Colloquially speaking, a wet willie is the act of spitting on one’s finger and sticking it in someone else’s ear. It falls into the realm of innocent prank. On average, five people per year are killed for doing it. A mean person might say the music of the chicken and grits Southern Rock soul and boogie band Wet Willie is equally unpleasant. I am not a mean person. I happen to like Wet Willie’s music very much.
Hailing from Mobile, Alabama, the original site of Mardi Gras in the United States, Wet Willie is (they’re still out there somewhere) definitely a juke joint party band, with all that entails—the songs they recorded in their prime may not be have been for the ages, but Wet Willie poured a lot of gasoline on them and struck a match. While you could hardly call Wet Willie commercially successful—they only scored one Top Ten hit, and their remaining singles tanked. That said, I’ll bet they put on one helluva live show.
If you were listening to music on the radio in the 1970s you will no doubt remember “Keep on Smilin,” a friendly tune about showing the world a good front while somebody drives a nail through your foot. Metaphorically, of course—vocalist Jimmy Hall (who tosses in a great harmonica solo) is mainly addressing such important societal issues as holes in your shoes, woman problems, and questions of personal identity (“Are you a farmer or are you a star?”). It was one of my favorite songs of 1974; problem is it was the only song on 1997’s Wet Willie’s Greatest Hits I’d ever hear on the radio, or anywhere else for that matter.
Wet Willie capture the spirit of Otis Redding on their cover of his “Shout Bamalama.” Hill sings like he’s on fire, John David Anthony plays a rollicking piano solo, and there’s some nifty vocal back and forth between Hill and a female backing vocalist. The rocking mid-tempo blues “Airplane” opens with some Jimi Hendrix wah-wah guitar gratis Ricky Hirsch; on their funky cover of Little Milton’s “Grits and Groceries,” Hall tells his woman if he doesn’t love her Mona Lisa’s a man, assisted by some Lynyrd Skynyrd-style female backing vocals. They also join Hall on “The Country Side of Life,” which could be a template for the Black Crowes’ “Hard to Handle.”
“Dixie Rock” mixes and matches Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Allman Brothers Band and lives up to its name; Hirsch plays power chords and a blistering guitar while Hall extols the restorative power of a jumping jukebox. He also gives shout-outs to your Southern states before Hirsch takes the song out with a fret-bending guitar solo. On “Baby Fat” Wet Willie play that funky music, white boy, assisted by a horn section and a chorus of “Baby fat, that’s where it’s at.” I hope they’re not talking cannibalism. The soul number “Everything That ‘Cha Do (Will Come Back to You)” is propelled by Jack Hall’s reverberating bass and Hirsch’s chucka-chucka guitar. Basic message: Karma is a bitch.
The slide guitar and piano-banger “Leona” has a “Gimme Three Steps” vibe and concerns a woman Hall loves for her home cooking. “You cook a good old golden brown southern fried chicken,” he sings, “That would make the Colonel run and hide.” Poultry is also the subject of the weakest track on Wet Willie’s Greatest Hits, “Red Hot Chicken.” Its wooden-leg funk doesn’t hold a barbequed wing to Rufus Thomas’ “Do the Funky Chicken,” on which Rufus promises his dance will “Make you feel like you want to do something nasty/Like wipe some chicken gravy on your white shirt/Right down front.” In comparison, “Red Hot Chicken” sounds like it came straight from the icebox.
Wet Willie are one of those bands that got lost in the Southern Rock shuffle, and you certainly won’t find them at the top of anyone’s list when talk turns to the genre. Hell, their name might not come up at all. Which is hardly fair—when it comes to Dixie Rock, Wet Willie more than held their own. So buy this record. Or risk having Wet Willie stick it in your ear.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
