Published on Jan 4, 2000
Peter Wolf and the J. Geils Band might be best known for their
pop success in the early ’80s, with hits like “Freeze-Frame” and
“Centerfold” that burned their way up the charts at the time. But
their career did not always follow the road of pop success;
instead, they started out their commercial life in the eye of the
blues revival of the late ’60s. In the shadow of artists like Paul
Butterfield, the group (named after guitarist J. Geils) paid homage
to their blues roots instead of the top 40 charts.
Chances are, unless you grew up with the band in the ’70s, the
only thing you know the J. Geils Band for are the pop hits. To
those people, the group’s self-titled debut effort from 1970 might
be a shocker, as well as a disappointment. No, we have to think
outside the box and forget about the band’s post-1980 history to
approach this album… nope, didn’t help too much.
There are some moments on
The J. Geils Band that were truly awe-inspiring, but for the
most part, the album sounds like it’s captured the opening act
instead of the headliner.
The first thing that hits you when you start this album is, “Do
we really need to hear the harmonica constantly?” On the album’s
opener “Wait,” it seems like Magic Dick’s harp work is heard any
time that Wolf isn’t singing – in fact, it’s used as a lead
instrument more often than Geils’s guitar work at times. Okay, so
there are shades of Big Walter Horton there, but sometimes the
harmonica work does dip into levels of oversaturation.
The magical moments of this album don’t come often, but they’re
powerful when they do arrive. Take the instrumental “Ice Breaker,”
for example. The musicianship of the group (as well as Geils’s
songwriting talents) are distinctly heard, and this track seems to
pass faster than the 2:15 the listing says it runs for. (If there
was an argument for making a track longer, I’d make it for this
song.) Likewise, their cover of Otis Rush’s “Homework” sizzles like
butter on a skillet, and makes you wonder why Rush never became a
blues superstar until the late ’90s.
Unfortunately, the bulk of
The J. Geils Band doesn’t share in the same level of magic,
often sounding like nothing is coming together for the band. (I’ve
seen blues performers have an off-night in concert, and it isn’t a
pretty sight; forgive me if I don’t name names.) A good portion of
the other cover tunes, including John Lee Hooker’s “Serves You
Right To Suffer” and Albert Collins’s “Sno-Cone,” don’t have the
same level of energy as “Homework” did. (I’ll concede this much;
Wolf’s laid-back vocal probably is close to the way that Hooker
would have delivered it.)
But even some of the originals can’t capture the kind of magic
that I think the J. Geils Band wanted to capture on this release.
Cuts like “On Borrowed Time” and “”Hard Drivin’ Man” just don’t
carry the same oomph as other songs of that era in American
music.
It’s not that The J. Geils Band didn’t know or have respect for
their blues elders; they were paying dues to some of these artists
long before their careers got revitalized thanks to the next
generation of blues artists. But
The J. Geils Band doesn’t have the same kind of magic that
one would expect from an album recorded while blues was enjoying a
resurgence in commercial popularity. If you want to hear the band
behind the MTV-hype, then check this one out. Otherwise, let’s
leave this disc for the die-hard fans only.