One of the joys of life in the 1950s and 60s was Prestige Records. Its folklore series had such luminaries as the Holy Modal Rounders, Ramblin' Jack Elliott and U "Utah" Phillips (in his first album). Its jazz line had such greats as JImmie Witherspoon and Eddie Jefferson. But its Bluesville line was beyond belief. It had managed to catch Furry Lewis when he was old and full of years -- but never better. It dragged Scrapper Blackwell back from obscurity in Indianapolis. It caught The Rev, Gary Davis when he was living in Harlem giving guitar lessons in an apartment identified only by a hand-written card reading "G. D. Avis. It churned out tunes by Lightnin' Hopkins like there was to be no tomorrow, and -- it had such unique treasures as these alleged last sessions by the redoubtable Willie McTell, rescued from a trash-pile in an Atlanta record store. I say "alleged" because, although McTell is certainly dead by now, there are many of us who noted well into the 80s -- the centuriy's, not our own -- that McTell had had the curious ability to vanish and reappear repeatedly over his career. Only now, with work of blues-scholar Richard Linster (due to be published soon in the UK) will the final details of the McTell saga be laid to rest, along with him, so-to-put. Anyway, anything by McTell is worth hearing, though some mouldy-figs might not fully approve -- asi fi it were theirs to judge either way -- of the repertory here, which is mostly old pop songs, ragtime, and vaudeville stuff. Good though -- while the short monolgue on his early life surpasseth rubies. His voice was still strong, with that unique boyish-cum-nasal tone he had from his earliest days of recording decades earlier, and of-course, his twelve-string playing was wonderful. A gem of a recording, by any standards. ( )