The serious boogie fan hasn't really ridden the rails of this genre until a trip has been taken on the Boogie Express, an early-'50s track with a guitar solo that has influenced many a bluesman and early rocker. The group behind the recording is pretty obscure, especially in its supposed hometown of Birmingham, AL. It seems a surprising fate for a band that featured two superb talents: the pianist, singer, and arranger Viola Watkins and guitarist Jimmy Shirley, the fingers behind the aforementioned solo. One interesting explanation might lie in the homophobic nature of Birmingham, a city where check stops aimed at harassing gay bar clientele is routine. The conservative citizenry may have simply not wanted the city identified with a band called the Birmingham Boogie Boys which happened to be led by a woman. Which opens up another mystery as to why Watkins would want to appear in a group billed in this fashion; wouldn't Viola Watkins the Birmingham Boogie Boys have made more sense? She had been recording since the '40s, with hits such as There Goes My Heart, It Must Be Love, Real Fine Man, and Really Real, so could have easily pushed for such a billing.

The mysteries of the Boogie Express are hardly as intriguing as some of the fictional plots that have taken place aboard the Orient Express, and are solved with a bit of background information about the session itself. The recording date was produced by Joe Davis, who at this point had been in the music business as a label manager, A&R man, producer, publisher, and songwriter for about 30 years. In the fall of 1952, Davis had put out an instrumental hit by a group named the Blues Chasers. The group was actually an ad hoc backup group for a singer who hadn't shown up for her recording session. Davis mulled over the situation and decided to make more instrumental records this way, except to not bother hiring a singer next time out. Boogie Express was the result, and so was Boogie Woogie on a Saturday Nite. Both were instrumental cover versions of rhythm & blues hits from the '40s. Watkins did not sing, so could easily be regarded as more of a session player on the tune, but this would not be the truth. She did actually lead the combo, and it would be equally wrong to assume she had little to do with the music because she happened to keep her mouth shut. Both sides show strong evidence of her superb arranging abilities, as well as the glaring spotlight cast on Shirley's amazing riffing. An early trend setter on the electric guitar, he was better-known for his recordings with jazz vocal giants such as Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald, but like many players of his ilk, he could really get down and blue when the situation required it.

Despite all this great talent and the brilliant boogie that was recorded, there is reason to believe this session did not go well. The original plan was to record four songs, but only two were finished. This is not a good sign, although it does mean the Birmingham Boogie Boys are part of the special pantheon that have recorded less songs than the total number of words in the band's name. The two tunes got around, though; Davis licensed the original Superdisc issues to MGM. The latter label did not promote Watkins as being involved with the disc, despite the fact that she had recorded for MGM previously, and with much success. "An instrumental combo with fire in its make-up," the record company ads raved, concluding with the instructions to "Have fun with this first recording." A bit like "eat, drink, for tomorrow we die" since it was also the group's last. The lack of recognition in the city of the band's name can be explained, at least. Nobody in the group, nor the group itself, had the slightest thing to do with Birmingham. ~ Eugene Chadbourne, Rovi