Red Nelson, while having a pretty familiar sounding name, isn’t the best known blues player from the pre-war era. Instead, the guy’s lived (or his recordings, at least) in near obscurity since he began recording music a lifetime ago. That’s not set to change anytime soon – if ever. But his lone snatch of sides has recently made its way into the digital age. Yeah, In Chronological Order (1935-47) has lived on cd for a while, as issued through the impossible to track down Old Tramp Records, as well as on LP as released by Document. Perhaps the recently digitized blues player’s prepared for something of a renaissance. Perhaps not.

Either way, Nelson, who recorded under a few pseudonyms, including something like Dirty Red recorded more as an accompanist than anything else. Working with Cripple Clarence Lofton as well as Lonnie Johnson early on in his career points toward’s Nelson’s ability on the six string. His natural acumen – as well as smooth voice – just didn’t translate into a wealth of studio time, leading other players through his own compositions.

What In Chronological Order does, though, is to set the guitarist’s recordings in a sort of historical context following him through solo guitar numbers up through his being accompanied by drums and piano. “Long Ago Blues” is a slowly paced lament with Nelson looking back at his various failures. He’s lost his baby and she’s apparently not around anywhere he goes. It’s a pretty traditional lyric and sentiment. Delivered in Nelson’s trembling alto and accompanied by sprightly piano, the track ranks pretty high up there on a list of auld tymey blues. Granted, the song seems befitting a performance in a barroom more than on a front porch, but hearing the guy talk about heartache and whiskey isn’t ever going to be a let down.

A bit further on, “Black Gal Stomp” reels up and ranks as an early understanding of what would eventually go into founding what Alan Freed would term rock and roll. All of the ingredients are included – a bit of drums shuffling behind a piano chording a basic melody and Nelson flinging off a few lead lines and then giving the pianist a bit of space. The recording coming before the end of the forties only points to the wealth of works people have either missed or ignored when trying to track rock’s general trajectory. Maybe Nelson isn’t the most stunning practitioner you’re likely to hear. But he’s no slouch.