Killers From Space : James Luther Dickinson : Review : Rolling Stone

Acolyte of bluesmen Furry Lewis and Sleepy John Estes, sideman of Dylan and the Rolling Stones, producer of Big Star, the Replacements and Screamin' Jay Hawkins, world-class song bag, down-home bon vivant and fond father of several North Mississippi Allstars, Jim Dickinson is a legend. And since no mere album could measure up against such a resume, it's a credit to the only label ever to finance two of them that this one reaches its shoulders. Dickinson is a roots rocker with attitude who made his name as a piano man; always gruff-voiced and now sixty-five, he can't put across a sweet tune like “I Was a Champion” on sly smarts alone. But he's jovially horny on “Roly Poly” and “You Better Rock Me Baby.” He's more broken up than the titles of “Lonely Nights” and “I Need You” deserve. And when he caps “Dirty on Yo' Mama” with a sermon about mendacity, damned if you don't believe.