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Keb' Mo': Keb' Mo'

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Epic Records
Released: 1994.06.07
Time:
 43:54
Category: Blues
Producer(s): John Porter
Rating: *********. (9/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.kebmo.net
Appears with:
Purchase date: 2001.12.04
Price in €: 9,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Every Morning (K.Moore) - 3:00
[2] Tell Everybody I Know (K.Moore) - 3:10
[3] Love Blues (K.Moore/E.Powell) - 3:02
[4] Victims of Comfort (K.Timber/K.Moore) - 3:21
[5] Angelina (G.Garper/K.Moore) - 3:47
[6] Anybody Seen My Girl (K.Moore) - 2:56
[7] She Just Wants to Dance (G.Graper/K.Moore) - 3:29
[8] Am I Wrong (K.Moore) - 2:19
[9] Come on in My Kitchen (R.Johnson) - 4:09
[10] Dirty, Low Down and Bad (K.Moore) - 3:08
[11] Don't Try to Explain (K.Moore) - 3:58
[12] Kindhearted Woman Blues (R.Johnson) - 3:29
[13] City Boy (K.Moore) - 4:06

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


KEVIN "Keb' Mo'" MOORE - Banjo, Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals

TOMMY EYRE - Keyboards
JAMES "Hutch" HUTCHINSON - Bass
LAVAL BELLE - Drums
QUENTIN DENNARD - Drums on [5]
TONY DRAUNAGEL - Percussion on [5]

JOE MCGRATH - Recording Engineer, Mixing
RICH VELTROP - Second Engineer
JOHN STROTHER - Engineer
ROSE LANDAUR - Assisting Engineer
VLADO MELLER - Mastering
FRANKY OCKENFELST - Photography
MARK BURDETT - Art Direction
JOHN BONCIMINO - Management
JEANIE TOWSEND - Grooming
BETH GOODMAN - Stylist

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


1994 CD OKeh/550/Epic EK 057863
1994 CS OKeh/550/Epic EK 057863
1994 CD OKeh/550/Epic 472173



Keb' Mo's self-titled debut is an edgy, ambitious collection of gritty country blues. Keb' Mo' pushes into new directions, trying to incorporate some of the sensibilites of the slacker revolution without losing touch of the tradition that makes the blues the breathing, vital art form it is. His attempts aren't always successful, but his gutsy guitar playing and impassioned vocals, as well as his surprisingly accomplished songwriting, make Keb' Mo' a debut to cherish.

Thom Owens, All-Music Guide, © 1992 - 2001 AEC One Stop Group, Inc.



Every few years, an acoustic guitar player decides he wants to be the next Robert Johnson and endears himself to the blues world--Rory Block, John Hammond Jr., and Taj Mahal have crossed this road in the past. Veteran backup guitarist Kevin "Keb' Mo'" Moore has the freshest approach to pulling it off, turning Johnson's devil-obsessed classics "Come on in My Kitchen" and "Kindhearted Woman Blues" into friendly folk music on this 1994 debut. Unlike many of the great bluesmen, the personable Moore doesn't aspire to be evil or even rebellious; he writes terrific songs (most notably the opening "Every Morning" and "Dirty Low Down and Bad") and performs them with talent and charisma.

Steve Knopper, Amazon.com



Alle paar Jahre entschließt sich ein Akustikgitarrist, der neue Robert Johnson zu werden und macht sich in der Blueswelt Liebkind -- Rory Block, John Hammond Jr. und Taj Mahal standen bereits an dieser Kreuzung. Diesmal geht der altgediente Studiogitarrist Kevin "Keb' Mo" Moore frisch ans Werk und verwandelt auf seinem 1994er Debüt Johnsons teufelsbesessene Klassiker "Come On In My Kitchen" und "Kindhearted Woman Blues" in freundlichen Folk. Im Gegensatz zu vielen großen Bluesmännern strebt der sympathische Moore nicht nach einem bösen oder wenigstens rebellischen Nimbus. Er schreibt tolle Songs (höchst bemerkenswert der Opener "Every Morning" und "Dirty Low Down And Bad") und trägt sie mit Talent und Charisma vor.

