Partly, this was because he lived and recorded in the LP era. If Blind Lemon Jefferson had been brought into the studio, as Hopkins was, to record whole albums worth of music on the same day, he might have recorded more. Lead Belly died in 1949, before the LP era, which I knew without thinking about it, but I've only seen LP releases of his music, so this actually comes as a little surprise to me. His voluminous recordings for the Library of Congress were released as LPs. But because of his prison time, Lead Belly's recording career was relatively short.
There was a perfect convergence for Hopkins. He lived in the LP era, he lived a long time, he managed--unlike Scrapper Blackwell, for example--to keep himself in the public eye and in the recording studio. But there's another reason why one musician recorded output is plentiful while another's is sparse.
Like Jefferson and Lead Belly, and others who recorded a lot, he knew a lot of songs.
And this is significant. Obvious, if you think about it. But there are reasons why -- in blues, in rhythm and blues, in country, in rock and roll--you see so many brief careers, or one-hit wonders. There are other reasons, early death being right up there. Or addiction, or bad career choices, or prison. But an important reason is simply not having enough songs. You see it a lot in the doo-wop groups of the 50s, groups like the Penguins, whose "Earth Angel" is one of the most beloved and popular recordings of the era, but who never had another hit. And often, if you follow the careers of these groups, as Marv "Unca Marvy" Goldberg has, you discover that these one-hit groups made a number of other recordings, often moving from label to label, trying to catch that lightning in a bottle again. And if you listen to a few of these other, less successful recordings, you often discover that these singers really only had that one idea. That one spark of genius that produced a great harmonic idea wedded to a great beat--and the rest were imitations of that one spark.
Hopkins was as prolific as he was because he knew a lot of songs, because he could improvise moments of his life into song, and because he was subtle. The twelve-bar blues is a constant form, but Hopkins's lyric gifts were such that he could craft a lot of stories, and his variations on guitar licks and vocal approaches made each song a new experience.
This session for Prestige is a perfect example of that. It's just him and an acoustic guitar, which means he can set (and vary) his own tempos. He starts with two songs by others, "Buddy Brown's Blues" by his cousin Alger "Texas" Alexander, and the rhythm and blues standard "Wine Spo-Dee-O-Dee" by Stick McGhee. The lyric is mostly same, let's all get together and drink some wine, but the acoustic accompaniment, and Hopkins's introspective vocal styling, give it a very different feeling.
The rest are listed either as "Traditional" or by Hopkins, and it's sometimes hard to tell where the distinction falls. Some of the songs are little slices of Hopkins's life, like his ride on a DC-7 (His mama says "Son, you almost been to heaven." He says, "What you mean, Mama?" She says "Son, you been ridin' that high-flyin' DC-7.") "My Grandpa is Old Too!" is part sung, part spoken--a tribute to his grandpa who has "been takin' care of me ever since I was a boy," and who now deserves a little peace and quiet, not to be bothered. It's not sentimental wallowing like Eddie Fisher singing the English language version of the German song about my Papa who was so wonderful. or hero worship like Randy Travis thinking that his grandpa walked on water. It's the blues, and the blues are about how things are. And it's very moving.
"Beans, Beans, Beans" is jointly attributed to Hopkins and Traditional, which is really a little odd, since all these traditional songs are given alterations and tailored to fit Hopkins. This one is a mixture of song and story, mostly story, about working in the fields, and I would guess that the traditional part is the smallest. "Goin' to Dallas to See My Pony" run is listed as traditional, but it's new to me. But as I said, Lighnin' Hopkins knows a whole lot more songs than most people.
Houston folklorist Mack McCormick and Kenneth S. Goldstein produced. Since the session took place in Houston, so Hopkins needed no DC-7 to get to it, that probably means McCormick did the hands-on producing, which mostly meant getting a mike and sticking it in front of Hopkins. Well, nothing is ever that simple. But simplicity was the key here, and Hopkins nailed it.
Blues in My Bottle was the title of the album. "Sail On, Little Girl, Sail On" and "Death Bells" were the 45 RPM single.
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