New Orleans R&B might be a close second, and you can’t deny the lasting, global impact of jazz greats like Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk and Sonny Rollins. But think of that strange cultural looping effect that took place in the ‘60s as the Beatles and the Stones co-opted Chess artists like Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf and then taught us poor, misguided Americans a thing or two about our own musical heritage (and don’t forget Led Zeppelin’s ’69 cover of Sonny Boy Williamson’s Bring It On Home). Throw James Brown into the mix and it’s the basis for virtually everything we listen to today – unless you’re partial to dead German composers or Kenny Chesney.

Alright, it’s not quite that simple… but pretty damn close in my book. And I started developing this fairly narrow wordview at an early age, when I first came across an odd-looking album stashed over at my sister’s house – a two-record set of Little Walter’s “greatest hits.” Walter’s wailing harp shook me to the core: Roller Coaster …and I quickly decided to dive a little deeper into the Chess catalog.

Of course that led me to Muddy and Wolf, and I’ve been a lost cause ever since. You can have your techno trash and indie troubadours… I need something a little closer to the truth – or at least the version documented by Leonard and Phil Chess at 2120 South Michigan Ave., Chicago.

Given the power and majesty of Little Walter’s amplified sound, I initially didn’t take to the more countrified, acoustic harmonica of Sonny Boy Williamson II. But I used a well-paying gig in Columbus as an opportunity to buy a 4-CD overview of Sonny Boy’s Chess years (including some interesting outtakes, which we’ll cover shortly). And I was quickly hooked on the many pleasures of the Sonny Boy songbook.

Let’s start with the voice. Like every other facet of the man and his music, there’s nothing else quite like it in the world of blues. It’s a deep, soulful, almost purring sound – somewhere between a croon and a moan. And when he throws in that funky vibrato… man, I’m gone. I’m always floored when that voice sneaks up on me (which is pretty rare, since his songs are seldom licensed for commercial use and he doesn’t even get much play on blues radio shows). Sonny Boy never got his due as a singer… Bring It On Home

Then there’s the harmonica. He was a masterful player who used a deceptively simple, unadorned approach to convey a whole lot of emotion. Little Walter may have taught many of his followers how to rock a Fender with a cheap PA mic, but Sonny Boy’s the guy you want to sound like when the plugs are all pulled and the lights are low. Like hearing a grown man cry, which I can assure you is a very good thing. You Killing Me (On My Feet)

Sonny Boy and Robert Lockwood Jr.

Then there’s the supporting cast. During the Chess years, Leonard consistently surrounded Sonny Boy with the best players in Chicago. Otis Spann on piano. Willie Dixon on bass. Fred Below and Odie Payne on drums. And what phenomenal guitar players: Jimmy Rogers, Luther Tucker, Buddy Guy, Matt “Guitar” Murphy… and Sonny Boy’s secret weapon, the great and underrated Robert Lockwood Jr. I had the pleasure of seeing Lockwood play many times in Cleveland, where he lived for nearly five decades. But it took me a while to find out about his essential contributions to Sonny Boy’s Chess recordings. Lockwood could swing with sting, playing with a jazzy sophistication that belied some serious (and hard-earned) blues chops. I can’t imagine a more sympathetic accompanist to his quirky frontman (this one also features some fine playing by Spann). Cross My Heart

Let’s not forget the songs… so many blues classics, like the next one. “When I walk, walk with me. When I talk, you talk to me. Oh baby… I can’t do it all by myself. You know if you don’t help me darling, I’ll have to find myself somebody else.” Sort of a weird combination of braggadocio and pathos. Probably a true reflection of the man himself, who often was described as irascible, difficult, distrustful of most people… and maybe even a little evil. His best songs create this dark, subterranean vibe. Even the titles intimidate: Your Funeral and My Trial. Keep Your Hand Out of My Pocket. One Way Out. Don’t Start Me Talkin’. Sonny Boy was a true badass of the blues. Help Me