Steve Knopper, Amazon.de



Don't let the packaging, label (the recently reactivated, legendary OKeh imprint) and Robert Johnson covers fool you: Keb'Mo' is not a hard line walkin' blues revivalist or traditionalist. Keb'Mo' wisely realizes that, in 1 994, anyone (especially if he's under 60) who pretends to have grown up in a blues vacuum, impervious to other, more contemporary influences, is not only sadly misled, but will most likely make music that won't ring true, bogged down in awkward kowtowing towards the greats. Instead, Keb'Mo' (a k a Kevin Moore) takes his loving reference for country-blues and formidable talents on acoustic and slide guitar, and combines `em with strains of folk, pop and soul. "Angelina" and "She Just Wants To Dance" are bouncing soul-pop, "Victims Of Comfort" is a folk song, "Anybody Seen My Girl" oddly recalls Bob Dylan's more tender moments, and "Don't Try To Explain" (probably the LP's most satisfying moment), a plaintive soul ditty with organ placed high in the mix, wouldn't sound out of place on a Percy Sledge record.

Steve McGuir - Aug 15, 1994
CMJ New Music Report Issue: 391 © 1978-1999 College Media Inc. All rights reserved.



Someone was obviously paying attention in 1990 when the Robert Johnson box set began to gallop up the charts on its way toward more than 500,000 sales. Bonnie Raitt's breakthrough the year before didn't hurt the cause of acoustic blues, either.
Both of which explain why Keb' Mo' finds himself on the newly revived OKeh Records, which Epic hopes to make an eclectic blues label. A Los Angeles studio veteran, guitarist Kevin Moore was one of the last signings of the disco era to Casablanca Records, where he released one album. Then in 1990, Moore started listening to Robert Johnson. What he heard was a revelation that brought new meaning to his life and music. So Moore started playing acoustic guitar and learning country-blues styles.
There are two Johnson tunes on Keb' Mo' (slang for Kevin Moore): a straightforward guitar-vocal version of "Kindhearted Woman Blues" and a funked-up "Come On in My Kitchen." The remaining 11 songs are all written or co-written by Moore. Five feature solo guitar. "Every Morning" includes an instrumental break that's 40 seconds of slide heaven. But all here is not Delta blues. "Victims of Comfort" might have sprung from the hands of former Jefferson Airplane guitarist Jorma Kaukonen.
When the band joins in, it's not to upstage the guitars. Drummer Quentin Dennard provides a shuffle to "Angelina." James "Hutch" Hutchinson, from Bonnie Raitt's group, contributes his oompah bass. Tommy Eyre's keyboards provide shading, except on "She Just Wants to Dance," where he rocks like Johnnie Johnson. Keb' switches among acoustic guitar, banjo and National steel and even lays down an electric solo with fat, round tones on the churchy "Don't Try to Explain." And with John Porter, whose credits include Buddy Guy's Damn Right, I've Got the Blues, producing, it all sounds seamless.

ANDY LYMAN - RS 697
© Copyright 2001 RollingStone.com
 

 L y r i c s


EVERY MORNING

Every mornin', every evenin', every day I, I think of you
The way you love me, through and through

When I'm with you, it feels like heaven
You're an angel, holdin' me
Your sweet, sweet lovin', it sets me free

And in my wildest, imagination,
I could never, imagine you
Lovin' me as much as, as I do love you

And it may be winter, it may be fall
I might have plenty, or nothin' at all
But baby I'll be there, whenever you call, ever you call

'Cause every mornin', and every evenin', every day I, I think of you
The way you love me, through and through
The way you love me, through and through


TELL EVERYBODY I KNOW

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LOVE BLUES

I love the way you love me and I love the way you comb your hair
I love the way you love me, baby, love the way you comb your hair
If it would left up to me, babe, you would never .....

