Allison brings back old style of blues

Around the turn of the century, a new sound was being developed in the region of the Mississippi River delta. Spread by itinerant African Americans who wandered through small towns making a living by playing this music in local juke joints, this sound is now called the blues. As African Americans moved in great numbers northward and to larger cities, this music moved with them. In its new urban environment, the music developed a more solid structure and stronger sense of melody. It also found its way into the evolution of America's other unique musical creation, jazz.

This past weekend, with the help of bassist Dan Kolton and drummer Tom Brown, the pianist/singer/composer Mose Allison related his 72 years of life experiences to Bird of Paradise audiences through his interpretations of this music. Born in Mississi

CHRIS CAMPERNEL/Daily Mose Allison plays the blues the way they were meant to be played.

ppi, Allison encompasses the ideas of the original blues masters, who hailed from his neighborhood, into his own work. This was evident Friday, as he played numerous songs written by Southern blues legends Robert Lockwood, Buddy Johnson and Willie Dixon. Allison, who began his professional career playing with jazz greats like Stan Getz, Zoot Sims and Bob Brookmeyer, showed the more sophisticated side of his music through complicated piano solos and constant interaction with the other two members of his trio.

Allison reeled off about 20 songs during the hour-long show. Quick, to-the-point renditions were subtly fused together in a seamless assemblage of tunes. Occasionally during song shifts he gave a brief explanation of the origin of the last or next piece, but would never stop playing as he spoke. This business-like attitude asked the audience to consider the music as a whole, rather than the individual segments that made up the set.

For many jazz musicians, the blues is a preset chord progression, a structure upon which to base improvisation and a starting point for individual expression (although, depending on the musician, the blues can mean much more). This holds true for Allison, whose solos depended upon building an intensity and complexity over a simple background. In one particularly fine instance, he began by circling lithe eighth-note patterns into a sort of frenzy. Layering a series of repeated tremolos and rich chords upon this mix, he built the solo into a foreboding thunderstorm. Yet, just as the rising left-hand block chords implied some kind of resolution or climax, he backed away from the summit and started building again. This brand of weaving tension characterized the whole show, as Allison moved from a speedy technical piece, through a bluesier stomp, to a lolling swinger and back.

Most people know the cathartic nature of the blues. It allows a musician to exercise his frustrations, confusions, and joys through the manner of song. Allison does not have a technically articulate voice, but one that swings soothingly with a distinctive and approachable quality. As he sang confessions of lost love, newfound love, confusion, sorrow, pride, survival and worldly knowledge, the audience could listen and laugh with a discerning sympathy. A large part of this is the honesty of the blues, and specifically the sincerity of Allison's renditions.

"Not your hoochie coochie man, not your seventh son," he sang in reference to two Willie Dixon tunes, one of which he had played earlier in the evening, "just another middle class white boy, out tryin' to have some fun." Allison was not born into the type of impoverished life that many associate with the classic blues stories. Nor does his music follow directly in the tradition of Willie Dixon, Robert Johnson or Bessie Smith who lived these stories. But his ability to cleverly poke fun at his non-traditional blues background illustrates the quick wit and intelligence that make Allison's blues his own.

02-22-99