Introduction: LIVIN' BLUES AND THE NEDERBLUES BOOM: A VINYL ODYSSEY THROUGH THE LOWLANDS
So picture this: ItÕs the early 1970s in the Netherlands. The North Sea winds are howling, the streets of Den Haag are littered with empty pils flesjes, and in some smoke-filled kroeg a band is trying to sound like Muddy Waters while accidentally inventing their own beast of a genre: nederblues.
And in that storm of fuzzed-out riffs and beer-stained vocals, LivinÕ Blues stumble out of the Hague like scrappy streetfighters who traded fists for guitars. These guys werenÕt interested in imitating the British blues elite Ñ no, they wanted to out-sweat them. The result? A sound thatÕs too dirty for the BBC and too soulful for the stoned German tourists who bought their records in cramped Amsterdam winkels.
LivinÕ Blues: The HagueÕs Dirty Gift
Their 1969 debut, HellÕs Session, wasnÕt just a record Ñ it was a manifesto scribbled in distortion. By 1970 they dropped Wang Dang Doodle, a track that clawed its way into EuropeÕs underground jukeboxes, the kind of thing youÕd hear blasting from a jukebox in a Rotterdam havenbar at 2 a.m. with sailors pounding tafelbier.
Then came Bamboozle (1972), the album where the Hague scene went international in spirit, if not in charts. Pressed on Philips, these slabs of wax were cut heavy, sounding like they were mastered with a cigarette dangling off the engineerÕs lip. Flip one over and youÕll find the grooves worn down from decades in some diehard fanÕs platenkast.
Cuby + Blizzards: The Northern Preachers
But if LivinÕ Blues were the bruisers of nederblues, then Cuby + Blizzards from Drenthe were the preachers. They didnÕt come from a bustling city scene but from the quiet north, which gave their music a raw, melancholic edge. Albums like Groeten Uit Grollo (1967, still spinning in the early Õ70s) captured the Dutch countrysideÕs muddy soul.
Brainbox and the Psychedelic Crossroads
Meanwhile, in Amsterdam, Brainbox were bending blues into something trippier. Jan Akkerman, before his Focus fame, ripped guitar solos that sounded like they were beamed straight out of a UFO landing on Dam Square. Their records straddle blues-rock and prog, perfect for listeners who like their nederblues with a cosmic edge.
Barrelhouse: HaarlemÕs Secret Weapon
By 1974, when the first wave of Dutch blues shouldÕve been fading, HaarlemÕs Barrelhouse rolled in with piano-driven swagger and female vocals. Suddenly, nederblues wasnÕt just sweaty men in denim but something wider, cooler, and more dangerously alive.
The Bintangs: BeverwijkÕs Wild Dogs
And then there were the Bintangs, blasting out of Beverwijk like wild dogs whoÕd chewed their way through every Chuck Berry riff they could find. They were older than most of the Hague kids, already cutting singles in the Õ60s, but by the early Õ70s their raw R&B-into-blues-rock style gave them a cult status.
Listen to tracks like RidinÕ on the L & N and youÕll hear the sound of Dutch barrooms shaking to their foundation. The Bintangs werenÕt polished, they werenÕt slick Ñ they were pure energy, the kind of band that made you spill your bier and didnÕt care. Their longevity, still playing decades later, is proof that nederblues wasnÕt just a fad Ñ it had teeth, and the Bintangs were its bite marks.
Conclusion: Nederblues Never Died
The Dutch blues-rock scene of the early 1970s wasnÕt about polish or Billboard charts. It was about a bunch of stubborn kids from Den Haag, Assen, Haarlem, and Beverwijk who decided that the blues wasnÕt some foreign import Ñ it was something you could spill into the North Sea air and make your own.
So the next time you dig through a dusty bak at a record fair in Utrecht and spot L.B. Boogie on a Philips label, donÕt think twice. Grab it, slap it on your draaitafel, and let the ghosts of nederblues howl through your speakers.
