Swamp Dogg: A Love Letter in 16 Songs
Charles with some favorites from an artist he loves
(Photo by David McMurry)
Jerry Williams, Jr. – the performer, songwriter, and producer who records as Swamp Dogg – has been making remarkable recordings for seventy years. In the 1970s, he managed to both co-write an award-winning country classic – Johnny Paycheck’s “She’s All I Got” – and end up on Richard Nixon’s enemies list for his anti-war activities. On his own recordings and the many he wrote and produced for others, he explored overlapping traditions and unexplored frontiers of the country-soul crossovers that propelled so much of the era’s best music, especially in places like Muscle Shoals, Alabama, where he became a studio mainstay in the 1970s. In recent years, he’s achieved a new level of prominence thanks to young fans like Justin Vernon or Margo Price and a series of astonishing albums that are as good as anything he’s ever done. Speaking of which, he’s releasing a new one on Friday, BlackGrass. I’ve loved Swamp Dogg since I first heard him. I’ve written about him a lot over the years, and I’ll be writing about BlackGrass here on its release day. To get ready for what is sure to be one of his most acclaimed and (hopefully) successful releases, I wanted to look back at a few highlights from throughout his brilliant career.
So, here are 16 songs that I love by Swamp Dogg. (Why 16? Why not?) As always, there are caveats. The biggest is that I’ve only included songs released by the man himself, which precludes an astonishing catalog of his compositions recorded by others. (That’s worth a whole separate post by itself. Maybe someday.) Also, this is not meant as a comprehensive overview of his entire catalog, but I have tried to cover the waterfront of a career that sometimes gets considered only for its beginnings or most recent chapters. And, finally, there are many other tracks I could’ve included. Let me know your favorites in the comments. I’m sure that I love them too.
For now, let me count some of the ways…
1. “What’s The Matter With You, Baby?” - Jerry Williams (single, 1967)
Before Swamp Dogg, there was Jerry Williams. From 1954 to 1969, Williams released a series of singles that – befitting such a consummate pro and avid listener – engage with multiple stylistic strains of this golden R&B era, from heartsick ballads to novelty dance tunes. There’s comparatively little here to suggest the Doggmatic iconoclasm to follow, perhaps, but his early recordings fit perfectly in any soul mix and sometimes hint toward the wit and fire of what was to come. My favorite is the stomping “What’s The Matter With You, Baby?,” a 1967 release where Williams warns a wayward lover over rat-a-tat drums and punching saxophone. Not far from the up-tempo ravers of fellow country-soul traveler Joe Tex, “What’s The Matter With You, Baby?” finds Williams in a punchy mood, rasping his way through a series of admonitions with a pain in his heart and a twinkle in his eye. Best of all is the spoken section at the end, where he raps through syncopated promises to “Sit right here in my rocking chair, drink Shakespeare, [and] drink root beer” if she doesn’t do right. But, of course, the slight break in Williams’ voice indicates that all this bluster hides more tender emotions, an ambivalence that he would work to only greater effect as the years went by.
2. “Total Destruction to Your Mind” (from Total Destruction to Your Mind, 1970)
Swamp Dogg sure knew how to make an entrance. Debuting in 1970, Williams’ first track as the Dogg was this fiery statement of trickster purpose, a sea of wah-wah guitars, pounding keyboards, and Sly-style, “boom boom” vocal interplay. “Total Destruction to Your Mind” blends the mind-blowing sensibility of the psychedelic era with the aforementioned R&B stomps of the Jerry Williams days. There are pointed criticisms of U.S. drug and military policy, but the song’s primary message is as much a bluesy assertion of significance – “wasn’t that a man?” – as much as a specifically countercultural overturning. As the first track of the wonderful first Swamp Dogg album, it’s a killer. As an artistic thesis, it’s hard to beat. As a joyous blast of sound, it’s absolutely un-deniable. As sure as the sun will shine, shine, shine.
3. “Redneck” (from Total Destruction to Your Mind, 1970)
Swamp Dogg included three Joe South songs on his first couple albums, indicating a deep stylistic and thematic affinity between the two brilliant southern musician-songwriters. While I love the other two covers (an urgent “These Are Not My People” and an epic take on the pastoral elegy “Don’t It Make You Want to Go Home”), it’s the Dogg’s fiery version of “Redneck” that stands out. Part of the reason is, of course, that Williams makes explicit the racial critique just under the surface in South’s withering portrait of a hypocritical, privileged white boy. But more of the reason, and connected, is that Swamp Dogg’s version just cooks, a strutting takedown that dances all over the title character without masking the anger at what he represents. Williams’ grainy twang jabs through smirking piano and knife-edge guitar, as horns offer their wordless disapproval through Memphis-style fills. With his version of “Redneck,” Swamp Dogg burns down the house in more ways than one.
