These three records — sourced from French radio broadcasts and sounding better than you have any right to expect — suggest a musician still hitting his stride, with plenty left to say
Elemental Music
Freddie King – guitar, vocals; Alvin Hemphill – organ; Ed Lively – guitar;
Lewis Stephens – piano; Benny Turner – bass; Calep Emphrey – drums
Only one full live album appeared during Freddie King’s lifetime, which makes Feeling Alright one of the great archival finds in recent blues memory. Recorded at France’s Nancy Jazz Pulsations Festival in October 1975 before a crowd of 50,000, this is the Texas Cannonball on fire — two hours of guitar, soulful singing, and sheer force that will have you heading for the record store on April 18th before the three-LP limited edition runs out.
What strikes you first is the sound. King’s guitar comes through with startling clarity, the organ planted firmly on the left, the piano answering from the right, bass and drums locked in the center. “Have You Ever Loved a Woman” opens the set and runs nearly seventeen minutes, King twisting individual notes until they ring and ache, that gospel-blues cushion spreading wide behind him. It’s a slow-burning declaration of intent.
“Sen-Sa-Shun,” paired here in a medley with Magic Sam’s “Lookin’ Good,” shifts gears entirely — a freight-train groove with call-and-response guitar so relentless you can hear the Yardbirds and a whole generation of British players borrowing it, Clapton absorbing every last note.
The band itself is a revelation. Alvin Hemphill’s organ is the connective tissue throughout, and Lewis Stephens — who recalls this European run as a “blistering” five-or-six-week stretch — pushes barrelhouse piano front and center on “Sweet Home Chicago,” the audience clapping along in unison. “Messin’ with the Kid” pulls the rhythm sideways in a satisfying hurky-jerky lurch. “Wee Baby Blues” slows everything down, a crying lead wrapped in vocal harmony, those pinging guitar notes setting off against it — church-like, with a touch of good-time eeriness that’s hard to shake.
King was never just a blues purist, and this set reflects that. “The Things I Used to Do” is almost a cry, his vocals pushing hard over a slow shuffle while the piano runs bluesy tremolos underneath. “Stormy Monday” gets the same treatment — sparse and patient, the guitar repeating its phrase like a question that won’t go away. Then “Goin’ Down” hits with high-octane force, and “Feelin’ Alright” finds him riding a loose rock groove as Hemphill cuts loose on the organ. That range — Texas swing, Chicago grit, and rock-inflected energy — is exactly why European audiences were discovering him just as Americans were catching up.
“You’re the One” closes things on a more measured, soul-inflected note, a reminder that King could dial back the firepower and still hold a room. The French audience had heard nearly two hours of it by that point. Judging by the yelling and clapping, they weren’t ready to leave.
There is something bittersweet about hearing all of this arrive now. King was gone fourteen months after this festival set was recorded, dead at 42 from health problems that had worsened through years of relentless touring. He had only just broken through to the wider rock audiences he deserved. These three records — sourced from French radio broadcasts and sounding better than you have any right to expect — suggest a musician still hitting his stride, with plenty left to say. Forty-some years on, the Texas Cannonball is still saying it.
