Long before singer Boz Scaggs laid claim to Fenton Robinson's classic slow-blues grind "Somebody Loan Me A Dime," the Mississippi-born, Chicago-based guitarist had earned a reputation as a smooth-as-silk vocalist, an even slicker instrumentalist who brought jazzy tones to his diehard blues, and a talented songwriter whose material was recorded by artists like Lowell Fulson, Buddy Guy, and others.
Robinson originally recorded "Somebody Loan Me A Dime" in 1967 for the small, independent Chicago-based Palos Records label. A sad story, but a smashface snowstorm hit the Windy City, choking the label's attempts at national distribution of the single, and while it was a big regional hit, it never got a chance to break through nationally as it could and should have happened. Scaggs' cover on his self-titled 1969 debut was recorded in Muscle Shoals with Duane Allman providing his considerable guitar prowess to the performance, and somewhere down the line Scaggs copped songwriting credit, which would be the source of much subsequent litigation.
Fenton Robinson's Somebody Loan Me A Dime
As much as I personally like Scaggs' version of the song, it's irrelevant as Robinson's 1974 remake of "Somebody Loan Me A Dime" is a classic slice of Chicago blues history. Robinson's yearning vocals are matched by his elegant fretwork, drummer Tony Gooden's nuanced rhythms, and keyboardist Bill Heid's jazzy flourishes. Shorter and with more punch than Scaggs' extended reading, Robinson's version of "Somebody Loan Me A Dime" compresses the song's lyrical heartache and emotion into a three-minute knockout punch. But Somebody Loan Me A Dime, the album, is no one-trick pony; Robinson's "The Getaway" is an emotionally-charged performance with expressive, tearful vocals and razor-sharp, crying guitar licks that rise above a steady-walking rhythm.
A cover of Little Richard's classic "Directly From My Heart To You" is spiced up by the addition of Dave Baldwin's horn arrangement, the tenor sax blower leading a funky brass section that blasts away behind Robinson's powerful vocals. As the guitarist embroiders the performance with filigree guitarplay, rhythm guitarist Mighty Joe Young and bassist Cornelius Boyson provide a bedrock foundation for the song while Heid's honky-tonk-styled piano-play tinkles away in the background. It's a very cool version of this R&B treasure, delivered with plenty of energy and spirit.
Going To Chicago
Robinson's reading of the traditional "Going To Chicago" is provided a slow, nearly lethargic tempo, but there's nothing sleepy about the guitarist's performance. His vocals are drenched with be-bop cool, his carefully-crafted licks sparse but meaningful as the piano trills behind him and the band delivers a rolling, snowballing avalanche of rhythm. Robinson's original "You Don't Know What Love Is" is a perfect example of mid-1970s soul, an inspired blending of bluesy roots and contemporary R&B. The song's tear-jerker lyrics are heartbreaking, the singer's delivery passionate and emotionally believable. Robinson's guitar playing here is a thing of great beauty, complimented by the horn section's subtle and well-timed blasts of soul.
"Country Girl" is somewhat of a departure, although Robinson doesn't stray too far afield, the song a curious blend of doo-wop rhythms, a bluesy backdrop, and just a hint of Southern twang around the edges. Robinson's voice rises above its normal volume and register here, the singer delivering a powerhouse take a la Solomon Burke, while his fleet fingers provide great tone and texture. A cover of "Texas Flood," written by Robinson's old buddy Larry Davis and best-known as recorded by Lone Star guitarslinger Stevie Ray Vaughan, is unlike anything you ever heard before. Robinson's soulful vocals drip with pathos, the piano provides a lonesome coda, Gooden's muscular drumbeats provide a bedrock rhythm, and Robinson's soaring six-string performance offers shade and nuance that most other guitarists could only aspire to playing.
The Reverend's Bottom Line
Fenton Robinson was no stranger to these songs when he recorded them in 1974 for Alligator Records, having waxed many of them previously for a handful of minor league labels and performing them for years on Chicago club stages. Under the gentle guiding hand of producer and Alligator founder Bruce Iglauer, however, Robinson imbues these performances with plenty of heart and soul.
Robinson would record another pair of albums for Alligator during the late-1970s and early 1980s, and while both 1977's I Hear Some Blues Downstairs (which would earn the guitarist a Grammy nomination) and 1984's Nightflight each have their charms, Robinson would never again match the elegance and power of Somebody Loan Me A Dime. Fans of six-string maestros like B.B. King, Duke Robillard, or Ronnie Earl would love this stuff, and if you're unfamiliar with the underrated, often overlooked Fenton Robinson, look no further than Somebody Loan Me A Dime; this one comes highly recommended. (Alligator Records, released 1974)
