James Harman — The Bluesmoose Session

Serendipity tracked him down to a bustling barroom stage all the way over in Groesbeek, Netherlands. It was late-October 2018, and James “Icepick” Harman was at one of the whistle stops along his annual European tour, letting an appreciative Dutch audience hear for themselves why a harmonica with the blues is a thing of wailing wonder.

The singing harpist’s regular band was stateside, however.

No worries. Because extremely good fortune came calling inside Café Bar De Comm, which was doubling that evening as an onsite, bandstand “studio.” Bluesmoose Radio, a prolific Dutch blues radio show with oodles of worldwide listeners and YouTube viewers, was wisely rolling tape to chronicle Harman’s auspicious visit. And the cavalry arrived in the form of Shakedown Tim & The Rhythm Revue—captained by Shakedown himself, the guitarist with a porkpie hat and a frequent jones for T-Bone Walker—who trucked over from their Belgium homebase. The seasoned quintet always does Harman right: shoring up vintage-style rhythm, inlaying fine details along the way, and, of course, laying down a springboard for the leader’s harp flights.

Bonded by tough, classic, throwback blues as well as telepathic teamwork, the combined six of them really cook.

The Bluesmoose Session captures 10 songs from the set—alive, wiggling and spiked with Harman’s impromptu shouts of “Have mercy” and “Thank you, baby.” Plus, being professionally recorded by a radio station, the fidelity expectedly sparkles.

It all starts as an effortlessly cool harmonica glides into the airspace, escorted by bass and drums locked into an easy swing. The bruiser of a saxophone likewise simmers low, saving up for its foghorn role the rest of the gig. But it’s the antsy guitar that instantly snaps the spell with every quick eruption, running the strings as if simulating a chill up the spine. Forget it, though, once the solo fully rips into “She Could Rock Awhile” with a barrage of sharp, knifelike incisions. And note that this may well be the only blues to ever deliver the line “she had a Buster Keaton smile.” Agreed: The degree of spunk is right up there as when “Got to Call My Baby” rhymes “beat him at his own game” with “all he had left was an Arkansas driver’s license, a moustache and a name.”

And that says something about Harman, the crafty songwriter. His own songbook was so stuffed with clever originals that need to borrow outside material never much arose. (The swirling “This Ship,” written and sung by Shakedown Tim, is the only non-Harman piece here.) On other albums, that imaginative pen delivered head-turning titles like “At the Flophouse,” “Icepick Confession” and “Jimmy’s Pink Alligator.”

This time, “Double Hogback Growler” and “Squat and Bust Your Breeches” steal that attention. The former, whose plot is tied to the age-old man-woman tangle, chunks along, tearing up ground from everyone heaving en masse akin to Eddie Taylor’s ensembles back in 1950s Chicago. The latter is similarly a stomper, except friskier and instrumental. That means Harman’s billy-goat goatee, a white tuft in overflowing cascade, hides the whole time—only coming into view whenever the need to belt a lyric forces him out from behind hands cupped around that buzzing harmonica of his. For an extra kick, he signs off with a cackling Woody Woodpecker laugh, which is recognized as the universal sign of a man having a blast.

The unaccompanied intro to “Leavin’ for Memphis” is judiciously reedy. “What’cha Gonna Do ’Bout Me” also sports an airier, downhome attack, with its edges engraved by the sax and guitar’s buttonhook riffs. But if you’re looking for muscle, skip to that steely solo laying into “Crapshoot.” Notes get inhaled, bent, and then spit back out in amped-up plumes. Know it or not, a lot of history has been built into that harp’s tones, phrasings and ideas.

Because Harman (born in Alabama) and his harmonica huffed and puffed all about the country until settling in southern California in the early-1970s. He apprenticed with Big Walter Horton. Backed the likes of Muddy, B.B., John Lee and T-Bone. Captained the Ice House Blues Band that evolved into the James Harman Band, which ended up accruing a stack of albums as well as spawning future headliners Kid Ramos to Dave Alvin. Plus, he baked cornbread you’d sell your soul for (track down the closing cut, “Grandma Lurleen’s Recipe,” on The Corn Bread Project’s Catawampus to hear him quite passionately recite the heirloom formula). Fellow harpists William Clarke, Rick Estrin and Rod Piazza were his West Coast contemporaries; Charlie Musselwhite was another pal. That’s also him sporadically seen (onstage) and heard (on records, like Rhythmeen, Mescalero, La Futura, and Live—Greatest Hits From Around The World) harping with ZZ Top. James got around.

On the other hand, at eight unhurried minutes, “Yo’ Family Don’t Like Me” is in no rush to get around. Not only is it the prize winner for creeping even slower than its studio incarnation on 2015’s Bonetime, but the tale of forbidden love is also this Session’s lengthiest stretch. The extra space affords the harp—natural and unamplified for a change—the luxury to slurp notes at leisure, to hang some high, to run some long, and even get some to wah-wah-wah like a baby for a bit. For its part, the piano sheds showers of crystalline ice, the way Otis Spann used to do; the guitar instead sheds Muddyisms.

“Get Away Boogie” is one of those shake-whatcha-got blowouts that naturally draws bystanders into howling response. It also makes the perfectly apt finale, telegraphing intentions right before calling it a night after an hour’s worth of whooping up a storm.

The Bluesmoose Session, blessed for release by Harman’s family, rescues a good time from being relegated to only word-of-mouth lore among that night’s lucky attendees—of which you’re now belatedly a part. Hearing him so vibrant, loose, and revved, it’s like James never left us in 2021, at age 74.

Label: New Shot

Release date: 7/25/25

Label website: New Shot Records.com

Reviewed by Dennis Rozanski