Album Review: "My Four Reasons Rock Me Mama" by Banjo Ikey Robinson and His Bull Fiddle Band
If you’re a fan of raw, unfiltered jazz and blues from the early 20th century, My Four Reasons Rock Me Mama is an absolute treasure. Released in 1929 under Brunswick Records, this album captures a moment in time when music was less about perfection and more about soul. Led by “Banjo” Ikey Robinson, with Bill Johnson on double bass, Willie Barbee tickling the ivories, Bob Waugh on violin, and Frankie Jaxon adding quirky vocal effects, this band brings a gritty charm that feels like stepping into a smoky speakeasy.
Two tracks stand out for me: “Rock Me Mama” and “My Four Reasons.”
“Rock Me Mama” hits hard right outta the gate. It’s got that loose, rollicking energy that makes you wanna tap your feet even if you’re sitting still. Frankie Jaxon’s vocal effects are wild—like someone just let him go nuts in the studio—and they add this playful edge to the whole thing. You can almost picture him hamming it up live, getting laughs from the crowd while Robinson lays down some killer banjo licks. The rhythm section, anchored by Bill Johnson’s basslines, keeps everything tight but never stiff. There’s something so alive about this track—it’s messy in all the right ways.
Then there’s “My Four Reasons,” which slows things down a bit. This one’s moodier, leaning heavier into the blues side of their sound. Willie Barbee’s piano work here deserves serious props; he doesn’t overplay, letting each note breathe. Robinson’s banjo adds these little stabs of brightness against the darker tone of the tune. And man, does Bob Waugh’s violin bring the drama—it swoops and sways like it’s telling its own story. Together, these elements create a vibe that’s kinda haunting but also comforting, like hearing old tales from someone who’s lived through it all.
What sticks with me most isn’t just how good the music is—it’s how human it feels. These guys weren’t trying to reinvent the wheel; they were just doing what came naturally. That authenticity shines through every crackle and pop of this nearly century-old recording.
And honestly? Listening to this album feels like finding a secret time capsule buried deep in history. It reminds me that music wasn’t always about charts or algorithms—it used to be about connection. Like, wouldn’t it be wild to hop in a time machine and catch these cats playing live back in ’29? Something tells me Frankie Jaxon would steal the show.
