I must be up front with you, reader, and confess that I’m no expert on jug bands—they never really piqued my interest. I guess I always considered them as unsophisticated music about unsophisticated things (cows, corn, Kentucky bourbon etc.) and I was too much of a townie to appreciate such simplicities. Simultaneously, I always loved the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou? Only now, after listening to Muddy Basin Ramblers’ records for three days straight, do I appreciate the great irony of this situation.
This Taipei-based outfit composed mainly of British and US expats has been slinging banjo, string bass, and washboard across Asia since 2003, with five albums under their belts to date. Singing mostly in English, sometimes Mandarin, and occasionally Cantonese, their music is good ol’ African-American blues, country folk and swing jazz—with a smattering of traditional Chinese music for good measure.
With simple, sweet melodies expertly played—backed by twinkling banjo harmonies and an insistent, thumping bass—Jug Band Millionaire also features novelty instruments, nonsense lyrics, sound effects and other silliness: so many of my favorite things! In fact it reminds me of a stripped-down Spike Jones and His City Slickers. Boy howdy, seems I’ve been a-sleepin’ on this ’ere jug band thing, yes siree.
The record features fourteen genre classics and original numbers, with an additional bonus track exclusive to CD buyers. I had the extra pleasure of hearing almost all for the first time, being a relative ignoramus where jug bands are concerned, but aficionados will be more familiar with the likes of “Deep Elem Blues” (first recorded by the Corfer Brothers in 1923), “Banjoreno” (Dixieland Jug Blowers, 1926), and “Sun Brimmer’s Blues” (Memphis Jug Band, 1927). Having sought out the originals online, I can imagine that the Ramblers’ takes will offer skiffle-heads welcome, high-definition updates on some very crackly-sounding 78s.
Originals include “Sparrow Blues (For Sleepy John)” and “Jug Band Millionaire ’23.” The former is a toe-tapping jump blues with gently effervescing banjo, while the latter is a washboard-driven bop about the improbability of making a fortune blowing the jug—something the Soggy Bottom Boys could relate to, I’m sure.
There’s plenty of variety packed into just over an hour of music, almost all of which would be well suited to swing dance of one sort or another: burn the floor up with a shag to “Washboard Cut Out” (Bobbie Leecan’s Need More Band, 1927), then cool it down with a lazy Lindy to “Blue Guitar Stomp” (Clifford Hayes’s Louisville Stompers, 1927). The only one which might resist dancing is “Rock Island Line” (inmates of the Arkansas Cummins State Farm, 1934—yes, really), an impressive all-band a cappella with accompanying train whistle.
The abundance of vocal talent is one of this record’s stand-out features, with all members contributing lead or backing vocals at some point. Their combined effect is a jingle-jangle of imperfect harmony, like a honky-tonk piano in human form—perfect for a band including a washboard and a plastic bathtub amongst its instruments. That being said, laundry tools or not, these instruments sound great in a Louisiana street busker sort of way.
My favorite of these lo-fi delights is the Calypso-adjacent “Lord, Got Tomatoes,” originally recorded by Bahamian guitarist Blind Blake Alfonso, not least for the verse that goes, “Mary had a little cat / That cat swallowed a ball of yarn / And when that cat had kittens one day / They all had sweaters on”—which might be the cutest darn thing I’ve heard my whole life.
To top it all off, everything described above comes packaged in the most impressive packaging: a card-bound, 33-page booklet with hand-printed CD wallet, song notes, historical tidbits, sheet music for selected songs, hand-drawn illustrations, and other amusements. So while I highly recommend that you check out Jug Band Millionaire on Bandcamp right now, I don’t recommend that you download it—splash that extra $6 on the physical media and get far more than your money’s worth.
