Bonnie Raitt still follows her own tune

Bonnie Raitt had not enjoyed a proper hiatus since her launch on the Boston folk and blues club circuit in the late '60s. Four decades later, the year-long retreat she allowed herself after 2009's BonTaj Roulet tour with bluesman Taj Mahal was hardly a dream vacation. She attended to the estate of her older brother Steve, who died of brain cancer, and gave herself time to grieve not only his death, but the earlier losses of her parents and the passing of her close friend, Texas musician Stephen Bruton. "It was not a relaxing time," Raitt says. "It was a transformational time, and it was necessary." REVIEW: 'Slipstream' goes with the flow On Slipstream, out Tuesday, the aching vocals in her ballads and unfettered guitar solos in spirited funk-blues tunes speak to the pain and progress she experienced in that recess. Interrupting a long cycle of recording and touring, Raitt holed up in her Bay Area home, tabling all career and charity activities. "I was surprisingly tired and overwhelmed," says Raitt, 62, sipping red bush tea in a bustling vegan-friendly eatery. "My brother had fought for eight years and then got another tumor. He was blind and paralyzed. I really felt I needed to take time off after he died. It was wrenching. "It's amazing how the scaffolding of your everyday life and your job hold you together," she says. "Grief therapy brought up other things that needed to be addressed, childhood stuff. It was time to look at it. At first I thought, maybe I'll buy an easel and get my watercolors out or sculpt with clay or go to some exotic place. But I realized you can't run away from things you're feeling. I'm lucky. A lot of people don't have the luxury of unplugging from a job." Remodeling her home proved therapeutic, as did spending time with friends, family and her boyfriend of seven years (she's mum on his identity). Fired up by a Jackson Browne concert, Raitt finally returned to the studio. "I got the bug again," she says. "I had no idea how much I missed it until I got in there." She initially teamed with Americana artist Joe Henry in his Pasadena studio basement with his session players and guitarist Bill Frisell. Henry produced four of Slipstream's tracks, including his God Only Knows and blues-drenched renditions of Bob Dylan's Million Miles and Standing in the Doorway. "It was an organic, magnetic soul match," she says of her collaboration with Henry. "I love the production on his records, his taste, his vibe. His songwriting is among the best I've ever heard." Raitt produced the balance of the album with her road band, cutting a reggae-leaning cover of Gerry Rafferty's Right Down the Line (promoted by her first video in 14 years), the sadly beautiful Not Cause I Wanted To, a rowdy take on Randall Bramblett's Used to Rule the World (Raitt's Occupy movement anthem) and assorted funk, rockabilly and blues tunes, all with liberal doses of guitar. "I got a taste for it from Gnawin' On It," she says, referring to her exuberant lick-swapping duet with Roy Rogers on 2002's Silver Lining. "I'm not going to turn into a guitar hero, but I wanted to let go and indulge myself." Her first studio album since 2005's Souls Alike and 16th since her 1971 self-titled debut earned a four-star review in Rolling Stone, which dubbed it "a loose and adventurous reminder of everything she does well." Raitt, who last topped the chart in 1994, peaked at No. 19 with Souls. But charts are a poor barometer of her talent, says Rolling Stone contributing editor Anthony DeCurtis. "Even though she's been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Bonnie Raitt is still vastly underrated both as a singer and a guitarist," DeCurtis says. "That's because, without making any fuss about it, she hasn't been willing to conform to anyone's expectations. People think they know what she's about, but every time I listen to her I'm stunned by how fresh and surprising she can be. "She has a highly distinctive sound but loves to challenge herself, as she does here, working with Joe Henry to riveting effect," he says. "She never just goes through the motions, and Slipstream can stand proudly alongside her best work." Steeped in roots music, stuck on Delta masters and stoked by retro soul, Raitt continues to ply a sassy, earthy brand of pop-blues. Yet she's no musical Luddite. She's running her own label, embracing the digital revolution, cheering genre-fusing remixers and even indulging a YouTube fixation. "At 3 a.m., I'm still up watching videos of jazz heroes I never saw live," she says. "It's so thrilling. And not just the music. The Internet is changing the future of fund-raising. I'm thrilled by the potential." Slipstream is the maiden release on her Redwing label, established after her deal with Capitol expired in 2005. The digital age's rising piracy and shrinking CD sales forced major labels to retool business models and sent many artists in search of fresher marketing routes. Capitol/EMI offered Raitt an attractive deal, and competing labels courted her, but she was eager to test new waters. "EMI was in a lot of upheaval," she says. "I went through seven presidents in my time there. "It wasn't an ego thing," Raitt says. "It was more practical. Once we break even, it's better math. With the new ways of getting music out, you don't need a label if you're a legacy artist." Raitt finds herself in the curious position of both cult artist and mainstream star. Warner Bros. released her 1971 debut and dropped her in 1986 after a loyal fan base didn't translate into airplay. She soared to platinum heights with 1989's Nick of Time, 1991's Luck of the Draw and 1994's Longing in Their Hearts. Then sales tapered. In an era dominated by synthetic dance beats, Raitt has confidence in the vitality and visibility of America's musical roots. "The world I live in is benefiting from things like satellite radio," she says. "Jazz and blues fests are everywhere now, and Americana is going strong on college radio. What I'm hearing is an appreciation of real music." Her definition isn't confined to purists. A champion of seminal R&B greats, Raitt also cheers such fusion artists as French nu jazz musician St. Germain, jazz-rap act Us3 and Tangle Eye, which blended Alan Lomax field recordings with hip-hop, funk and bluegrass. "There are no limits now," she says. "Still, nobody breaks my heart more than Irish musicians." Her Slipstream tour of 80-plus dates kicks off May 1, and Raitt can't wait. "I'm looking forward to being in a traveling circus again," she says. "Once I'm on the road, I get some peace and quiet. I ride my bike, I meditate. I'm ready to go. I love my band, and I'm really proud of this music." A lifelong activist, Raitt also is eager to ramp up her pro-environment, anti-nuke efforts, though she doesn't use the stage as a soapbox. "I'm really careful about not slamming my politics home in my shows, but I don't try to hide either," says Raitt, who enlists environmental groups to distribute information at venues. "The arts can be a great way to bring people together. I don't preach from the stage. I try to stay positive on solutions." That's getting tougher in a polarized climate and heated presidential election battle that she refers to as "the auction." "I worry about the lack of campaign reform," Raitt says. "Nothing's been done about Wall Street, and people are discouraged. There used to be an informed center. I wish we could come together and really discuss issues from all perspectives. I used to fantasize about having moderated teach-ins." Raitt hasn't lost faith in the possibility of a green, ethical, peaceful planet. But she has stopped wading in the sea of gloomy news. "I have to be careful what I read, because I've had too much sadness, and I can't take it anymore," she says. "Besides, there are so many great things to be happy about."