Swamp blues great Kenny Neal honors legacy

July 14, 2017 12:00 am • Last Updated: July 15, 2017 11:20 am

By Rick Koster
Day Arts/Features writer

Kenny Neal

There's no shortage of artists from all walks of life who've been bewitched by the idea and sound of "the blues" — and undertaken musical journeys to explore and try to master at least some aspect of a broadly defined art form. And why not? As pure passion and/or scholarship, it's a reasonable and perhaps even noble exercise.

Then there are those who, as the cliché goes, are born to play the blues. And Baton Rouge guitarist/singer/songwriter Kenny Neal is a musician so authentically, well, "bluesy," that he probably bleeds I-IV-V chord progressions.

It's not just that he's a member of the Neal family, who are to the fertile Baton Rouge scene what the Nevilles or Marsalises are to New Orleans funk and jazz. Yes, his late father Raful Neal, a harmonica virtuoso, was a pioneer of the city's distinct musical style — called "swamp blues" — and owned Neal's Restaurant & Lounge, a sadly-gone spot that served as Ground Zero for the swamp blues scene. Several of Kenny's siblings are or were professional musicians, and he grew up surrounded by dad's friends/colleagues — blues giants such as Slim Harpo, Buddy Guy, Tabby Thomas, and Lazy Lester. In such an environment, it's not surprising that young Neal first performed onstage at the age of 6 and says he knew, almost before he could articulate it, that the music would be his life.

Now 59, Neal, who plays a free show Monday with his band in Mystic River Park as part of the Blue Monday concert series, is assured and fluid in his guitar mastery, and he sings with emotive power and grace. Too, his visionary take on swamp blues is spangled with flourishes of R&B, funk and rock. He's been nominated for multiple Grammys and won awards from every major blues society, and has released 16 albums for labels like Alligator, Telarc and Cleopatra. Anyone not familiar with his art should definitely hear albums like "Big News From Baton Rouge," "Bayou Blood," "Hoodoo Moon," "Let Life Flow" and last year's "Bloodline."

At the core of all this, of course, are Neal's songs, which are heartfelt and reflect the human condition at its most joyous and at the depths of sorrow. In 2004-5, for example, he lost both father to bone cancer and brother Ronnie (a singer) to hepatitis, and his sister Jackie — also a vocalist — was murdered in a domestic violence incident. Shortly thereafter, Neal himself was diagnosed with hepatitis C and, after 58 weeks of treatment, he emerged stronger and committed to health and has since served as a spokesman on behalf of hepatitis awareness.

Then, two weeks ago, as Neal was preparing for a European tour, another brother, Noel, who played bass for the James Cotton Blues Band, died of a heart attack. "I buried him on Monday and flew to France on Tuesday, which was not easy at all," Neal says in an email interview conducted earlier this week.

Loss, grief, resilience and, ultimately, an appreciation of life's gifts are all paramount in the blues and in Neal's work, and he's always grateful for the emotional and artistic possibilities of his art. Below are some of Neal's reflections. They've been edited for space.

Q. As you get older and deal with loss and the increasingly rapid passage of time, have you found that your appreciation of the power of the blues has increased and, if so, in what ways?

A. It has increased, and it does so by giving me a chance to express myself — and not just for me but also for my fans when they hear my songs. I think they relate to what I write about and maybe it helps them understand that everybody has their ups and downs in life. My songs help me get through it. (After Noel's death), that first night of the tour was a little hard. But as I started performing more shows and listened to the lyrics I was singing, I started to feel a little better. Music is healing.

Q. While the best way for the curious to understand what sound qualifies as swamp blues is probably to listen to it, how would you describe it?

A. What makes Baton Rouge blues different is (location). From north Baton Rouge, you can be in Natchez, Mississippi, in an hour. A lot of their musicians brought that Delta style to Baton Rouge. From south Baton Rouge, you're an hour and fifteen minutes from New Orleans and that city's jazz and funk. Then you leave west Baton Rouge and in less than an hour you're in Lafayette — with the Cajun French people and their music. You get all those styles together and that makes up our swamp blues.

Q. For a lot of Americans, blues was sort of a forgotten art form until Stevie Ray Vaughan came along. With some justification, he's credited in spearheading a resurgence. But for those of us who grew up in the South, it seems like there was always a strong blues presence. Did you feel that way? Now, traveling the world, do you feel a sort of ambassador for the blues?

A. I never felt like the blues was in danger, and I knew people all around the country, especially in the South, always had a passion for the blues. Maybe (venues and record labels) weren't hiring blues artists as much when I was growing up, but there was always a club or a juke joint somewhere to go and play blues. And from my first album, "Big News from Baton Rouge," I felt like an ambassador for the blues and especially swamp blues.

Q. I was fortunate enough to eat at Neal's Restaurant & Lounge, and I saw your father sit in with your sister Jackie during her set. Amazing stuff, and the meal I ate, smothered potatoes with sausage and shrimp, was an all-timer. You were there all the time. It must have been like growing up in the blues version of Disneyland, only with better food.

A. I have a lot of fond memories. That's where we would all come together to eat and play music — and I can't leave drinking out, either. It was like everyone in the surrounding area wanted to join in and be part of the Neal family, and I hope what we're doing now keeps that spirit alive today.