut Wilbert loose. For the first time, Sehorn officially shared production credit with Robinson on “Drafted,” which came out in the autumn of ‘61. Amidst recurring “Hut-two-three-fours” and a bugler blowing reveille, author Wilbert lamented being recruited into the Army over a steady beat as Spruill bent more screaming wire. The B-side “My Heart Is Yours” was a quirky Harrison ballad with a hard backbeat and Wild Jimmy again cranking his volume knob.
Harrison made one more jaunt back to his favorite destination at year’s end via the Fury release of “Kansas City Twist,” well removed melodically from its illustrious predecessor. Wilbert’s Twist entry, provided by Robinson and Lewis, was fairly generic but eminently danceable. As things turned out, it was the opposite side that endured. “Let’s Stick Together,” with its odd rhythmic pulse and Wilbert’s harmonica blasts and insistent rhythm guitar, was so distinctive that Robinson and Sehorn brought it back as the plug side of his next release.
Wilbert didn’t give up on his creation, giving it a fresh lyrical focus and reaping long-deserved rewards when his retitled “Let’s Work Together” cracked the Top 40 on Juggy Murray’s Sue logo near the end of 1969. Canned Heat’s cover did even better the following year. It remains a mystery how “A Woman Is Trouble” went unissued at the time—its clever lyrics are laid over a resilient piano-laid rhythmic drive, and Spruill sprays out a fusillade of scalding licks.
Sehorn took over the helm for Wilbert’s career after that. He formed the short-lived Sea-Horn label in 1963, producing and issuing Harrison’s “Near To You.” Pianist/arranger Robert Banks imparted far more of a Latin-tinged feel to Wilbert’s self-penned piece than anything he’d attempted previously; its thundering drums, reportedly supplied by Bernard Purdie, abetting a spicy uptown soul ambiance. The chanting chorines and strutting groove on its flip side “Say It Again” were more conventional than Harrison’s usual output, but the track was quite potent in its own right with a mean guitar break midway through.
It kicked off a series of one-off singles for Wilbert, Sehorn peddling masters to any and all interested parties. Chicago’s Constellation Records, home to soul stars Gene Chandler and Dee Clark, picked up Harrison’s self-composed tribute to the “New York World’s Fair,” granted a driving horn-fueled arrangement by New York stalwart Gene Redd using the same rhythmic pattern as the Newbeats’ hit “Bread And Butter” and countless more 1964 platters. Harrison had a fetish for south Louisiana obscurities; this time for a flip, he plucked “Mama, Mama, Mama,” an up-tempo charmer that had been singing drummer Warren Storm’s 1958 debut single for Crowley, La. producer J.D. Miller. J.D. was listed as composer on Storm’s 45 for Excello’s Nasco subsidiary, but Constellation didn’t bother to cite his songsmithing.
Larry Uttal’s New York-based Bell Records acquired the rights to Fire/Fury and began compiling Robinson’s masters on a series of albums and singles for his Sphere Sound imprint. Naturally, Harrison’s Sphere Sound album was titled Kansas City (hard as it is to believe, Bobby never granted Wilbert a Fury LP), and a 45 was pressed up featuring two previously unheard titles. Jaunty horns powered the ebullient “My Love,” its composition credited to Wilbert and Marshall, and former labelmate Buster Brown added his whooping harmonica to the proceedings, eliciting a delighted giggle from Harrison.
The genesis of the flip “Messed Around (And Fell In Love)” was a trifle more complicated. Written by New Orleans piano wizard Allen Toussaint under his Naomi Neville pseudonym, its Crescent City-cut backing track had already done yeoman duty behind fellow Fury artist Lee Dorsey on Constellation before Harrison wrapped his pipes around it (Sehorn produced both versions). Toussaint’s rolling piano and the pungent saxist worked equally well behind both singers, even if Wilbert didn’t share Lee’s Big Easy accent.
Sehorn took a momentary break from producing Wilbert on his next single. Danny Robinson had a new label that he christened Vest Records, and Harrison revived Chicago pianist Willie Mabon’s ominous 1954 Chess hit “Poison Ivy” as half of his only Vest offering during the summer of ‘65 (composer Mel London went on to launch his own Chief and Age labels). Wilbert penned the other side of the 45, “Please Forgive Me,” its mid-tempo beat very comfy territory.
Marshall found another outlet for his unceasing supply of Harrison masters a short time later. Port Records, an established New York indie, had recently pressed up singles by blues chanteuse Big Maybelle and former Fire Records duo Tarheel Slim and Little Ann when it picked up Wilbert’s revival of Chuck Willis’ ‘54 OKeh label hit “You’re Still My Baby.” It came paired with a surprisingly soul-oriented rocker, “Baby Move On,” featuring two-fisted piano work and a splendid sax break that may have been from King Curtis again.