Sonny Boy had already put in some serious miles before he showed up at Chess Studios in 1955. Depending on who you believe, he was born in 1899 (Sonny Boy’s claim), 1908 (on his headstone) or 1912 (possible census evidence). Very little is known about his first 30 years on the planet, other than he probably spent a lot of time in Tallahatchie County, Mississippi under his given name, Aleck “Rice” Miller. He also gained a strong taste for virtually all the major vices – booze, gambling, womanizing – while running across the southern U.S. and beyond with blues legends like Robert Johnson, Robert Nighthawk, Elmore James, Homesick James and Lockwood.

In Helena, Arkansas, Sonny Boy and some of his musical buddies (including Lockwood) developed a long and storied partnership with the Interstate Grocery Company as the King Biscuit Entertainers. They were the official band of King Biscuit Time, a show on KFFA radio that was mainly established to promote the company’s flour. It was during this stint in the ‘40s that Sonny Boy – probably goaded on by Interstate’s owner, Max Moore – appropriated the name of John Lee “Sonny Boy” Williamson, one of Chicago’s most successful and widely recognized bluesmen (Good Morning Little School Girl). And I’m guessing this grand act of identity theft is one of the main reasons why Sonny Boy II (who had little in common with his namesake) never received the same level of respect as Muddy, Wolf and Walter.

Sonny Boy recorded a few incendiary sides for the Trumpet label – most notably, the classic Mighty Long Time. But his greatest musical legacy is the time he spent at Chess from 1955 to 1964, cutting one blues gem after another. I have my personal favorites – some obvious ones, like Help Me, One Way Out and Checkin’ Up on My Baby, as well as a few more obscure yet equally satisfying numbers like this spot-on impersonation of Howlin’ Wolf: Like Wolf

I also enjoy the now-legendary outtakes, which feature some spirited banter between Sonny Boy and his boss Leonard Chess. I spliced together a couple of my favorite moments on this next sample… Don’t play it for the kids. Outtakes

Sonny Boy closed out his career at Chess with some fairly listless recordings, but took London by storm as part of the 1963 American Folk Blues Festival. He even stayed on after the tour, eventually recording and performing overseas with the Animals, the Yardbirds, Jimmy Page and other British bluesrockers. In the folk-blues concerts, he was fairly laid back and reserved. But in the clubs, he was the consummate showman – whipping out his old juke-joint bag of tricks that included playing his harmonica sideways and with no hands. Probably not what the kids expected from an elderly statesman of the blues – especially someone who began sporting a fine two-tone suit and bowler hat in honor of his new surroundings!

Sonny Boy probably knew his time wasn’t long when he returned to Helena in the spring of 1965. He played a few gigs and hung out with some of his old running buddies before passing away on May 25 of that year from a heart attack (apparently “hard living” wasn’t one of the options for the death certificate). You can find his grave under a large, well-kept headstone in Whitfield Cemetery, Tutwiler, Mississippi.

As British blues producer and writer Neil Slaven pointed out in the expansive liner notes to the Chess box set, “It’s ironic that such a private man in life should now have so many friends after his death. His music is his most durable memorial.”

Great video of Sonny Boy, solo – from the American Folk Blues Festival in Europe:

No need to try to hunt down that “Chess Years” box set (I couldn’t find a copy on Amazon or eBay). “The Essential Sonny Boy Williamson” (below) delivers the goods with 45 prime cuts from the Chess catalog (you blues vinyl nerds out there will know these tunes were originally released on the label’s Checkers subsidiary). “Bummer Road” includes a few other Chess tunes as well as the sprawling 12-minute outtake Little Village, in which an exasperated Sonny Boy explains to Leonard Chess the song is about a small town. “King Biscuit Time” pulls together most of his Trumpet recordings, live cuts from one of his final appearances on the radio program, and the earliest recorded version of Elmore James’ Dust My Broom.

