Apart from Capricorn Records’ flagship artist, the Allman Brothers Band, Wet Willie was the most distinctive signee to the label Phil Walden built and nurtured upon the success of so-called Southern rock. Emphasizing blues, soul, and R&B influences in tight, compact performances, Willie had a mind and personality of its own right from the start.
Hence, it’s no surprise that the latter band from Alabama sought to branch out fifty-five years ago with Dixie Rock, its fourth studio album (released in February 1975). The group again worked with Tom Dowd to broaden the expanse of its style without diluting its roots: the long-time studio supervisor of the Brothers themselves had also produced the WW’s previous long-player, the title song of which “Keep On Smilin’,” was their most notable hit.
Accordingly, Wet Willie presented the hard-charging title song and “Listen To The Music.” Likewise, on the similarly driving penultimate cut, “Leona:” As on all the best moments in this band’s history, the musicians and singers—featuring vocalists dubbed ‘the Williettes’—Ella Avery and Donna Hall (the frontman of the band’s sister)—sound every bit as caught up in the performance as they hope the audience will be.
The remainder of the thirty-eight minutes or so found Wet Willie tilling mostly familiar soil first turned on their eponymous debut without any diminution of enthusiasm or authenticity. Fevered takes thus ensue on the testimonial to optimistic acceptance that is “It’s Gonna Stop Rainin’ Soon” and a piece of infectious syncopation composed by guitarist Ricky Hirsch, “Poor Judge of Character,”
Eschewing extended tracks in favor of concise, three- to four-minute cuts like those positioned lead singer Jimmy Hall as the group’s primary voice in both vocal and instrumental terms. But Hirsch’s guitar parts are also short, sweet, and to the point, his musicianly virtues accentuated by John Anthony’s tasteful keyboards.
Meanwhile, the various acoustic and electric melody instruments bounce atop Jack Hall’s basswork. This sibling of Jimmy’s interlocks with percussionist Lewis Ross on drums, congas, and percussion during cuts like “Ain’t He A Mess” so that the groove-centric rhythms they generate almost seem to take on a life of their own.
Even with the integration of Hall’s harmonica and alto saxophone in the opening of “She’s My Lady,” the mix on Dixie Rock is never too dense for its good. Its upbeat, distinctive skills most likely honed so effectively through the discerning efforts of Dowd–the man who had worked with Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin, not to mention Eric Clapton and his Derek & The Dominos–Wet Willie never sounded like it was trying too hard to attract listeners (in contrast to the implicit overstatement in this album’s title).
Consequently, like the ode to the Delta titled “Jailhouse Moan,” the rare straight blues “Mama Didn’t Raise No Fool” succeeds because the musicians display such admirable self-restraint. The unison tempo shift at the four-minute mark dramatically transforms a selection running just over five minutes in duration.
While varying group personnel have presented shows over the years in the wake of the formal dissolution of the group in the late Seventies (after two albums on Epic Records), the 1998 remaster of Dixie Rock, unfortunately, doesn’t add any extra content. But if that omission suggests the members aren’t interested in exploring the past too much, the front cover photo is a statement.
The core quintet radiates enough brash insouciance to implant an impression as distinct as the group no doubt did when opening for the Allmans just years prior to issuing this LP five and a half decades ago.