4. “God Bless America for What” (from Rat On!, 1971)
Swamp Dogg’s justified reputation for tricksy disruption shouldn’t overshadow the fact that many of his most affecting songs – whether personal or political – are straight-ahead, gospel-infused ballads. One of the best is “God Bless America for What.” The title suggests a refutation, and it is, but he’s also after something more interesting here. Noting the presence of historical violence and contemporary injustice, and specifically condemning the Vietnam War, Williams notes that the era’s youth protest is fundamentally a demand that the nation gets right with both God and itself. It’s this generation-gap that earns particular mention from Alice Randall, who uses the song as a symbol of Swamp Dogg’s “essential black country eccentricity” in her masterful My Black Country. A thundering sermon somewhere between similar messages from Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the MC5, Swamp Dogg turns down the volume and forces listeners to sit in the painful reality expressed so powerfully in his soaring, aching delivery. This disjunction between national ideology and practice remained a favorite theme: He even returned to the song, later releasing a live version that expanded its message over twelve minutes. (Not to mention a different song called “God Ain’t Blessing America.”) This original is most effective, both because of Williams’ aching performance and the simmering church groove of the Muscle Shoals musicians behind him. It’s no surprise that, near the end, Williams advises us “don’t say a word…just think about it,” as the band vamps tenderly behind him. I sure hope we’re still thinking about it.
5. “Sam Stone” (from Cuffed, Collared and Tagged, 1972)
There are anti-war songs all over Swamp Dogg’s discography, extending from Vietnam to Iraq and including takes both eviscerating and anguished. (His anti-war activity also included playing on the “F.T.A.” tour of 1972, which is what landed him on Nixon’s enemies list.) Perhaps most profound, and most enduring, is his 1972 version of John Prine’s devastating character study. Where Prine converses, Swamp Dogg proclaims, turning a matter of fact into a matter of public record. With strings weeping around Jesse Carr’s guitar as it holds space for Williams to testify, “Sam Stone” is both reaffirmation and reinvention of the original and – in either version – a still-urgent reminder of what’s left broken after the battle is over.
6. “Wife Sitter” (from Gag a Maggott, 1973)
There are two kinds of songs about cheating, loving on the side, et cetera. One kind is a troubled, even tortured ballad. This is the other kind, a playful celebration of fooling around that doubles as a pointed commentary on sexual politics. Powered by grooves and impulses similar to contemporaneous hits like Betty Wright’s “Clean Up Woman” or Johnnie Taylor’s “Who’s Making Love?,” and produced with TK Records head Steve Alaimo, “Wife Sitter” is a prime cut of 70s soul with an infectious hook and a flirty bounce of an arrangement. As the title suggests, the “wife sitter” is the man who “takes care of business on the home front” while a man is gone, both in terms of pleasing the woman left lonely and being there for her children. It’s surprisingly wholesome, all things considered, although the leering “ooh yeah” background vocals and Williams’ roster of joking, cooing lyrical gestures keep it from being too G-rated. (Dig the way he extends the syllabus at the end of “While you’re out making love to some man’s wife/I’m doing the same to yours at the saaaame tiiiime.”) The punchline at the end – delivered by Williams with a cackle – is too good to spoil here.
7. “Buzzard Luck” (from Swamp Dogg’s Greatest Hits?, 1976)
Swamp Dogg’s not the only person to release an album of new material with the cheeky title of Greatest Hits, but he might be the only one to add a question mark at the end. (And to pair it with a cover image featuring a “YUCK FOU” t-shirt.) “Buzzard Luck” sure sounds like a hit, a gliding groove that finds the shared terrain between disco and Urban Cowboy country. Powered once again by the mix of guitar sting and horn punctuation, Williams tells a hard-luck story that finds bluesy humor in the protagonist’s bad fortune. Hypothetically, even with some of these lyrics, a song built around a thesis of “I’m the only person down in the world with no chance to get up” could become a slog, but Williams’ signature snarling vocals – paired with the bongo-driven beat – sends “Buzzard Luck” straight onto the dance floor. Personal breakdowns rarely break it down to such fierce effect.
