This LP collects recordings made of the North Carolina
singer and guitarist Willie Trice by Peter B. Lowry in the
period July, 1971--December, 1973. The music that Willie Trice plays here is
superlatively strong and in a personal style of considerable complexity, to
the extent that much of what Willie Trice played can be fairly said to be
distinctively his own. That degree of originality and particularity of voice
is very rare, in any style.
At the time at which Peter Lowry and Bruce Bastin found Willie Trice, after
a tip from Buddy Moss, Willie had gone through a period in which he had not
done a lot of playing. Moreover, he had serious physical challenges, and had
recently lost both of his legs from the knee down due to diabetic
complications. That having been said, it is apparent from the first notes
that Willie Trice plays on the LP that there is no need to make allowances
for his infirmities in listening to his music. Far from being the pale
memory of a once-great player's music, the renditions here are muscular and
alertly engaged, from the beginning of the program right through to its end.
How can Willie Trice's sound be characterized? Willie's singing voice was a
light baritone with a bright sort of overtone to it, and his delivery was
very country. He was not an urban guy and made no bones about it. His tone
on the guitar was big, full, and ringing--not sloppy, but also not being
struck carefully to avoid mistakes. Willie's most distinctive quality, it
seems to me, resided in his phrasing and sense of time. In these areas, he
was so much his own man, and definitely not a member of the musical herd
adhering to formal conventions. As a result, his phrasing could be angular,
metrically irregular and yet swinging and danceable. Indeed, the
infectiousness of his rhythm often masks the thorniness of his conception
until you listen with an ear to figure out what he's doing, at which point
you say, 'Wait a second!' He was fond of inserting chordal resolutions into
forms in places where you are not accustomed to hearing them. He was not a
player who relegated the thumb of his right hand to any kind of regular
time-keeping; it's the sign of a player very secure in his rhythmic sense,
for you don't have to play the pulse for it to be there, ticking away,
whether or not you state it explicitly. In this respect, Willie Trice's
playing is like Buddy Moss's or
Blind Lemon Jefferson's, and in
a couple of instances it shares an even less common trait with Lemon's
treatment of time: a temporary suspension of pulse altogether, so that the
musical idea is swimming freely until the time when he chooses to
re-introduce the pulse. It takes confidence to be comfortable choosing such
a vertiginous course, but when it works, it's like magic. Good for Lemon and
good for Willie, and may the rest of us keep striving!
Johnm