Before the year was over, Port gave Harrison another shot. This time he officially shared production credit (as “Wilberton”) with Sehorn and arranging duties with Robert Banks. The happily shuffling Harrison original “Sugar Lump” was coupled with a remake of Earl (Connelly) King’s 1955 Top Ten R&B seller “Don’t Take It So Hard,” a laidback stop-time standout from the vast writing catalog of Rose Marie McCoy and Charles Singleton.
Bobby Robinson reactivated his Fury logo in 1966, and who better to inaugurate it than Wilbert, the man who so indelibly put his operation on the national map? Riding a thoroughly contemporary and totally danceable groove (Harrison intones the names of two then-current soul dances, the Boogaloo and the Karate, throughout the sweaty workout), “Let’s Have Some Fun” deserved to catapult Harrison back onto the national scene but didn’t quite get the job done.
Meanwhile, Sehorn and Toussaint had put together their own Deesu label. They shared production credit for Wilbert’s lone 45 on the imprint, which came out in June of ‘66, though the playful rocker sure doesn’t sound like a product of New Orleans. “Clementine” should have been spelled “Clementeen” when Harrison registered it with BMI—that’s the way he sang it. Instead of staying with original material Wilbert reached way back for the B-side, the mellow Tin Pan Alley standard “Sentimental Journey,” composed by pop orchestra leader Les Brown, Ben Homer, and Bud Green. Brown’s band and featured young vocalist Doris Day had a mammoth smash with the tune in 1944. Wilbert kicked his revival off dramatically and then got lowdown funky, his journey a million miles away from that of squeaky-sweet Doris.
After a one-off Henry Glover-produced 45 for Morris Levy’s Roulette Records in 1967 twinning “Mini Parade” and “No Ones Love But Yours” (the latter a Harrison original), Wilbert moved on to cut “Let’s Work Together” for Juggy Murray’s reactivated Sue label and scored an out-of-left-field national hit at the end of 1969. Sue unleashed an album of the same title that was heavy on ‘50s R&B remakes (the immortal “Thunder Thumb” was on bass). Murray was also involved on the production side with Wilbert’s ‘71 album for the Juggernaut label, Shoot You Full of Love (its title track was the A-side of Harrison’s only single for the firm).
Always in the market for a promising licensing opportunity, Nashville producer Shelby Singleton picked up the rights to some of Wilbert’s vintage sides. Shelby’s SSS International logo enjoyed a minor hit with a reissue of Harrison’s Fury-era “My Heart Is Yours” in March of 1971. Its plattermate “Pretty Little Women” was another Sehorn reclamation project; he took the backing track from Chicago slide guitar ace Elmore James’ torrid ‘61 Fire performance of “Stranger Blues” and overdubbed Harrison singing his own song atop it. Somehow it worked.
Singleton’s fledgling Wet Soul logo cobbled together an album’s worth of old Harrison material under the title Anything You Want that year, featuring five previously unheard items.
Wilbert’s own “I Got To Know” was a hard-hitting uptown soul-styled dance floor filler with raucous horn lines and clattering percussion, and his buoyant revival of Chuck Willis’ Latin-spiced “From The Bottom Of My Heart” was similarly satisfying, again pushed by punchy horns.
The laidback “Sadness And Sorrow” presented Wilbert’s seldom-heard balladeer side, while “Your Three Letters” opened with a lengthy dramatic recitation lifted directly from blues shouter Larry Darnell’s 1950 R&B smash “I’ll Get Along Somehow” before segueing into a melodic snatch of Johnny Ace’s lonesome blues ballad “My Song.” Harrison indulged his passion for pop standards by revisiting “(It Will Have To Do) Until The Real Thing Comes Along,” a 1936 composition by Sammy Cahn, Saul Chaplin, and three others that had been hits for orchestra leader Andy Kirk, Fats Waller, the Ink Spots, and several more in its early days.
Sehorn got ambitious and produced an entire album for Wilbert in 1971. Cut at Reflection Sound Studio in Harrison’s original hometown of Charlotte, the set was licensed to Buddah and came out eponymously. Marshall recruited his partner Toussaint to arrange the horns, but that was about it for any discernible New Orleans flavor as Harrison gave his singular spin to some familiar titles.
