Various Artists

Vee-Jay: The Definitive Collection

Shout Factory

originally published September 12, 2007

The contributions made by artists who recorded for the long-defunct Vee-Jay Records imprint have generally taken a back seat to those made by the roster of fellow influential Chicago label Chess Records. However, as exemplified by the four-disc box set Vee-Jay: The Definitive Collection, at one time Vee-Jay possessed a talent roster every bit as powerful and distinct as its more familiar competitor.

Vee-Jay was the first U.S. label to license the Beatles' recordings and, likely due to cost concerns, the Fab Four are about the only "name" Vee-Jay act that doesn't appear on the set. Spanning the label's 13-year run from 1953 to 1966, the 86-track collection pairs up-and-coming bluesmen with gospel veterans, street-corner doo-woppers with obscure funk pioneers, many of whom produced a litany of smash singles for the label.

The set's first disc focuses on the dapper, uptown brand of blues and R&B that inaugurated Vee-Jay during the early '50s with such suave sides as Jimmy Reed's "You Don't Have To Go" and The Dells' prom-night anthem "Oh, What a Night." As discs two and three progress, the output gets a shot in the arm as the performances and arrangements become looser, more uninhibited and more distinctive. Shakin' blues from John Lee Hooker ("Dimples," "Boom Boom"), Elmore James and Reed appear, as do cuts from soul shouters like Pee Wee Crayton ("The Telephone Is Ringing") and the rich Southern gospel of the Staple Singers and The Original 5 Blind Boys of Mississippi.

Few label retrospective box sets are assembled with the attention to individual style and diversity seen here. Also included is a heavy-stock book of rare photos, researched liner notes from music scholar Gerald Early and individual track/ recording notes. From well-known slices like Hooker's "Boom Boom" and Reed's "Big Boss Man" to lesser-heards like Joe Simon's exhilarating "Let's Do It Over" and Sheriff & The Revel's nonsense doo-wop anthem "Shambalor," it paints a broad and substantial portrait of the Chi-Town stomping grounds trod by a stable of future greats alongside just as many used-to-bes that are well worth remembering.

Michael Andrews

Waylon Jennings & The Waymore Blues Band

Never Say Die: The Complete Final Concert

RCA / Legacy

originally published September 12, 2007

Originally released in 2000 as an abridged single disc, Never Say Die was the final live release from legendary country outlaw Waylon Jennings, as well as one of Jennings' last public appearances. Recorded at Nashville's hallowed Ryman Auditorium, the show paired Jennings with a new cast of session players that he'd enlisted.

Now released as a resequenced two-CD-plus-DVD set, the complete Never Say Die unfortunately does little to add depth to the Jennings catalog. By the time it was recorded, much of Jennings' live repertoire was centered around covers and material penned by others. Guests like John Anderson, Montgomery Gentry, Travis Tritt and wife Jessi Colter join in along the way, providing such up moments as Jennings and Anderson's wily duet on "Waymore's Blues."

Still, especially now inflated to two discs, much of the rousing set ultimately falls flat. Whether it's the precision sheen of the Waymore Blues Band - no easy substitute for the classic grit of the steel guitar-guided Waylors - or the fact that Jennings was nearing the end of his run as a performer, the complete Never Say Die is spotty, and drags particularly during its final half.

That doesn't mean Waylon was phoning 'em all in, however. His inimitable voice commands the sultry "Shakin' The Blues" and, here, "I've Always Been Crazy" sounds more like an old hellraiser looking back and cackling, rather than a young buck thumbing his nose at everything. The set's DVD component breathes more life into the performances as it's tough to gloss over seeing Jennings command the old Opry stage from a center chair - looking tired and sitting down, but far from down for the count.

Michael Andrews

Sebadoh

The Freed Man: Expanded Edition

Domino

originally published September 12, 2007

The seminal Sebadoh's maiden voyage offers the skewered personalities of Lou Barlow and Eric Gaffney (third member Jason Lowenstein had yet to join) congealing, while tossing mental fragments and half-ideas against the wall to see what sticks. At 52 tracks (upped from the previous 32), the revamped The Freed Man chucks the 'Doh's homemade debut into the proverbial Cuisinart by reshuffling the track order, adding some new selections, deleting others and generally making a mess of the whole affair. But, those who dig deep enough beneath the minute-and-a-half shards of shrapnel will be justly compensated for their effort.

Freed Man was originally a slapdash cassette that sold sparsely; do-it-yourself is practically etched all over the thing. Somewhere along the way, a disheveled-but-enlightening band was formed. The deluxe Freed Man presents a greatly added-onto precursor of better things to come, as well as Sebadoh's gestational period, womb exit and afterbirth all wrapped into one.

Michael Andrews

Arthur Alexander

Lonely Just Like Me: The Final Chapter

Hacktone

originally published September 12, 2007

Late Alabama soulman-songwriter Arthur Alexander remains unknown to most, but his songs (from the Stones' version of "Go Home Girl" to the Beatles' "Soldier of Love") were the result of a perfect marriage between breakup-inspired pop and gospel-infused R&B. Alexander had long since retired from music, due to bad career management and even worse contractual/ financial obligations, when he was coaxed into recording 1993's Lonely Just Like Me, which ended up being the big man's final curtain call.

Alexander passed away shortly after the album's completion, but his last takes make for an understated and rewarding epitaph. Now amended with more than a half-dozen additional tracks, Lonely Just Like Me: The Final Chapter attempts to reintroduce Alexander's mercurial blend of heartache balladry and country soul to a new generation. The additional tracks include a performance/ interview taken from a '93 NPR broadcast that offers a rare chance to hear only a tastefully strummed acoustic guitar accompanying Alexander's tender, quavering voice able to melt the most frigid of hard hearts.

Michael Andrews