Max Baumann, CEO, The Chill Group

My wife and I just spent a week at one of these all-inclusive resorts in Mexico – the kind of place that makes you feel like an alcoholic baby in a really lush crib, constantly reaching out to grab food and blender drinks… and gently sobbing when someone doesn’t show up.

Every afternoon at around 3, some well-tanned guy with a bandana around his head would drag a beat-up PA speaker out by the pool (safety… not a big issue in Mexico) and start playing this godawful music – usually some thumping, merengue-flavored pop confection – in a desperate attempt to get the party started. That was our cue to collect our stuff and find a remote stretch of beach for the rest of the afternoon.

On the last day of our visit, we saw bandana boy at the assigned hour and, like a couple of overstuffed lab rats, launched right into our newly learned response. Then something miraculous happened. As I was reaching for my SPF 185, I heard the big, bold and unabashedly romantic sound of Dexter Gordon caressing a timeless ballad… I think it was Don’t Explain, a song usually associated with the great Billie Holliday: Don’t Explain/Dexter Gordon

It was as if we’d been suddenly transported to a far more heavenly resort, free of whining children and overserved frat boys. The Land of Dex, where everyone is hip and sharply dressed and beautiful and the music springs from the very source of life eternal. The colors around us became more vivid; the sea and sky merging in a deep, electric blue.

Then we were overcome by this great longing to stay… to lie in those lounge chairs and await The Rapture, when the Almighty Dex returns to earth and plays the three perfect notes that can save our wretched souls from an eternity in hell, where the house band is the Black Eyed Peas. Another blender drink? No thanks, I’ve had enough.

Once again, I digress. But while I’m at it… On the flight back, I started paging through Hemispheres (inflight magazine for Continental and United) and came across an article about this surfer dude who developed a specialty drink called Just Chill – “a lightly carbonated peach and citrus drink dosed with 100 milligrams of the FDA-approved tea-leaf compound L-theanine, which has been shown in clinical studies to reduce anxiety while keeping people attentive.”

I was especially impressed with the thought process behind the product. “As you travel, you see a lot of stressed-out people,” said Max Baumann, CEO of The Chill Group. “I just looked around and realized people don’t need more energy drinks or caffeine; they need something to chill them out. Stress, nervousness and anxiety do not help you, as we’ve seen with all that jitter juice and snooze booze on the market.” Amen, Brother Max. As the sign says…

Photo by James Quine

So clearly, a higher force was guiding me to this post – a cheap opportunity to share with you a few of my favorite tunes for chilling the f#&k out.

As I’ve already demonstrated, any ballad featuring the wondrous Dexter Gordon will do just fine. And Dex didn’t approach these tunes lightly. He felt it was essential to know every word of the song – not only to get the phrasing right, but also to play it with the respect it deserves. But not necessarily like someone would sing it either. For example, the opening line of Where Are You, by Harold Adamson and Jimmy McHugh: “Where are you, where have you gone without me… I thought you cared about me, where are you?” First, listen to Frank Sinatra work his magic, then Dexter. Are you starting to feel more relaxed? Where Are You? (Frank Sinatra, then Dexter)

Jazz guitarist Kenny Burrell is another guy who really lays me out. Just staring at the cover of his album “Midnight Blue” makes me mellow. And whether he’s playing a ballad or a mid-tempo blues with a Latin groove (Chitlins Con Carne), Burrell brings everything to a slow burn. Doesn’t hurt to have a couple of Blue Note all-stars in your band – Stanley Turrentine on sax and Ray Barretto on congas. This one features Burrell with just his rhythm section, covering a tune first recorded by McKinney’s Cotton Pickers back in 1930. As Burrell says in the liner notes, “It’s a ballad, but essentially it’s still the blues.” Brother James plays this song with his band The House Cats down in St. Augustine, usually at a joint on Charlotte St. called Stogies. Stop in, get a glass of port, light up a cigar, sprawl out on the couch… if you’re still wound tight, you may need professional help. Gee Baby, Ain’t I Good To You/Kenny Burrell

