A consummate wit and earthy tone basically serves to sum up not just the musical career of Jack Dupree, but the man as well. His storied life here on earth, with its fair share of pratfalls also included a litany of one liners and notable quotes from a man who may not have been the most proficient or original pianist, but used the talents that he possessed to play music for the better part of seventy years. And even if some of his recordings seemed to have escaped those devotees of boogie woogie, Dupree’s trail of recordings served to enamor players in every genre – including a young Brian Jones who would go on to found the Rolling Stones.

Dupree’s guttural proficiency on the keyboard was bestowed on the NOLA resident relatively early and prompted him to move to Chicago where he encountered everyone from Tampa Red to Scrapper Blackwell, LeRoy Carr and even Joe Lois, who apparently convinced Dupree of his own physical prowess. And after a few conversations, Dupree began a brief, yet successful career in the ring. Winning a Golden Gloves title in addition to a few others gave the pianist the nickname that he’d use for the rest of his music career.

Although his style wouldn’t progress and turn into too much more than what it was in the ‘40s, Dupree’s career was interrupted by World War II as he served as a cook in the Navy. Subsequent to being freed from a Japanese POW camp where he spent two years, Dupree returned home with a wealth of life experience that was more than ready to be distilled in song. Of course, some of the songs that he would become associated with are considered standards in some arenas – including “Junker’s Blues,” which includes pretty blatant allusions to weed smoking. And although Dupree apparently wasn’t the heaviest drinker or substance abuser, his repeated renditions of the song was always genuine and entertaining to say the least.

It’s that track that begins the live ’71 album Blues At Montreux where Dupree finds himself in the company of none other than sax soul belter King Curtis. The pairing is more than a sensible one despite the difference in age and styles each player is associated with. But considering that Curtis was more than adept at working out any blues the recording clicks on four cylinders from beginning to end.

Blues At Montreux may have come towards the latter portion of Dupree’s career, but in his 60s here, the pianist is still a consistent performer despite his frequent deviation from any concept of standard time. Occasionally, his elongated or truncated choruses find his band and Curtis pausing for a bit longer than would be expected as everyone waits to hear what Dupree’s prone to jump into next. This live disc might not be the best way in which to be introduced to his catalog, but there’re enough songs on here that work to good affect to make the performance an interesting one even if it’s not his best.