Quickies - Jack White, Takeaway Thieves, and Snowblind

Today's round-up brings together three different versions of rock'n'roll, from the famed Jack White to up'n'comers Takeaway Thieves and Ireland's "progressive metallers" Snowblind.

Jack White – No Name
 
I can’t say I’m a devoted Jack White fan.  Yeah, I’ve got some albums by The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, and The Dead Weather, and I admire his determination to do the unexpected and generally fuck things up to keep his audience on their toes.  But he also seems too bleedin’ clever by half at times, and his tendencies towards squawking, whiny vocals and clatter’n’bash percussion can become grating.
But still, I like this – quite a lot in fact.  It took me a while to get round to buying No Name, and to give it a proper listen, but it was worth it.
Take something like ‘Bless Yourself’, fr’instance, which marries a lead-heavy, jabbing, thudding

Shape-shifting chameleon Jack White

riff to a very Whitean herky-jerky rhythm and a more or less rapped vocal, packing plenty into three minutes. Deciphering White’s lyrics amid the maelstrom isn’t always easy, but he’s no cliché merchant, as this confrontational ‘sermon’ suggests with lines like “If god’s too busy then I’ll bless myself”.  And a little later he’s returning to religious imagery with ‘Archibishop Harold Holmes’, a preaching, testifying monologue by the eponymous pontiff, on which a churning ‘Immigrant Song’-like riff rides a rap undercurrent, supplemented by a wiry, Sixties-sounding staircase of a guitar theme.
White is the kinda guy with an encyclopaedic musical memory, and on No Name there are lots of can’t-quite-put-your-finger on it glimmerings of old songs and artists.  Are these inadvertent, or is he teasing us, like a fly fisherman casting for trout?  Cop an earful of ‘Terminal Archenemy Endling’ for example, on which spooky guitar notes lead to a melody that nods heavily towards Zeppelin’s ‘That’s The Way’, but brooding rather than sweet and pastoral.  Oh yeah, and the subsequent surging guitar riff sounds pretty Zep-like too.
Whatever, White has bashed out some cracking tunes here. ‘That’s How I’m Feeling’ flips from verses with a darkly post-punk feel to a chorus like a demolition ball, to an intriguing electronica-like guitar break.  ‘Tonight (Was A Long Time Ago)’ is bright and catchy with its stop-start riff of jaggedly resounding chords.  On ‘Underground’ he mashes up Resonator-slide Delta-style blues with perky pop reminiscent of – what, Mungo Jerry maybe?  Okay, maybe not.  But ‘Morning At Midnight’ is a great garage-rock outing, with its jabbing, stabbing riff, quiet/loud dynamics, catchy hook, and scratchy, sparky bridge – as Jack himself proclaims, “Oh yeah!”.  These are my highlights, but you may find your own among the 13 tracks, all delivered with energy and conviction.
Jack White is a chameleon, a shape-shifter, and a moving target.  But No Name, an album he chucked out with barely a whisper of PR, sounds like the work of a guy who woke up one morning from a fever dream of rock’n’roll, hit the studio, and tried to get it all down before it escaped.
 
No Name is out now on Third Man Records.
 
 
Takeaway Thieves – Diamond Point
 
I bought Diamond Point after tripping over the opening track (and single) ‘Kickin’ My Heart Around’ on YouToob, a belter of a glam-rock infused tune if ever I heard one.  It’s a raucous affair with a ringing riff, rasping vocals from Peter McLoughlin, a stonking chorus teeming with gang vocals on the title line, and a neat guitar solo from Ben Gibson that may not be especially original but fits the bill perfectly.

