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Ronnie Earl has to be on any short list of greatest blues guitarists working today. Since ending an eight-year tenure with Roomful of Blues in the 1980s, his leadership of the frequently-shifting Ronnie Earl and the Broadcasters has given him ample opportunity to display his devotion to traditional blues styles and his ability to create something new and entirely his own. Since 1993, Earl has played almost exclusively without a vocalist, putting the focus of his albums and performances almost entirely on his own guitar playing.

His chops and imagination are more than enough to live up to such near-constant exposure.

The current line-up of Broadcasters has been together since 2003 and Spread the Love is the 6th album to include Dave Limina on piano and Hammond organ, Jim Mouradian on bass, and Lorne Entress on drums. It almost perfectly divides itself in half, with the first seven songs being primarily spiritual in nature, and the second seven being more down-to-earth blues. Earl has long expressed love for both body and soul in his music; this album just calls more direct attention to these twin poles than most.

Ronnie Earl & the Broadcasters' Spread The Love

After opening with “Backstroke,” a rousing houserocker written by Albert Collins, Earl shifts into a languorously delicate cry of anguish and pain with “Blues for Doctor Donna.” Accompanied only by a quietly moving bass, Earl plays either a very toned-down electric or an acoustic guitar – his technical skills are so great that repeated listenings won’t let me make up my mind as to which – and shows off a veritable catalogue of guitar tricks.

He bends strings, he thumps chords, he strums hard, he picks soft, he plays long lean notes and gentle cascades of short ones. Few can touch Earl’s mastery of dynamics, and he puts this to effective use here, as he opens up his inner feelings of anguish tinged with hope and even a hint of joy.

Hope and joy take over after a quick and enjoyable side-trip to cover jazz great Kenny Burrell’s “Chitlins Con Carne.” The next four songs are the blues equivalents of Handel’s Messiah or Bach’s Mass in B Minor. “Cristo Redentor” (originally done by Duke Pearson with angelic vocals which didn’t come close to revealing the depth Earl finds here) and “Miracle” are particularly capable of opening the heavens. The former is delicately phrased, with a connection between Earl’s fingers and his spiritual nature which is very moving. The latter recalls the work of Roy Buchanan, with an exquisite tone enabling each note to ring out across the universe, each moment to connect across time and space. And when the whole band explodes with joy and wonder, the real meaning of awesome takes effect, which is to say that it inspires an overwhelming feeling of reverence.

Side Two

“Happy” and “Patience,” heard in between those two tunes, live up to their titles. “Happy” is a delightful Latin-tinged romp with a neat cry of joy in Earl’s guitar. “Patience,” written by drummer Entress, is a gentle melody in no hurry to traverse its lovely chord changes, as Earl drops in chains of notes dancing lightly across the organ. But so carefully as to be hardly noticed, the band works up to a delirious climax of beauty and excitement before slowing back down to the way it began, implying that all which goes around comes around again.

In the olden days, we would be flipping the record over for side two at this point (though LPs couldn’t actually hold all the music on this album). It starts with another warm-up, a wonderful tribute to Otis Spann written by Limina called “Spann’s Groove.” Earl supports Limina for most of this cut, then displays an absolute mastery of the Chicago blues idiom with three choruses of effortlessly tossed off ideas. The real meat of the second half comes in the next three cuts. “Skyman,” at 8:19 the longest cut on the album, is a gorgeous jazzy ballad, clearly a love song to somebody very important to Earl. Nobody has a lighter, more sensual touch on guitar than Earl. You can hear him caressing his lover as he caresses the notes on his guitar. Limina provides a lovely little solo, too, but the difference is that it feels like he’s touching the heart of a lover; Earl’s playing feels like he’s touching skin.

Blues For Slim

Things get more explicit in a hurry with “Blues For Slim” and “Tommy’s Midnight Blues.” The first, a Magic Slim tribute, features a nasty, sexually-charged guitar tone which Earl changes twice as the song goes on as if he’s changing positions with a partner. Over a rigorously loping beat, Earl turns his guitar into a full-body massager, working a variety of invigorating touches. The next song starts off seductive, with Earl once again quietly caressing the skin/strings of a lover.

He is in control here, letting us feel every note, building slowly and passionately up to something bolder, and much louder. The band shifts rhythmic gears, slowing down as Earl’s guitar screams with pleasure, hammering furiously then slithering explosive runs across the body/fretboard. “Eleventh Step to Heaven” is a cold shower of ethereal fingerpicking with a wisp of a melody over a quietly thumping bass, bringing us back towards a hint of spiritual feeling. “Ethan’s Song” is a jazzy shuffle, a dance of post-coital discussion, perhaps? The album ends with a beautiful acoustic finger-picking number, “Blues For Bill,” and we’re feeling completely satiated and ready to contemplate the meaning of life again.

Steve's Bottom Line

Spread the Love is one of the most enjoyable records to appear this year. In some ways, it’s to be expected from a man who has such an ability to combine all the blues (and some jazz and soul) which has come before with his own musical imagination. Ronnie Earl has never phoned it in yet. He remains one of the most exhilarating figures in modern blues. (Stony Plain Records, released August 24, 2010)

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