Hey, sweet mama, baby, don't you go too far
Hey, sweet mama, baby, don't you go too far
I wanna know every minute who you're with and where you are

I love you, baby, so please don't you leave me here all alone
I can't stand it, baby, when you leave me here all alone
So whenever you decide to go, baby, just don't stay gone too long

I love you, baby, I just can't leave you alone
You know, I love you, baby, and I just can't leave you alone
I love you baby just like a dog loves a bone

I'm gonna wrap my arms around you and squeeze you till I cry
I'm gonna wrap my arms around you, squeeze you till I cry (yes, I am)
Gonna keep on loving you, baby, till the day I die

(It's gonna be a long time)


VICTIMS OF COMFORT

No rocket's gonna fly that high
There's no escaping the enemy he's you and I
We poison up our water, we're chokin' on the air
Last stop before it gets too late or is it already too late?
Is it already too late
For the victims of comfort?
Got no one else to blame
We're just the victims of comfort
We cannot soothe the pain

And it's a technological merry-go-round
Dangerous solutions buried under the ground
And everyone likes a party
But no-one wants to clean
Well I'd like to see a change somehow and I believe we're busy right now
Just a little busy right now
I am just a victim of comfort
I got no one else to blame
I'm just a victim of comfort
Cryin' shame

Boy what have we got to lose? Everything
Yes and what do we stand to gain? Everything, so let's
Try together before we have to cry together
It's too soon to die together
I'm just a victim of comfort
Got no one else to blame
I'm just a victim of comfort
Got to soothe the pain
Be the victims of comfort
Got no one else to blame
I am just a victim of comfort
Cryin' shame


ANGELINA

Angelina, baby, won't you please come home
Angelina, baby, won't you please come home
You know my heart is aching and all my dreams have gone

Well, now my bed is empty, my feets and my hands are cold
You know my bed is empty, my feets and my hands are cold
Come on home, Angelina, my love for you will never grow old

Well now I've tried to love you with diamonds and pearls
But all that did was tear us apart
And I've tried to give you everything in the world
When all you really wanted - to wound my heart, oh-ho

Angelina, baby, won't you please come home
Oh, Angelina, baby, won't you please come home
You know my heart is aching and all my dreams have gone

Well I've tried to love you with diamonds and pearls
But all that did was tear us apart
And I've tried to give you everything in the world
When all you really wanted - to wound my heart, my heart

Angelina, baby, baby, won't you please come home
Well, sweet Angelina, baby, won't you please come home
You know my heart is aching and all my dreams have gone

(That's right, baby)

You know my heart is aching and all my dreams have gone


ANYBODY SEEN MY GIRL

None of my business, getting all of my concern
Tried to put out the fire, but the flame still burns
And as she pleases she comes and goes
She's got the wind in her hair
She never ceases to hurt me so

Does she really care?
Is she ever coming home?
Is she ever gonna phone?
Another night alone

Has anybody seen my girl?
Has anybody seen my woman?
California, Tennessee
Send my baby home to me

Where am I going, oh what am I gonna do?
I know I'm not crazy, I'm just hooked on you
So go on and use me endlessly
Could you let me know
When you need me hold me close
And baby don't let go
Are you ever coming home?
Are you ever gonna phone?
Another night alone

Has anybody seen my girl?
Has anybody seen my woman?
California, Tennessee
Send my baby home to me

Has anybody seen my girl?
Has anybody seen my woman?
California, Tennessee
Send my baby home to me


SHE JUST WANTS TO DANCE

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AM I WRONG

Am I wrong, fallin' in love with you,
tell me am I wrong, well, fallin' in love with you
While your other man was out there,
cheatin' and lyin', steppin' all over you

Uh, sweet thing
Tell me am I wrong, holdin' on to you so tight,
Tell me, tell me, am I wrong, holdin' on to you so tight
If your other man come to claim you,
he'd better be ready, ready for a long long fight

Well I gotta be strong, well I know you're dependin' on me
You know I gotta be strong, I know you're dependin' on me
To give you all of my attention,
all of my time, and all of the love you need

Oh, tell me, am I wrong tryin' to hold on to you
Tell me am I wrong, tryin' to hold on to you
I just wanna make a home for you baby,
and all of your children too

Tell me am I wrong, fallin' in love with you
Gotta tell me am I wrong, fallin' in love with you
While your other man was out there,
cheatin' and lyin', steppin' all over you
While your other man was out there,
cheatin' and lyin', steppin' all over you


DIRTY, LOW DOWN AND BAD

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DON'T TRY TO EXPLAIN

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KINDHEARTED WOMAN BLUES

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CITY BOY

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 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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