Doug Kershaw – Mama Kershaw’s Boy/Alive & Pickin’/Ragin’ Cajun/Flip, Flop & Fly: Album Review

By Seuras Og on 15th January 2025 • ( Leave a comment )

Re-release of the middle 4 releases from fiddle man Doug Kershaw, all together across 2 discs.

Release Date: 17th January 2025

Label: Morello (Cherry Red)

Format: CD

THE GREAT OTHER DOUG

More of a “mighta oughta” than a “coulda shoulda” in the annals of history, Kershaw is the great “other” Doug in the musics of the Southern U.S. Whereas Doug Sahm has remained a name at least familiar to the cognoscenti, perhaps buoyed by having a greater grasp of the musical palette, and an early death keeping him alive, Kershaw is now near forgotten, despite still plying his idiosyncratic furrow, at the age of 88. But, for a while, in the mid 1970’s, he stood on the cusp of a major breakthrough, if that then hoisted by a record label not quite sure how and why to place him, eventually spreading him across and into genres that diluted too far his focus and identity.

You know that raspy sawing style of fiddle play, where the strings feel stuck together, and produce a dense scrub of sound? Well, that is the Kershaw signature sound. Sure, not unique to him, and neither was he an early adopter, this being the traditional Cajun style, but there was then little exposure to that music, outside it’s particular silo of heartlands Louisiana. Arguably, the across the tracks sibling style, the more blues aligned zydeco, was better known, and where squeezebox took more prominence than fiddle.

A HISTORY LESSON

Kershaw hailed from deep in the Arcadian (say it quickly and you got cajun) territory, the local French variant was his sole language until the age of 8. A fiddle in his hands from the age of 5, it was a natural that he and his family would be active at musical get-togethers, with his first band being he and his two brothers, known as the Continental Playboys. This was 1948, when Doug, the middle of the 3, was 12!

Thereafter, he and the younger of the two brothers, Rusty, performed as a duo, Rusty and Doug, not without some success, becoming regulars on Louisiana Hayride and at the Grand Ol’ Opry during the 1950s. In 1958 each signed on with the army. Upon discharge, the duo picked up, notching up a slow burning hit with Doug’s Louisiana Man, now firmly established as a standard in the Cajun canon. Three long playing records came from the partnership before they went their separate ways.

SOLO…

On his own, Doug gradually made himself a name, helped by a TV appearance on the first ever instalment of the Johnny Cash Show. Soon after he was the support for Eric Clapton, in his initially low-key ‘comeback’ in/as Derek & the Dominos, revealing the player to a hitherto unaware rock and roll audience, who lapped up his exuberant style. A recording contract ensued, with Warner Brothers, and he was off. The four albums included here comprise his output between 1974 and 1977, which, if not his first, were the most successful of his still extant career.

Mama Kershaw’s Boy (1974)

…was actually his 8th album in 5 years, a blistering pace by anyone’s standards, and is a no-nonsense canter through a bluster of, largely, raucous hoe-downs. However, the opener, Nickel In My Pocket, is actually a medium slow waltz, so as to usher the listener in gently. Almost orthodox, it sounds almost too country, but, bear in mind, this is the same time as Emmylou Harris was riding high in her early solo career, the Byrds and the Burritos having made country cool to all the West Coast hipsters. His vocals are odd, with odd yelps and incursions into falsetto, but anything went in these heady days.

Juggling with his vocal timbre, it carries on, in a similar style, for Hi Lady, well constructed, and with enough background guitars and steel to appease the averse. The fiddle is almost restrained. The slow warble of Lady Ann suggests an unsurprising familiarity with Bob Dylan’s Nashville Skyline, 5 years before. The prominent dobro is also played by Kershaw.

The rest of the album does all become a little samey, which is great if you like that sort of thing, less if you seek a meaning to it all. The short instrumental Cajun Grass is a highpoint, the electric rhythm section conducive to the flailing acoustica, and certainly warrants ramping your speakers to the max, kicking out the cobwebs for the rousing I Just Remember Just Enough, which even forgives the bizarre vocal, it now settling in, like a taste for pickled walnuts or swedish salty licorice.

Swamp Dance has the addition of accordion, Kershaw as well, which is sufficient to give another flavour, reviving the project from repetition. Sung partly in French, it also allows some brushing up of any residual linguistic skills you may have dormant. With Colorado a country rocker to give further variation, the final two tracks are more throwaway yee-haws that nonetheless please an undiscerning ear. (Like mine.) See if you can guess what Hippy Ti Yo might be a close relative to?

Alive & Pickin’ (1975)

Not got it yet? Handily Alive & Pickin’ kicks off with Diggy Liggy Lo, to give an answer. This song, originally by Terry Clement in 1953, had been a second big country smash for Rusty & Doug, in the wake of Louisiana Man, so might feature, by default, as one of Doug’s ‘greatest hits’. With a spoken introduction to an already hyped up audience, the rendition is energetic and well received, a promising start. A sprawling Battle Of New Orleans threatens to lose the momentum, but I guess you had to be there, leaving a medley of Orange Blossom Special with You Are My Sunshine to restore balance. Almost as dramatic as the Flying Burrito Brothers on Last of the Red Hot Burritos, it is a chaotic runaway train that, frequently, threatens to derail, ahead finding the required traction. Surely a set closer, it seems odd this early on.

