Throughout their existence as one of the South's best live bands, Wet Willie's major problem has always been the projection of the vibrance and enthusiasm of their stage show onto vinyl. Their earlier efforts have vacillated between a too loose "downhome revival" groove and an occasionally stuffy approach to precision that has, on alternate albums, negated both the band's professionalism and entertainment talents.
treated to a choice mating of Southern rock drive and classic R&B feeling, a combination with which Wet Willie scores repeatedly.
"Country Side of Life" typifies the success of the mixture—instrumentation firmly rooted in the Southern rock tradition, lyrics and vocal posturing in the classic R&B mold. Where many white singers would approach this material by trying to sound like Bill Broonzy, Jimmy Hall is content to accept his voice for what it is, relying on the naturalness of his performance to convey the "gospel truthfulness" so inherent to the great black R&B vocal masters.
As for dues, two songs at least meet the monthly interest. "Trust in the Lord" draws heavily on the gospel influences of the band's homeland, though not in as obnoxiously heavy-handed a way as does the crooning of Leon Russell. And though "Alabama" seems to be but the obligatory (for Southern bands, at least) apologetic ode to the motherland, it's blessed with lyrics solid enough to support the otherwise tenuous comparison of lover and homeland.
The title cut, though, is the most impressive number Wet Willie has done yet, a paced, patterned effort that prospers on gradually slackened vocal restraint. The addition of Williettes Donna Hall and Ella Avery to the band's line-up here proves a godsend — the two girls build to a shimmering vocal crescendo that finally rises to dominate the proceedings by the song's end. Not only does the band appear to be polished on this number, they also appear remarkably poised — in stark contrast to countless other white bands who've tried to pull off R&B trips before.
This is the album Wet Willie has been promising ever since it first took the stage — not insipid, not overbearing, just gutty downhome music sung and played from the heart. That they've finally committed such music to vinyl comes as no surprise; relief that it's finally done is the only acceptable emotion. (RS 168)
GORDON FLETCHER
