The Qobuz Ideal Discography

More than eight and a half hours of music! Bobby Gentry absolutely deserves such a generous celebration, even though her glory years only really lasted about a decade. Retiring in the early 1980s into total anonymity, this great voice of the 1960s and 1970s is presented here in a deluxe selection. Across 8 records, 177 tracks are brought together: her six studio albums for Capitol (Ode to Billie Joe from 1967, The Delta Sweete and Local Gentry from 1968, Touch ‘Em With Love from 1969, Fancy from 1970 and  Patchwork from 1971), the record she made with Glen Campbell in 1968 and over 70 unreleased tracks including alternative takes, demos, BBC live recordings and all kinds of rarities! Hidden behind the mystery of her premature retirement and the cult following which has only grown with time remain these songs. Bobbie Gentry was more than just a simple country, folk and pop singer like so many others of her generation. Only Bobby could’ve written hits like Mornin' Glory, Fancy, Okolona River Bottom Band, Chickasaw County Child and most famous of all, covered the world over, Ode to Billie Joe, the fascinating story of the suicide of the mysterious Billie Joe McAllister who leapt from Tallahatchie Bridge. In France, Joe Dassin would go on to put a French spin on the song: Billie Joe became Marie-Jeanne and the Tallahatchie Bridge became the bridge over the Garonne…There is class, freedom and striking sensuality in Bobbie Gentry's voice. There are also brilliant arrangements and an instrumentation that line up perfectly with the songs, from slightly kitschy lounge strings (but they're so cool) to a simple guitar that clings to the contours of her voice. Bobbie Gentry was never fully country, fully pop, fully soul or fully folk. She was Bobbie Gentry. Full stop. © Marc Zisman/Qobuz

A revelation upon its release, this album is now a collection of standards: "Illegal Smile," "Hello in There," "Sam Stone," "Donald and Lydia," and, of course, "Angel from Montgomery." Prine's music, a mixture of folk, rock, and country, is deceptively simple, like his pointed lyrics, and his easy vocal style adds a humorous edge that makes otherwise funny jokes downright hilarious. © William Ruhlmann /TiVo

Old-school blues, that from the 20s and 30s, is more than music. It’s a thing of magic and story-telling, in which tales are conjured up and you are left to fill in the grey areas. Here is  Charley Patton, less well-known than Robert Johnson, the star of vintage blues. And yet, without offending Bob, we can say the he is no less important. As his predecessor, he had released records in 1929 compared to 1936 for Robert Johnson. From the famous Dockery plantation in Mississippi, which produced as many bluesmen as it did cotton, Patton was the mentor of not only Robert Johnson but also John Lee Hooker, Son House, a young Howlin’ Wold and Pop Staples, founder of Staple Singers. His discography is vast and diverse like that of Robert Johnson and this first volume is an excellent starting point. With its trembling slide guitar, croaky vocals, primal but rock-solid and intense emotion, and a repertoire and style that seems to ail from an ancient time older than even the oldest blues. All his biggest hits are on here: Pony Blues, A Spoonful Blues, Mississippi Boweavil Blues, Screamin’ and Hollerin’ the Blues… Songs of a Delta bluesman, from the safety of the church and out on the road like a stray cat… Charlie Patton released his 78 tracks on Paramount, a label infamous for the bad technical quality of its productions. The sound on these tracks is therefore rather rugged but the magic that is evoked is pure and unharmed. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

It's little wonder why Drake felt frustrated at the lack of commercial success his music initially gathered, considering the help he had on his debut record. Besides fine production from Joe Boyd and assistance from folks like Fairport Convention's Richard Thompson and his unrelated bass counterpart from Pentangle, Danny Thompson, Drake also recruited school friend Robert Kirby to create most of the just-right string and wind arrangements. His own performance itself steered a careful balance between too-easy accessibility and maudlin self-reflection, combining the best of both worlds while avoiding the pitfalls on either side. The result was a fantastic debut appearance, and if the cult of Drake consistently reads more into his work than is perhaps deserved, Five Leaves Left is still a most successful effort. Having grown out of the amiable but derivative styles captured on the long-circulating series of bootleg home recordings, Drake imbues his tunes with just enough drama -- world-weariness in the vocals, carefully paced playing, and more -- to make it all work. His lyrics capture a subtle poetry of emotion, as on the pastoral semi-fantasia of "The Thoughts of Mary Jane," which his soft, articulate singing brings even more to the full. Sometimes he projects a little more clearly, as on the astonishing voice-and-strings combination "Way to Blue," while elsewhere he's not so clear, suggesting rather than outlining the mood. Understatement is the key to his songs and performances' general success, which makes the combination of his vocals and Rocky Dzidzornu's congas on "Three Hours" and the lovely "'Cello Song," to name two instances, so effective. Danny Thompson is the most regular side performer on the album, his bass work providing subtle heft while never standing in the way of the song -- kudos well deserved for Boyd's production as well. © Ned Raggett /TiVo

Junior Wells’ first album released in 1965, Hoodoo Man Blues is one of the pillars of Chicago blues. The kind of pillar that holds up the ceiling in a smoky club on the West Side, with a leather-clad pimp leaning up against it. It's like being at Theresa’s Lounge, the legendary club in Chicago where Junior Wells spent his evenings blowing into his harmonica with his guitarist and friend Buddy Guy. Junior Wells is one of the greats of the blues harmonica, to the point of having won a long contract in Muddy Waters' band, replacing Little Walter. But on his first album, he doesn't get out his CV nor show off his skills. He's content with playing as if he was in a club with his band. In other words, it's funky. Tight, sensual, tense. Junior Wells and his band of dancing blues experts never overdo it, each note is in its place. All the magic of this record lies in the interaction between the musicians, like in jazz. Junior Wells is not the type to demonstrate his technical skills as a harmonica player. But he still explodes here on a virtuosic cover of Chitlins Con Carne, a piece by jazz guitarist Kenny Burrell. The direct links between jazz and blues at the time are rare enough to deserve a mention. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz