When he’s not driving a city bus on the west side of Chicago, Toronzo Cannon is gigging local clubs on the weekend and headlining festivals around the world. His latest album, The Chicago Way (Alligator), is a gritty testament to life in his hometown. Besides his natural showmanship, Cannon has found a new way to create modern blues; no album from Chicago in recent memory has so thoughtfully articulated the anguish of street violence. The city continues to deal with his blues as not just personal, but a reflection of the city itself.  Late-night television viewers will recognize Lil Ed Williams as the fez-topped guitarist who once taught Conan O’Brien how to play blues guitar. His backstory goes far deeper; for 27 years Williams has laid claim to his own style of street-burning boogie blues, reminiscent of the late Hound Dog Taylor. A slide guitarist who can fire up a crowd, but also keep things burning on the low end. Williams’ music is evidence that the blues does not have to be a pity party.  Born in Jackson, Mississippi, Taylor moved to Chicago’s west side as a young boy and started playing in clubs a few years later. But despite that usual blues trajectory, Taylor has more in common with outliers Jimi Hendrix, Wes Montgomery and George Benson. Like them, his guitar playing goes far beyond the music’s roots and borrows heavily from funk, rock and jazz. The versatility of his trio allows Taylor to space to swim through genres with precision and style, preventing the music from drowning in too many notes, while proving a strong blues inflection transcends genre.  Lurrie Bell continues the legacy of his father Carey Bell, the late blues harmonica virtuoso who served as a transitional player between players like Little Walter and Billy Branch. A guitarist and singer who accompanied his originals alongside signature songs ranging from Mississippi Fred McDowell to Thomas Dorsey, Lurrie Bell has always walked the fine line between scorching blues and church spirituals. His latest album, Can’t Shake This Feeling, pairs him with frequent collaborator Matthew Skoller on harmonica for a record that exhibits blues ensemble minimalism with soulful vocals.  To appreciate the lowdown blues of Tail Dragger means seeing him live. A lanky singer in a western gambler’s suit and Stetson, Tail Dragger – born James Yancey Jones – matches swagger to his growling vocals, which were influenced directly by his mentorship with Howlin’ Wolf himself in the 1960s and early 1970s. He served 17 months in prison in the early 1990s on manslaughter charges for killing a fellow bluesman after a gig, an incident he said resulted from self-defense. At 76, the West Side singer is known for his dexterous live shows where he prowls through the audience, drops to his knees and crawls – a performance style where anything can happen. Unlike many bluesmen, he also got political this year, releasing Hillary, a get-out-the-vote pitch video that endorsed the Democratic candidate.  Harmonica player and vocalist Billy Branch is one of the leading advocates of Chicago’s blues tradition. He started out playing in Willie Dixon’s band in the 1970s and Branch’s own band Sons of Blues has served as a global ambassador for the music thanks to Blues in the Schools, an interdisciplinary program he teaches all over the world that emphasizes how the blues is the fundamental root of all American music. Branch and SOB are dexterous players who steer clear of the cliches to reinvent classics and present the music’s long journey, from its southern origins to the artistry and experimentation of its full electric sound.  Much of what represents modern Chicago blues has strong soul influences. No better artist represents that side than Vance Kelly, a South Side performer whose funky blues and soul influence echoes both James Brown and Johnnie Taylor. He performed as a side guitarist for much of his career until the 1990s when he broke out solo with his Backstreets Blues Band where he emerged as a brilliant vocalist who didn’t just accompany his guitar but lead it with style.
Rolling Stones’ new cover album reflects on Chicago’s great blues players of the past, as current scene flourishes and reflects on city’s violence in new ways