Dimples

The guitar part has a teasing quality — a circular phrase that seems to wink at the listener, light and confident, refusing to take itself too seriously. This is John Lee Hooker in a relatively playful register, the groove looser and more conversational than his brooding material. The band here is present without overwhelming, providing a cushion of rhythm that allows his voice room to move. And his voice is very much the instrument of the song — deployed with timing that suggests a stand-up comedian as much as a bluesman, delivering lines with a pause and weight that extracts maximum effect from minimal material. Lyrically the song is a gentle complaint and a physical observation simultaneously, the narrator noting a woman's physical characteristic as both appeal and source of mild frustration, the whole enterprise carried with a lightness that never tips into cruelty. The emotional register is flirtatious and fundamentally warm — this is music that likes people, that finds human behavior amusing rather than tragic. Culturally "Dimples" represents a side of Delta and Detroit blues that sometimes gets overshadowed by the heavier material: the blues as entertainment, as the sound of a room loosening up, as music designed to make a Saturday afternoon feel more generous than it actually is. Reach for this when something lighter is needed but you don't want to leave the blues tradition — when you want groove and character without weight, the feeling of a good story told by someone who has already decided it's going to end well.