8. “I’ve Never Been To Africa” (from Swamp Dogg’s Greatest Hits?, 1976)
The diasporic longing of the title phrase comes with a righteous sting in its tail: “And it’s your fault.” Indeed, as much as Swamp Dogg dreams of a return to an African homeland, he pairs it with a recognition that his inability to do so is a direct consequence of the actions of white men in both past and present. The lyrics offer a textured blend of Black nationalist politics and Afro-centrism, but – as usual in his work – the song’s intelligence is animated by Williams’ gifts for melody and arrangement. A mid-tempo testimony, “I’ve Never Been To Africa” is a showcase for the upper end of Williams’ vocal range, particularly on the soaring chorus. He revisited the song on 1991’s Surfin’ in Harlem, altering the melody and changing some of the lyrics to go even deeper. It ends up sounding both more assured and more desperate – maybe we’ll get another version at some point.
9. “Dyn-O-Mite” (from You Ain’t Never Too Old to Boogie, 1976)
You Ain’t Never Too Old to Boogie is perhaps the unsung gem of Swamp Dogg’s discography. (It certainly sounds that way to me on my re-listen to his entire catalog.) From the funky “Sweetest Thing in California” to the country slide of “Believe in Me Baby,” it’s a vibrant and pleasurable collection of the range of Swamp Dogg’s many talents. My favorite track is probably “Dyn-O-Mite,” a pumping throwback with a timely Good Times reference in the title and an even timelier funk-rock arrangement. (Check out that grinding guitar breakdown in the middle.) It’s pure, lusty devotion, with Williams sounding young(er) again as he bounds around the melody. “Dyn-O-Mite” is as explosive as its title and burns just as hot.
10. “Come to L.A.” (from I Called for a Rope and They Threw Me a Rock, 1989)
“Come to L.A.” is one of several songs about life in California from longtime Angeleno Jerry Williams. Perhaps befitting his resident’s knowledge, these are some of his most specific songs, with details that range from bad water to housing prices. Some of it seems a bit grouchy (and a little sex-phobic in various ways), but he also doesn’t lose sight of the important targets. (“Don’t worry about muggers walking the streets,” he notes. “They all working for the L.A.P.D.”) The bubbling track, and the glee with which Williams places his smirking lyrics around it, is what keeps this from just being a rambling if amusing letter to the editor. (He even includes brief synth-drum sections that nod towards the spare sounds of L.A.’s emergent rap empire.) Tapping into the same ambivalent spirit that Randy Newman tapped to greater commercial success (although maybe not creative success?) with “I Love L. A.,” “Come to L.A.” is a slice of life that avoids both Hollyweird clichés and West Coast romanticizing.
11. “He Don’t Like Country Music (And He Hates Little Kids)” (from Don’t Give Up On Me: The Lost Country Album, 2014)
Swamp Dogg’s always been country and will tell you so. Country was the first music he knew and performed publicly. He recorded country songs since the beginning. He incorporated country sounds at every phase of his recordings. And he wrote stone-country classics of which “She’s All I Got” is only the most famous. But, despite this and perhaps predictably, he was never able to parlay these talents into a broader country career. It wasn’t for lack of trying: in 1981, he recorded an album of country material that got picked up by Mercury, but they never released it. He continues to note this as an unfortunate career milestone. Emerging years later as part of his reissue series, the lost album finds Williams engaging with contemporary country at the dawn of the eighties. It mostly succeeds, especially on vibrant songs like “He Don’t Like Country Music (And He Hates Little Kids),” another of the artist’s seemingly endless supply of great song titles. It’s a twirling, steel-driven warning to a friend about a lover whose seeming sincerity is given away by the two title revelations. As relationship prerequisites go, the duo isn’t a bad one (update your profiles accordingly). And the song features shout-outs for artists from Charley Pride (who gets mentioned first, in a move that can’t be accidental), Loretta Lynn, T.G. Sheppard, Dolly Parton, and many others who make up the wide-open spaces of country royalty. I’d add Swamp Dogg to that list, especially when he’s tipping his hat to the country traditions that he continues to explore and enrich.
12. “If I Ever Kiss It (He Can Kiss It Goodbye”) (from If I Ever Kiss It (He Can Kiss It Goodbye), 2002)
If you can’t tell by the title, the album cover should help you: this is a song about the joy of cunnilingus. The Dogg relishes the act in luscious detail, a celebration of giving pleasure that allows Williams to roll out some of his sexiest, and funniest, lyrics. (My current favorite: “They ain’t got nothing at Six Flags/To compete with my face.”) He licks, eats, and even slurps (!) with admirable directness and clear enjoyment, which makes the song’s braggadocio feel less like boast than guarantee. It’s a great addition to the sex-positive canon that stretches from “dirty blues” through modern southern soul, part of an album that luxuriates in love and lust more fully and deliciously than anything he’s done. At least so far: If the song makes anything clear, it’s that this Dogg won’t quit until the job is done.