HAPPY CLAPPY CONTRAST

Contrast is offered by a happy clappy ballad, Natural Man, where the steel of Bobbe Seymour grabs the greatest attention. Then, swapping to accordion, the titular Alive & Pickin’ is another audience pleaser. The piano of Willie Rainsford is prominent in each of these, that would benefit, perhaps, from a little more definition. Little leaps much out over the second half of the set, it dragging as the amount of audience participation gets milked ever more. To be fair, this is a problem of live records, as the desired atmosphere is sought, sometimes impossible at home, sober and sensible.

Dixie Creole fires up with a bit of maritime hornpipe, unexpectedly, before careering off into a military 2 step. I can’t but admire the chutzpah, and suddenly I’m on board again. So, a good time to wheel out Louisiana Man, in a ragged twangfest fashion. An extended and accelerated instrumental coda gives each the additional players a brief turn and is the better for it, before, I guess, the encore, Bill Monroe’s Uncle Pen, where Kershaw takes scraping to an almost industrial extreme. An album really for completists or as a souvenir of attending a Kershaw show.

Ragin’ Cajun (1976)

…came about by dint the realisation that the early crossover promised probably wasn’t quite as strong as once hoped for. Mama Kershaw’s Boy had proven a hit, attaining #14 on the Billboard chart, with the live album reaching only 32, which, if still respectable, wasn’t a pointer in the right direction for someone already 9 albums into their contract, it only the 2nd to chart, and now moving back the wrong way. So money was spent, bringing in some hardcore session men, Jim Gordon, Jerry Scheff and Jaydee Maness, for drums, bass and steel.

It starts promisingly enough, with It Takes All Day (To Get Over Night), in that the sound is much tighter, with space for each participant to shine. The seasoned sessioneers then step away, that being their only paycheck, but the quality continues into a number of decent country rockers, with a sly dial down, thus, in the cajun quota. I’m Not Strong Enough has some tidy accordion and fiddle, mind, with Mamou Twostep as good an expression of the medium yet, across all the albums thus far. House Husband and Bayou Girl are conventional ranch stash, despite the lyrical leanings of the latter, and some muted scrubbing. Another feature is the extensive backing chorus of vocals, which apply a glosssy and near gospel lustre to this record. Whether to take away attention from Kershaw’s tonsils, I don’t know, which they don’t, but effective anyway.

A STRONG RECORDING

As it flowed forward, this record really caught itself under my skin, feeling it to be a far more realised package, which, if constraining his wilder swampland excesses, is actually all the better for it, and fits neatly alongside the output of the other Doug. I’m Just A Nobody and Sweetest Man Around skip lightly on the ear, ahead a final brief burst of cajunesque, which, unlike Mamou Twostep, is actually too polite, as is the pretty thin Pamela Marie. But perhaps the finest track, I’d Live Anywhere, then pops up, one track before the end, as good as anything Gram done. The closer, Blow Your Horn, is lovely, but seems from the wrong sessions altogether, pointing in an altogether different direction, back toward the folk(s)y style of Peter, Paul and Mary.

Nonetheless, this is a strong recording, irrespective the controls clearly being applied to Kershaw’s freedom of expression. Sadly it only made a #44.

Flip, Flop & Fly (1977)

And if the studio influence was apparent for that album, by Flip, Flop & Fly, it was positively constrictive. Again, a whole host of session men, and women, drawn in, at the expense of any his residual and road crew, and, of the 11 tracks, only 3 were Kershaw originals, many the others being rock and roll standards, if with a New Orleans twist. This is exemplified by Rag Mama Rag, which kicks things off. It isn’t a bad version, but adds nothing to any of the many existing versions out there, the horns and tinkling piano little to acquaint with Kershaw’s pre-existing. even if it is Dr John playing the latter. Adding insult to injury, Louisiana Blues, which may sound to be cajun derived isn’t even by Kershaw, coming instead from Jo-El Sonnier, as wel as being more blues than Louisiana.

So it continues, perfectly satisfactory, if anonymous versions of the title track, I’m Walkin’ and even a bizarre version of I’m A Loser, the Lennon-McCartney one. Swathes of brass, steel, keyboards and guitar pad them all out into superior bar band fare, with also the same hefty backdrop of vocal augmentation, with Bonnie Bramlett one of the guilty. Of the 3 Kershaw compositions, Twenty-Three is a country fiddle stomp of more accelerator than clutch, and You Won’t Let Me is a the same country weepie from the live set, in actually a far better conceived construct of rather too many layers.

Kershaw’s Twostep is the broadest nod to his forte, if clearly a reprise of his signature riff, possibly confirming also a lack of original ideas left in his larder. Roly Poly is a tremendous western swinger, with walking bass, steel and piano and, bar the vocals and fiddle, nothing to do with Kershaw at all, or his usual stamping grounds. Which sort of sums up the LP as a whole. It reached #47. None of his later records made the chart at all.

ALREADY A FAN? NEED TO HEAR MORE?

If you want or need to hear more of Kershaw, or are already a fan and don’t already have these, this is for you. It represents quite a bargain, 4 for the price of 1, but if less is more, this may prove too much. But, with the first two components never before available on CD, maybe this is the purpose of the exercise. Inclusive only of the released material, with no “new” live tracks or studio-outtakes, it takes up much less space than the originals, Which for space light eclecticists like me is as good enough a reason as any.

Here’s a 1990 Diggy Diggy Lo. One of the comments below, on the youtube site, sums best him up: “so talented at playing this very specific, Louisiana regional music.”