Takeaway Thieves get noisy and sweaty

Pic by Cyclops Gig Photos

The Thieves aren’t wedded to this glam’n’garage rock vibe across the whole of Diamond Point, but they do give it another shot with the rattling rock’n’roll of ‘True Story’, which comes with a glorious turbocharged riff, a cracker of a melody and hook, and more of those all-hands-on-deck backing vocals, plus spot on spasms of piercing, trilling lead guitar.  The following ‘Gotta Get Back’ isn’t in exactly the same space but still rocks like a bastard, kicking off with a snapping snare drum and bouncing riff, to go with McLoughlin’s in-yer-face vocals, enthusiastic grunts of “Yeah – ugh!” on the side, and good dynamics in the bridge.
‘What Do You Want’ is Def Leppard-style anthemic, sorta, with rock steady bass’n’drums from Adam Hall and Max Yates, electro-static riffs to stick your hair on end, and another tasteful bridge.  They show a subtler touch with vocal harmonies here, and there are some smart guitar harmonies too, from Gibson and his guitar buddy Neil Hunter, adding up to three minutes and 11 seconds of sharp and snazzy melodic hard rock.
Elsewhere, straight up hard rock is pretty much their go-to place, and if it doesn’t quite have the same joie de vivre, they still make a decent fist of it.  ‘I’ll Be Waiting For You’ has a pummelling riff, and rat-a-tat vocals from McLoughlin.  ‘Crazy Horse’ is crunching stuff, with a jagged, slaloming riff, racing bass and whomping drums, and wailing vocals from McLoughlin, to which Gibson adds a zinging guitar break.  ‘Sundance’ is built on a staccato riff and some supple bass from Hall, and the chorus brings a bit of a glam-edged spark culminating in some Slade-worthy crashing chords. They cool things off nicely on the bridge too, with some distorted vocals, before another mint-fresh, noodle-free solo from Gibson.
‘Gypsy’ is grinding and gutsy, but perhaps more predictable, though with the odd feisty line like “I’ve stained the carpets everywhere I’ve been”.  They also have a bash at slowing things down with ‘Find My Way Home’, which gets more interesting as they rev it up a bit, and the more ambitious closer ‘Suicide 66’, with its pseudo-Arabic epic moments, though it doesn’t really feel like their sweet spot.
Takeaway Thieves probably won’t be the next big thing, but I reckon they’d be just the job for a noisy, sweaty rock’n’roll gig.  Good luck to ‘em.
 
Diamond Point is out now on Coffee’N’Mint Records, and can be ordered here.
 
 
Snowblind – Shapes In The Trees EP
 
Safe to say this 5 track EP by Irish trio Snowblind ain’t yer typical Blues Enthused review fare.  But I’m covering it because it’s such a headscratcher.  There are some things I really like on Shapes In The Trees, and some things I really don’t – often in the same song.
Partly this is a generational thing.  See, I was a heavy metal kid back in the mists of time, but never got into speed metal, thrash metal, doom metal or anything else that’s long on stürm und drang and short on wit.  Whereas Snowblind are young enough to be very much au fait with the shouty, thud and blunder oeuvre of the likes of, say, Mastodon.  But here’s the thing – Snowblind still come up with elements that appeal to an old git like me.
So let’s consider the eight minute plus opener ‘Shapes In The Trees’.  It kicks off with twisting, spinning guitar lines from Sean Boland, interleaved with bobbing and weaving bass from Ian Mckeon and drumming from Jake McCarthy that’s thunderous to be sure, but also imaginative.

Snowblind - lumberjacks in their spare time, and they're okay

Before long though Mckeon, who I gather undertakes most of the vocal duties, is bawling, snarling and yelping in the throatiest of fashions, and they’re resorting to some pneumatic drill riffing that makes my shoulders sag.  Then after a brief quiet section and some hammer-on-anvil chords Boland embarks on an earcatching, slithering solo admirably and flexibly backed up by the rhythm boys, an approach they laterreprise (after a bit more caterwauling) to create some dazzling patterns.  And right at the end Mckeon – I assume it’s still him – reveals that he can in, in fact, damn well sing.  In these moments of imagination I get the feeling these boys have spent a lot of time listening intently to Rush, for which I applaud them heartily.
And so it goes on.  I don’t go a bundle on the stalking vibe that opens ‘Barrow-wight’, and though the backing gets interestingly spiky as they pick up the pace, Mckeon is back in sinew-straining vocal mode – until suddenly gliding into a swoopingly melodic passage.  Boland drops in an elegant courtly guitar break that could have come from Jethro Tull or Wishbone Ash.  Then after a bit of unnecessary pounding they produce an impressively strident, discordant segment, topped off with soaring, tuneful vocals.
The shortest song here, ‘Primal Spy’, features scurrying, prickly guitar and rapid fire drums, producing a taut and urgent vibe accompanying another bout of quality vocals, and a genuinely hooky chorus.  Eventually it evolves into a different animal, finding deeper, more more gears while McCarthy hammers along like his life depends on it, until they round it off neatly.
Closing track ‘Go Forth’ saddles up with some agonised vocals and a strained melody, before they break out into a headlong rush of a riff, Mckeon more or less chanting along with it in some kind of Hades-bound mantra.  But then they dive into another excellent bridge, well-paced and melodic, with Boland making good use of chorus-type effects, for a breather before another breathless riff over which Boland lays out more excellent guitar work, with crackling tension between his lead lines and the urgent riffing.  Intricate, jack-knifing stuff likes this reminds me of Diamond Head, those head-spinning riff meisters of yore.  Which is nice.
Of course, I’m not really the audience for Snowblind.  But this once-upon-a-time wearer of a badge-adorned denim jacket says they should dial up McCarthy and Mckeon’s capacity for heavy but sinuous rhythm work as the backdrop for Boland’s spiralling, dynamic guitar work, and stick to gen-yoo-wine singing.  That way lies a seriously potent force.  Honest injun.
 