13. “They Crowned an Idiot King” (from Resurrection, 2007)
What a testament to Swamp Dogg’s range that he followed up his most deliciously carnal album with one of his most pointedly political. The songs on Resurrection tackle war, racism, poverty, and environmental degradation from a twenty-first-century context. Its best song takes most specific aim. “They Crowned an Idiot King” lambasts the elections of George W. Bush and their aftermath, blaming everyone from Fox News to an unengaged electorate for this mystifying and mortifying decision. The ableist title image hasn’t aged well, but most of its insights have, as has the organ-centered funereal march that makes this feel like a eulogy for those who suffered and died because of the king’s coronation. In November 2016, I played this song a lot. I fear I’ll be doing so again in November 2024.
14. “America, Here’s My Boy” (from Song Reader, 2014)
Beck’s 2012 collection of original sheet music, Song Reader, produced a 2014 collection of artists performing its contents. It’s a fine set overall, but nothing gets close to the impact of Swamp Dogg’s heartbreaking version of “America, Here’s My Boy.” He’s helped by familiar subject matter – it’s a song about a wartime death that flips the title of a patriotic parlor tune in favor of a mournful reminder of the sacrifice such patriotism often insists is necessary. And what audible grief: Williams has never sounded wiser or wearier than when he wraps his still-clarion tenor around Beck’s melody over soft piano backing. A perfect pairing with “Sam Stone” (either his or Prine’s original), “America, Here’s My Boy” refuses to flinch.
15. “I’ll Pretend” (from Love, Loss, and Autotune, 2018)
The best joke of Swamp Dogg’s auto-tune experiment is that he isn’t fucking around in the least. He recognized the same paradoxical potential in auto-tune that made Kanye West’s 808s and Heartbreak so striking – by hiding his voice within a glitching mess of computer manipulation, he actually sounded as unadorned and vulnerable as he had in many years. The album’s standout track – a collaboration with regular collaborator Guitar Shorty and new fan Justin Vernon – is a raw, aching nerve. Sounding very much like West’s icy, spiky autotune productions (or those of Vernon’s band Bon Iver, for that matter), “I’ll Pretend” deconstructs a lost-love song into its phased component parts, perfectly capturing the fragments of thought and feeling that characterize a traumatic breakup. There are lighter moments on the album – “Sex With Your Ex” is a hoot – but “I’ll Pretend” shows that sometimes doing total destruction to your mind involves a very different energy.
16. “Please Let Me Go ‘Round Again” (with John Prine) (from Sorry You Couldn’t Make It, 2020)
2020’s Sorry You Couldn’t Make It was both summation and new chapter, as Swamp Dogg came to Nashville to make the country-forward album that he’d always desired. (And, as the winking title and cover photo suggests, to remind us that he’d been country all along and we just hadn’t recognized it.) He finally recorded “She’s All I Got,” traipsed through the sounds of big-tent Americana with the command of someone who’d helped invent the idea, and recorded two songs with John Prine, whose Oh Boy Records released the album. “Memories” is a wonderful, nostalgic lope, but I’m always stopped short by “Please Let Me Go ‘Round Again.” The album’s closing track, it’s a sweet wish for more and wiser life. With Williams’ piercing tenor weaving with Prine’s cozy baritone, the song gained tragic poignancy when Prine died just before the album’s release. “Give me one more chance, Swamp,” he laughs at one point. I’m sure Jerry Williams wishes he could, as we all do. But at least Swamp Dogg is still here to go around again, armed with “Sam Stone” (which he thanks Prine for in the outro) and all those other great songs – by himself and others – that have made him into such a singular, remarkable artist.
He’ll add to that esteemed catalog with the release of BlackGrass, an album that is sure to add an essential new chapter the continuing adventures of Swamp Dogg. May he continue to do total destruction to our minds for as long as he can.
Coming Friday: I talk about BlackGrass, with help from Swamp Dogg himself.
If you like what you’re reading here, please think of subscribing to No Fences Review! It’s free for now, although we will be adding a paid tier with exclusive content soon. Also, if you’d like to support our work now, you can hit the blue “Pledge” button on the top-right of your screen to pledge your support now, at either monthly, yearly, or founding-member rates. You’ll be billed when we add the paid option. Thanks!