I’m skeptical of the term “world music,” because it’s often used to bring a little credibility to some fairly lame music. That’s not the case with “The Intercontinentals,” featuring a makeshift band of gypsies put together by guitarist Bill Frisell. The overall flavor is African, mainly inspired by Malian guitarists Ali Farka Toure and Boubacar Traore. “Intercontinentals” features another legend from Mali, percussionist Sidiki Camara. But Frisell delivers on the promise of the title by adding Brazilian guitarist, drummer and vocalist Vinicius Cantuaria and Greek oud and bouzouki virtuoso Christos Govetas – not to mention two other Yanks, violinist Jenny Scheinman and pedal steel player Greg Leisz (heard to great effect on Ray Lamontagne’s Grammy-nominated “God Willin’ & The Creek Don’t Rise”). I know, sounds like a global trainwreck… but it works beautifully: Baba Drame/The Intercontinentals with Bill Frisell

I even have a few straight-up blues albums that I slap on when I really want to chill. One of my favorites is a set of recordings featuring the great blues pianist Otis Spann, mostly joined by Robert Lockwood Jr. on guitar. These sessions from August 23, 1960, are actually compiled on two albums – “Otis Spann Is The Blues” and “Walking The Blues” – that were released on Candid, a boutique jazz label formed in New York City by writer and political activist Nat Hentoff. The sound on these recordings is amazing… It was Spann’s first outing as a solo artist, and he never sounded better. And you’d be hard-pressed to find a more sympathetic partner than Lockwood, another bona-fide blues legend. He learned guitar at the feet of Robert Johnson (who lived with Lockwood’s mother for several years), and he built his reputation with some classy fretwork on essential recordings by Little Walter and Sonny Boy Williamson II. Lockwood was a familiar fixture in Cleveland, where he lived and performed for 45 years. The Candid albums are so warm and intimate, they make you feel like you’re right there in the room with Spann and Lockwood as they make blues history on songs like this (with vocals by Lockwood): I Got Rambling On My Mind #2/Otis Spann and Robert Lockwood Jr.

Another album that makes me feel like a very relaxed and content fly on the wall is the slyly named “Introducing… Ruben Gonzalez,” which was released in 1996 when the Cuban piano master was 77 years old. Although he was “rediscovered” when guitarist Ry Cooder enlisted him to play on the Grammy-winning Buena Vista Social Club project (which also let to the sessions for “Introducing…”), Gonzalez had been playing in Cuban dance bands since the 1930s. He also was a member of Estrellas de Areito, an all-star group of musicians who created delirious Afro-Cuban jam sessions out of a few tired old island standards. Gonzalez’s solo album is a more sedate affair, but with a living, breathing presence that can’t be denied. In other words, it ain’t background music. I’m trying not to overuse the word “timeless” in this blog… but I can’t think of a better adjective to describe how Gonzalez effortlessly weaves his way through these beautiful arrangements. Tumbao/Ruben Gonzalez

Speaking of timeless, let’s close with the remarkable voice of Nina Simone. I melt almost every time I hear a great woman singer like Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, Billie Holliday, Dinah Washington, Dusty Springfield… but Nina Simone might have the most seductive voice of all. Deep, earthy, strong, sexy, soulful, spiritual… and incapable of sounding like anyone else. She also was a classically trained pianist who could lay down some serious jazz. Here’s a cut from her very first recording – a trio session from 1957 with Jimmy Bond on bass and Albert “Tootie” Heath on drums. It features a lazy, loping rhythm that’s specially designed to lower your blood pressure. On second thought, bring me that blender drink… My Baby Just Cares For Me/Nina Simone

What’s your favorite album for kicking back? Share it as a comment… I’m far too relaxed to question your good taste.

Fabulous video of Peggy Lee with husband Dave Barbour on guitar – the very definition of cool.