Les Copeland is a fine guitarist and an underrated vocalist. He hails from Canada, but the blues he bring to life on this disc really are universal. This album is Copeland's first release on Earwig. According to the label, it "showcases Les’ fine finger picking, melodic sensibility and chordal finesse, and his wry and ironic lyrical observations about everyday people." Copeland shows a talent for all kinds of songs here--sometimes he's doing Chicago blues, sometimes jazz, sometimes old-style country, and sometimes folk music, but always the music and vocals are clear and strong and honest. All the songs but one are Copeland originals. On several songs Copeland's slide guitar playing reminds me of Ry Cooder--especially on "Ry Cooder" and "Riding The Sky Train." And on "Ginseng Girl" and "Wet Paper Bag" Copeland shows that he has listened to Barney Kessel, spinning out gorgeous jazz melodies. On "I'm The Little One" he even sings a children's song, and on the next song "Everyday People" Copeland takes a very nice folkish turn. His singing voice reminds me of Jimmie Rodgers, especially on "What's Your Name," "Long Lost Love," and "Distant Train." All these comparisons are high praise.
Helping Copeland here are guest Hall of Fame bluesman David 'Honeyboy' Edwards on second guitar on two songs, "Anna Lee" and "How's That Drummer." And Honeyboy's manager, Michael Frank, contributes harmonica on three songs, "What's Your Name," "Silently," and the title track.
Les Copeland has made an interesting and quite good disc.
Les Copeland is a rambling blues artist who needs no one else to help him express how he feels about his personalized music. He's an exceptional guitarist, especially when he goes to the bottleneck slide, and his soulful voice is distinctive, a bit gritty and dirty, getting the job done time after time. All of these songs save one are originals written by Copeland, depicting lost love, interest in trains, and the push/pull of life based on his experiences growing up in Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada. Cleary in tribute to "Ry Cooder," where his slide guitar side comes shining through, or distinctly influenced by fellow Canadian Jorma Kaukonen during "Distant Train," you hear where Copeland has come from and is going toward. There's a sweeter, jazz swing element to "Ginseng Girl," a tougher persona à la Muddy Waters during an interpretation of Robert Nighthawk's "Anna Lee," and a more deliberate aspect to three specific selections where Earwig head honcho Michael Frank joins Copeland on harmonica. David "Honeyboy" Edwards gets in on another two songs that demonstrate the low-down, slowed-down rural blues roots of this music. So it's not all about Les Copeland, but he is that main man on this delightful set of folk-blues with an edge that should be easily favored by all stripes of purist blues enthusiasts.
They say musicians have their whole lives to prepare for their first album. When you wait until you're 43 to record that debut, you've probably got one heck of a lot to say. Les Copeland is a virtuoso guitar player from British Columbia who has assimilated just about every acoustic and slide guitar style ever conceived. From Mississippi Delta stylings to jazz, from Celtic folk to the Piedmont finger-picking approach, Copeland knows it all.
For the most part, he plays solo acoustic or electric guitar, with occasional overdubs and two guest players on a couple cuts. While he's undoubtedly performed material from all the masters he's admired, his album contains 14 originals, with only one cover to round it out. Don't Let the Devil In is an entirely admirable and thoroughly enjoyable recording showcasing Copeland's impeccable chops and his comfortable vocals.
Les Copeland's Don't Let The Devil In
The album grabs attention from the first notes, as Copeland's finger-picking acoustic guitar recalls both John Fahey's delicious takes on Anglican hymns and English folkie Bert Jansch's approach to American blues. Copeland sings of his intention to be available for his friend/lover as necessary, but by referring to his availability when "that needing time sets in," he takes himself way outside the contemporary realm, and makes his role almost that of a sacred helpmate. Presumably, the occasional slide interpolations are overdubbed, but it's Copeland's dynamic vocal and aggressive finger-picking that carries the song.
"Ry Cooder" is a tribute to the style which made its namesake famous back in the 1970s. A lush solo electric guitar piece, with invigorating slide guitar and gentle finger-picked counterpoint, this instrumental has a generously evocative melody which lives up to its inspiration. "What’s Your Name" sounds like one of those Southern folk songs that would have fit nicely in Oh Brother, Where Art Thou, with its vigorously strummed acoustic chords, and nice bluesy wailing from Earwig Records president and terrific harmonica player Michael Frank. But the lyric, sung with passion and obvious self-reflection by Copeland, is much more modern, a clear attempt at examining one man's understanding of his many roles. (It also contains references to Copeland's first daughter, who passed away a few days after being born, and whose memory fuels some of his songs.)
Down The Delta With "Honeyboy" Edwards
"Distant Train" is probably the 10,000th song written which conflates a train going away with the loss of a lover, but who cares? Copeland's jazzy, syncopated and fabulously inventive electric guitar picking and slide on this one makes it a winner. It's basically a blues song, but Copeland takes the harmonies into surprising territory, especially on the two terrific instrumental choruses in the middle. "Riding the Sky Train" is a brief but delightful instrumental which returns to the Ry Cooder tone on electric guitar as he finds surprising takes on chord changes reminiscent of the traditional spiritual "I’ll Fly Away."
Then comes "Silently," another strummed acoustic number with extremely expressive harp from Frank. Copeland is mining the folk tradition here, using simple yet evocative images of approaching winter to reflect the loss of yet another relationship. (For an album this pleasurable, there sure are a lot of losses in Copeland’s songs).
David "Honeyboy" Edwards makes the first of two appearances on a stately Delta-inspired take on Robert Nighthawk’s "Anna Lee." The two electric guitarists sound like they're having a great time conversing with each other, commenting on each other's solos and injecting ideas for the other to take flight. "Long Lost Love" draws influences from a few hundred miles to the east, sounding like a cross between Mississippi John Hurt and the Carter Family. Copeland's lyric is wicked, twisting the expectation of sorrow inspired by the title into a realization of freedom; his Piedmont-derived picking is delicious here, and his vocal recalls Chris Smither in his prime, though that could be a matter of shared influences on songs like this one.
Crying For An Angel
"Ginseng Girl" brings us back to jazz territory, with a spritely Charlie Christian influence on a boppish tune. At this point in the album, Copeland's dexterity in so many styles is becoming overwhelmingly impressive. He brings back "Honeyboy" Edwards for another duet on "How's That Drummer," which concerns the drummer who once ran off with Copeland's wife. Never mind the lyrics, which are charming and silly, but feast on the sheer delight and joy of these two electric guitars playing together. It's easy to imagine they can do this for hours at a time without running out of inspiration. Unfortunately, "I’m the Little One" follows, the only misstep on the record. Perhaps it would have fit on a children's record for kids expecting a new little brother or sister, but in this context, it just sounds cloying, no matter how much love Copeland injects into the folkish tune.
Heading into the home stretch, we come to "Everyday People." It’s an 8-bar blues with an inventive tune and some hilarious observations about the people around us – "Sometimes they've got hundred dollar hair on a five cent head" is particularly great. Copeland's singing has been great throughout the record, but he displays a dry wit here perfectly appropriate to the lyrics; it's not easy to tell punch lines in song without telegraphing them, but he pulls it off. He sticks with this approach on "Wet Paper Bag," which sounds like a Hoagy Carmichael song with lyrics inspired by Frank Zappa. It features a terrific little jazzy solo on acoustic guitar, too.