Hank Williams’ “Cold, Cold Heart,” Little Walter’s “My Babe,” Gene Allison’s “You Can Make It If You Try,” Jimmy Reed’s “Honest I Do,” and Fats Domino’s “Ain’t That A Shame,” “Going To The River,” and “Blueberry Hill” were all granted new life; even the ancient Crescent City rouser “When The Saints Go Marching In” was dusted off. The usually prolific Harrison only brought two new titles to the project: “My Dream” and “Girls On Parade.”
Reflection Sound was also the recording site for Harrison’s 1972 single on Nashville’s Hot Line Records. Credited to Wilbert and Marshall, the skimpy storyline of the succulent “Get It While You Can” consisted of a menu of soul food dishes served up over a swirling rhythmic bed seasoned with Harrison’s trusty harmonica and chopping guitar chording. A personalized treatment of the inspirational anthem “Amen” sat on the B-side, Wilbert asking his listeners to stand and sing along with an expanded cast that included a Wardell Quezergue-arranged horn section, organ, and a choir. Wilbert and Marshall tried to claim authorship for the Impressions’ ‘65 hit, though the Wings Over Jordan Choir recorded it more than a decade before that.
Wilbert and Marshall remained a team long enough to make another full album they titled Soul Food Man when it came out on Chelsea Records in 1976 (the title track was actually “Get It While You Can”). Sehorn and Toussaint were listed as producers; their song choices were even more eclectic than usual as Harrison delved back into calypso for a lilting “Mary Ann” (most often associated with Harry Belafonte, the tune was the invention of Trinidad native Roaring Lion in 1945). The traditional folk chestnut “On Top Of Old Smokey” was a truly weird pick, and Wilbert didn’t make it any less so by subtly incorporating a Cajun fiddler. Harrison had waxed a different version of Ronnie Arthurs’ sexually boastful “Loving Operator” for Brunswick in 1974 without Sehorn’s input, but this superior rendition was more in Wilbert’s wheelhouse.
Even though the LP claimed that “I Don’t Know” was a Harrison original, it was actually Willie Mabon’s threatening 1953 R&B chart-topper, rendered faithfully. Chelsea was more accurate with the writer’s credit for Wilbert’s redo of Lloyd Price’s plaintive ‘57 ballad “Just Because.” Sehorn economized by including two fresh takes of Wilbert’s 1959 Fury single “Cheating Baby” on the album, one taken at a bit slower clip than the other. He renamed Side One’s version “Sweet Baby” and the other on Side Two “Cheatin’ Woman,” apparently assuming no one would notice their obvious similarity.
But Wilbert provided several solid originals this time. The clattering album opener “I Really Love You,” draped over chord changes once removed from “La Bamba,” was quintessential Harrison, melding his multi-instrumentalist approach seamlessly under a pleading declaration of devotion. “Tell On Yourself” dug deep into Wilbert’s signature groove, infectious as ever, and “I Will Never Trust A Woman” was a straight grinding blues with a tasty organ solo and 12 bars of lead guitar that may have been Harrison himself. “Coming Down With Love” was especially savory, Wilbert alternating between an endearing falsetto and his normal vocal range over a hypnotic two-chord structure.
Harrison apparently returned to Fury one last time to work with Bobby Robinson in 1976. The two co-wrote “(Just Got Have Some) Money Honey” and Bobby produced the 45, but precious few noticed. All the familiar elements were in place—harmonica, chomping rhythm guitar, rowdy vocal, and a hard backbeat this time accentuated by tambourine. The previous year, Harrison had released a similarly titled “I Need Some (Money Honey)” on Brunswick. Chicago arranger James Mack supplied the charts and Harrison produced, but it avoided the charts too.
Wilbert Harrison kept on making music for his fans in juke joints and elsewhere, usually in one-man band mode. He suffered a stroke and passed away on October 26, 1994 in Spencer, North Carolina at age 65. His recorded legacy has never been covered so extensively as on this deluxe package. When Wilbert yelled “Mercy!” just prior to a blistering guitar solo from Wild Jimmy Spruill, as he did on his eternal signature song “Kansas City,” he was clearly having a ball. You will too when you dig this splendid collection.
--Bill Dahl
SOURCES
Blues Records 1943-70: A Selective Discography, Vol. 1, A to K, by Mike Leadbitter and Neil Slaven (London: Record Information Services, 1987)
Discogs website: www.discogs.com
45cat website: www.45cat.com
Joel Whitburn’s Top Pop Singles 1955-1990, by Joel Whitburn (Menomonee Falls, WI: Record Research Inc., 1991)
Record Makers and Breakers: Voices of the Independent Rock ‘n’ Roll Pioneers, by John Broven (Urbana IL and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009)
Wikipedia website: www.wikipedia.org
YouTube website: www.youtube.com