Shapes In The Trees is out now and can be ordered here.

MC5 - Heavy Lifting

You gotta laugh at the fact Heavy Lifting is tagged as ‘Explicit’.  That advice seems superfluous, when MC5’s most famous moment was arguably when singer Rob Tyner bawled “Kick Out The Jams, motherfuckers!” on their 1969 live album.  Whaddya expect – a cocktail party?
Of course, the MC5 that recorded Heavy Lifting was very different from the 1969 line-up, the original members reduced to just guitarist Wayne Kramer and (on a couple of tracks) drummer Dennis Thompson.  And sadly both of them died earlier this year before the album was released, as did manager, guru and rebel John Sinclair.  So a good deal of the heavy lifting in the making of this recorded involved big-hitting guest musos like Tom Morello, Slash, Don Was (who supplied much of the bass playing) and many more, under the supervision of producer Bob Ezrin.

Wayne Kramer flies the flag for MC5

But the spirit of the original Motor City demons is alive and well when ‘Heavy Lifting’ itself limbers up with a helter-skeltering riff and ooh-ing harmonies, before erupting out of the starting gate with a crunching riff reinforced by trampolining bass.  The vocal – I’m guessing courtesy of Brad Brooks, Kramer’s co-writer across most of the 13 tracks – is an aggressive, near-ranting rap, and the guitar break is a skewering thrust.  They follow that up with ‘Barbarians At The Gate’, a hot-rails-to-hell tirade directed at the Trump-obsessed January 6 riots.  It’s all clattering drums, high octane guitars and throaty hollering, with a fierce chorus boosted by a neck-snapping ‘Problem Child’-like riff, and concludes with a Catherine Wheel showdown of sparks-flying guitar and harp.
There’s more of this kinda thing further down the line, with the (un)steady as she goes lurching groove of  ‘Black Boots’.  But Kramer and co also dig some different grooves along the way to avoid getting in a rut. ‘Change, No Change’ marries booming, blooping bass to falsetto-ish vocals, with jagged guitar/drums lightning strikes, in an off kilter slow funk groove that could be the work of Beck – and I don’t mean Jeff.  As if to show that’s no fluke, ‘I Am The Fun (Phoney)’ is another deep, behind-the-beat groove, replete with squeaking, blinking, bleeping guitar intrusions, and a chorus that puts me in mind of Parliament’s ‘Give Up The Funk (Tear The Roof Off The Sucker)’.  Hell, they even take Edwin Starr’s ‘Twenty-Five Miles’ Motown hit and rock it up with heavy duty guitars welded to its chunky, funky undercurrent.
There are more echoes of Beck on the loping ‘Blessed Release’, with its edgy, semi-slurring vocals and gritty undercurrent of stuttering guitar over a steady beat and bursts of shaker, and the closing ‘Hit It Hard’ edges closer to the realm of Prince with its loose-limbed guitar, bass’n’drums bump’n’grind, enhanced by horns and squawking female backing vocals, all coming together in a chant-along chorus and pulling in an elasticated bass break and searing sax from Joe Berry en route to the closing line of “When it comes to love baby, we’re all equal here”.
But there’s also a run of tracks that seem less intense, starting with the strutting ‘Because Of Your Car’, which edges towards the twisted-relationship territory of Alice Cooper, but with keening, double-tracked vocals and infected with a slinky Isaac Hayes soul groove.  Then ‘Boys Who Play With Matches’, ‘Blind Eye’ and ‘Can’t Be Found’ – the latter pair featuring Thompson on drums - seem like throwbacks to the garage rock origins of the original MC5.  If these power-popping tunes came from a different artist I dare say I’d like ‘em big time, but here the rough edges have been sanded down just a bit too much to fit – though ‘Can’t Be Found’, with its turbo-charged chorus and guitar solo, eventually ramps up the desired energy.
But I reckon the last word has to go to ‘The Edge Of The Switchblade’, a fist-pumping tribute to the 5’s heyday blasts in with a yelled ‘Alright!’ and whips up a storm of hard-rocking rambunction.  It’s an irresistible, guitar-squalling (Slash takes a bow here), hey-hey-hey-ing call to arms, proclaiming that “On the cutting edge you might get cut, that’s the chance you have to take”.
Wayne Kramer and his buddies were right on the cutting edge back in the day, and did indeed get cut.  It’s debatable whether Heavy Lifting is really and truly an MC5 album, when band members Rob Tyner, Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith and bassist Michael Davis are long gone.  But I tell you what, it’s a pretty shit hot homage to the band’s memory.

