Primich himself has been forced to beg for scraps through no fault of his own, working through a series of now-defunct blues labels that includes Amazing, Flying Fish, and Black Top. He's been chasing and chewing on the blues since he was a kid in Gary, Indiana, and his move to Austin, Texas, about eight albums ago somehow shoved him closer to Chicago -- think Sonny Boy, not Stevie Ray. He's known for writing his own material instead of relying on standards, but his horn-driven gems could easily pass for forgotten tracks from some '50s roadhouse compilation.
For too long, Primich has been relegated to the realm of "musician's musician"; Dog House Music argues that Primich deserves big crowds, Friday night shows and requests ("Elizabeth Lee" would be a good one) shouted from the back of the room.
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