I have a fond memory of many years ago seeing Hüsker Dü’s drummer, the late Grant Hart, play a solo show with Phil Alvin’s band, The Blasters. Grant’s electric guitar broke and he asked if he could borrow a guitar. Phil quickly handed his battered acoustic to Grant—a bit of an act of trust—and Grant duly strapped it on. Grant strummed a few ragged chords looking utterly bemused, then turned to Phil and said, “Geez! Is this thing steam-powered?!” Phil gave Grant a big grin and Grant continued on with his set, admittedly struggling a bit with the guitar.

I mention this because these days you might not expect the mercurial and opinionated singing drummer of the Hüskers to be on friendly terms with a roots rocker like Phil Alvin. But The Blasters were in the early punk milieu, and their blending of punk attitude with a supercharging of traditional American music gained the respect of the likes of Black Flag’s Henry Rollins, Gun Club’s Jeffrey Lee Piece and, not so surprisingly after all, Grant Hart. Now, as so many bands that trod the boards many years ago are being reappraised and their profiles heightened, this is a prime time to reissue Phil Alvin’s largely-overlooked-at-the-time 1986 solo album for Slash/Warner Bros. Un “Sung Stories,” released by Liberation Hall in conjunction with an anthology of Phil’s best known endeavor entitled, Mandatory: The Best Of The Blasters (see my review [link]).

Comprised of 10 covers, Un ‘Sung Stories” hits many dusty corners of the American music songbook and lets Phil stretch, his voice strong and versatile throughout. As another sign of that aforementioned respect, but coming from an entirely different direction, the first song on this album, “Someone Stole Gabriel’s Horn” (made famous by Bing Crosby), features the Dirty Dozen Brass Band (and The Blasters’ (and Little Richard’s!) saxophonist Lee Allen), starting things off with a lush taste of New Orleans. But things shift quickly with “Next Week Sometimes,” a wonderful blues about gold diggers and ghosts originally recorded in 1928 by the mysterious Alec Johnson, the first of four songs that are essentially Phil solo with guitar or minor accompaniment.

The third song, “The Ballad Of Smokey Joe,” changes gears yet again with a medley of three songs associated with Cab Calloway and performed by Sun Ra And The Arkestra. Yeah, no kidding! That’s Sun Ra himself on piano! It’s a suitably slinky, creeping triptych. This is a song suite about opium use, after all. Of course, the Arkestra’s backing is immaculate. “Death In The Morning” is another spare blues mixed with gospel that includes just light drums, backing chorus, and some nearly a cappella interludes. Despite Phil’s legendary accompanists, it’s these bare bones tunes that are my favorites on the album, allowing Phil to dig deep and really sing. If you get the vinyl, Side A concludes with “The Old Man Of The Mountain,” another Cab Calloway number with the Arkestra doing their thing across every second.

“Daddy Rolling Stone,” something of a Phil Alvin staple, goes for a bit of straight ahead, muscular R&B. Blaster/Fabulous Thunderbird-er Gene Taylor lends piano to this stomping, swaggering take on the Otis Blackwell classic. Next is “Titanic Blues,” another solo blues originally done by more mysterious bluesmen “Hi” Henry Brown and Charley Jordan. Phil’s re-telling of the sinking of the Titanic is tender and touching, his unmistakable voice expressive and unadorned, and his guitar picking quite excellent.

The sadly always-relevant “Brother Can You Spare A Dime?,” another song made famous by Bing Crosby, enlists Sun Ra And The Arkestra for a third time, now with a bit more NOLA  flavor, while two more blues end the record. “Collins Cave” adds fiddle to Phil’s voice and guitar for the tale of a 1925 cave-in that trapped a spelunker named Floyd Collins in Kentucky. It’s a mournful, dark song, and the accompaniment is unique in Alvin’s oeuvre, I believe. And it might just be my favorite song on the record. “Gangster’s Blues” ends the proceedings with a short, solo blues written by Peetie Wheatstraw. It’s another gem, and I’d love to hear a record of Phil performing nothing but blues songs unaccompanied. His voice (and guitar playing) is that good. A few final seconds of Phil singing and playing piano takes the album out.

While I’ve actually owned this record for over 30 years, it had been many, many years since I’d listened to these songs again, and I believe they’ve grown in stature. But it’s also true that with a few more decades of living under my own belt, I can appreciate them more. The reissue package is nice, as well, with liner notes from LA music writer Chris Morris that include some great quotes from both Phil and his Blaster brother, Dave.

I’ll end this with one more memory of Phil Alvin, who will be 71 in 2024 and has been dealing with some health issues for the last few years. It was about six months before the pandemic reared its head, but word was that Phil had been having some respiratory issues on the tour. Nevertheless, the band showed up in Reno and, once on stage, gave it their all. Phil was unshaven and ever-so-slightly ragged, but you had to watch close to see him struggling because you certainly couldn’t hear it. Then, at one point in the show which I remember vividly, it suddenly looked more apparent that Phil was having difficulty. But just as quickly he fixed his gaze on the back wall of the club, somewhere above the crowd, dug deep, and belted out the rest of the song. It was a remarkable moment of gathering strength through a sheer love of music, a singer succeeding against long odds by doing what he was put on the planet to do.

So, yeah, I’d recommend a deep dive into the music of Phil Alvin, and this is one release that should be obscure no more.

Rating: B+

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