Spotlight: Eric Bibb

Eric Bibb is bringing the funk. His new album, One Mississippi, adds a fresh edge of danceability to the veteran songwriter’s signature brand of warm, acoustic blues. Press him a little on this point, and he’ll rank it as his best album yet.

In large part, the man we have to thank for this is Bibb’s long-time producer and musical soulmate, Glen Scott. “The funk factor is emphasised compared to some of my earlier work for sure,” Bibb says. “Bringing out that funk has meant so much to me. I can write sweet songs, tender songs but it’s almost like, earlier on, I was embarrassed by how funky I wanted the music to be. Glen has underlined my desire to make music that’s groovy in a healing way. If I can do that and say something with the lyrics? Man, that’s it. That’s my goal.”

Their partnership is rooted in the late 1990s, when Bibb visited Scott’s home studio in London. “It was amazing to see him produce, record and play in the same session. It freaked me out. I thought, ‘First, he’s a genius. Second, he likes my music and he makes me sound really cool’.” Scott’s role on Bibb’s albums has grown steadily ever since – not just as a producer and arranger, but as multi-instrumentalist and co-writer too. “We’re on the same page, which makes the music-making so much richer,” Bibb says. “This is a brother.”

The keynote in so much of Bibb’s work – both now and throughout his half-century career – is a sense of determined hope. This is not vacuous optimism, but rather hope as an essential act of will in even the darkest circumstances. “That’s a product of my upbringing,” he says. “My father and mother were activists, so I’ve been raised by people who were seeped in determined hope. That turns into the healing thing, because I’ve been exposed to many philosophical and spiritual paths that talk about healing.”

On the new album, that attitude’s best epitomised by the song ‘Crossroads Marilyn Monroe’, which tackles Carolyn Bryant’s belated confession of the lie which led to the torture and murder of 14-year-old Emmet Till in 1955 Mississippi. Bibb doesn’t soft pedal the terrible consequences of Bryant’s lie, but still finds a moment in the song to hope that finally confessing it lightened her own burden.

“To me, the purpose of that song was not just pointing out brutal racism and how messed-up it is. We need to get beyond that historic grudge. We understand the rage – we understand all that – but there’s another step. Otherwise, what’s the point? This woman lied, which got Emmet Till murdered, but her humanity is still in there somewhere and it deserves recognition.”

In other hands, I suggest, this could have been a very angry and bitter song. “I’ve been outside of the United States for most of my adult life,” Bibb reminded me. “The relief from the daily poisonous atmosphere there has given me an easier time embracing forgiveness.”

Bibb was born in 1951 to a New York family of musicians and activists. His father Leon was a prominent folk singer and TV performer, his uncle John a founding member of the Modern Jazz Quartet and his godfather the legendary bass-baritone singer, Paul Robeson. “I had a blessed upbringing when it comes to preparing me for being the music maniac I am. My dad introduced me to his colleagues. He took me to his gigs, his rehearsals, his recording sessions.”

“I was surrounded from a very early age not just by good musicians, but by great musicians, people who I later found out were icons.” These included casual visitors to the family home, friends of his parents and comrades in the political battles they fought: Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, Judy Collins, Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte.

And, of course, Paul Robeson. “He was my dad’s mentor and friend – both politically and as an artist. I don’t remember meeting him often, but somehow he was always there anyway, in photos, books, my parents talking about him. I was conscious of his stature. Just the fact that I could say he was my godfather was a tremendous source of pride and empowerment.”

When Bibb was 19 he decided to quit America and begin his musical career in Europe. Partly, this decision was prompted by simple exhaustion at the steady drip of US racism (“I was just tired of it”), but that was far from the whole story. “This was the era of the Vietnam War movement. When I decided that academic life at that time was not what I wanted to pursue, I was putting myself in a position to be drafted. That was one of the big reasons I decided to take off. The whole civil rights coalition had split, which was devastating for me because it made friendships change. Europe was calling. I’d been there with my parents, so it wasn’t a completely crazy jump.”

He’s lived in Sweden ever since and found a musical community there which suits him to the ground. “There are great blues players here. There’s a harmonica player I work with, his name is Greger Andersson. He’s just phenomenal. There’s a guitarist I work with here, Staffan Astner, who’s a blues king on the level of the greats.” Not only that, but Scott has recently moved to Sweden too, making it even easier for the pair to collaborate. “I don’t say this often because it sounds like hyperbole,” Bibb confides, “But I’m in musical heaven.”

Eric Bibb’s UK tour starts March 11