It's become something of a running joke among blues musicians - No more Mustang Sally! I've even heard one bandleader offer a patron five dollars just to retract his request.

Surely the statute of limitations has run out on many another blues tune as well; songs, for instance, like Sonny Boy's Help Me, Hoochie Coochie Man, The Thrill Is Gone, or Albert King's Crosscut Saw. Hasn't Mojo been done to death, and does the world really need another version of either Caldonia or Jimmy Reed's Baby What You Want Me To Do? Isn't the thrill long gone indeed from these rather overworked chestnuts?

I guess it depends on which end of the blues spectrum one sits. Yes, any blues musician's eventually going to get tired of the classics. But I'd counter that it's simply a hazard of the job, and as a musician one must remember it's the public who pays for, and therefore, calls the tune.

As for fans… well, anyone who's been one for any number of years has probably heard most of these songs a few more times than strictly necessary. But what about the, shall we say, more casual fan, the type who only hears blues on occasion 'cause they sure don't play it on the radio? These are standards, after all, touchstones of the genre, utterly essential for an understanding of what the blues is all about. In short, if you haven't heard these songs - and add to the list above, please, the likes of My Babe, Ain't Nobody's Business, and Kansas City - you simply haven't completed - no, make that haven't even started - your blues education.

But why would the Shuffledogs, all of whom have been around long enough to qualify as veterans, choose to record a live set with only one original, resorting exclusively to these standards for the balance of the playlist?

First, without a distribution deal, I'd guess this collection's largely targeted to patrons present at the band's shows. I'd also bet it flies off the stage - these guys are very, very good, and frankly I'd be surprised if everyone present didn't take one home as a souvenir. And again, I'd emphasize that repertoire isn't entirely up to the musicians; ignore audience expectation and see how many gigs you get!

The band is absolutely top notch. Driven by drummer Eric Clipsham, powered by the triple-guitar attack of Larry Goodhand, Jeff Peacock, and vocalist Derrick Peart, it's all held together with impeccable bass work by Bill Lyons. Goodhand (of whom I've more than once heard other players refer to in hushed, reverential tones) is nothing short of magnificent, whether contributing moody, minor key support or clean, piercing leads full of both bravado and invention. Peart's powerful enough that one wonders whether a microphone was used at all, yet he's also possessed of a superior sense of phrasing; in short, he's singer's singer, in an age when vocals are all too often treated as a necessary but vaguely annoying afterthought. And together Clipsham and Lyons are as tight as a pop star's pants.

The sound - the disc was recorded at Port Perry, Ontario's Antrim House, a tiny but always lively hotspot to the Northeast of Toronto - is incredible, with an almost palpable depth that creates the audio illusion of a real band between your speakers. (If anything's missing, it's the ambience of what must surely have been a wildly appreciative audience; the playing's so impeccable, one can almost forget it's a live session).

So who'd buy this disc? Well, first off, patrons of any club at which the Shuffledogs appear. Newbies too. In fact, anyone whose collection isn't complete would find Shuffledoggin' fills any gaps quite nicely. Matter of fact, as a blues greatest hits package this is an utterly superb collection.

As for hard-core blues fans, think you've heard it all too many times? Give Shuffledoggin' a listen. This, folks, is what it's supposed to sound like. This is why you fell in love with the blues in the first place.

Yes, it's familiar. But it's also excellent.

Recommended!

Copyright 2003. Review by John Taylor