Heavy Lifting is out now on earMUSIC.

Tab Benoit - I Hear Thunder

Tab Benoit has been around a while – he released his first album in 1993.  He’s also a winner of multiple Blues Music Awards.  But I Hear Thunder is his first new solo release since 2011’s Medicine, an album I thoroughly enjoyed when I picked up on it a few years later.  Still, it may have been a damn long time between drinks, as the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina, but Benoit pours a good measure.
People talk about artists being a ‘triple threat’, and Tab Benoit definitely deserves the tag.  He’s a characterful singer, a great guitar player, and writes strong songs with thoughtful lyrics, as this album demonstrates with ease and charm.

Tab Benoit, spotlight kid

Pic by John Frank Photography

‘I Hear Thunder’ itself gets things moving in a brooding fashion suggestive of an approaching storm, combining a riff that sounds like a slowed down second cousin of ‘Stormbringer’ with a groaning vocal that carries a hint of anxiety.  There’s imaginative, patient soloing too, and a daring drop in even more restrained mode to add to the tension.  And having laid down that solid marker, Benoit proceeds to cover plenty bases across the remaining nine tracks.
As a Louisiana native, he does a good job of preserving Tony Joe White’s swampy legacy.  On ‘Watching The Gators Roll In’ he does it in uber-relaxed, smilingly funky fashion, snagging the ear with a coupla nifty little hooks and evocative lyrics that build on the title.  Later on ‘Why, Why’ is slowish and contemplative, but also fuzzy, behind the beat, spare and scratchy, in a way that makes it more than the sum of its parts. And the closing ‘Bayou Man’ pulses with muscular energy as Benoit sings about rescuing a girl from the bayou elements. But it’s also a metaphor for a man confident he can give a woman what she wants: “What you need sugar, is for a bayou man like me to come along – and save you.”  And it comes with a real cork-popping solo.
Benoit can take things right down too.  ‘Still Gray’ is a superb, Americana-crossover slowie on which a man looking at a faded picture can still say “In my mind, I see the colours”, the plangent vocal evoking the sense of memory to good effect, accompanied by an undercurrent of buzzing guitar notes.  There a lyrical, gentle guitar solo too, well suited to the patient delivery.  Later on ‘Overdue’ is a slow blues, a ballad, a love song – take your pick – with a shimmering guitar intro, and a soulful vocal that’s beautifully sung.
Other songs develop different grooves.  ‘The Ghost Of Gatemouth Brown’ is a sprightly take on a Bo Diddley vibe, with a quasi-shave an’ a haircut rhythm and long-time pal Anders Osborne being urged to take a first, bright’n’breezy solo, before Benoit picks up the baton in steelier, edgier fashion.  ‘Inner Child’ is slowish and moody, with a rumbling, thorny riff, and impactful turnarounds rattling with drum rolls and lively, ringing chords, with a lift into the confident chorus: “What I know is what it takes to make you smile, just enough to see the glow of your inner child”.
‘Little Queenie’ is a stuttering, upbeat bop about a guy who everyone says is out of his league next to the local beauty, with sparky, witty soloing.  Whether he keeps his girl is unclear, but you want him to stay lucky.  The following ‘I’m A Write That Down’ is an offbeat and twitching promise to an irritating acquaintance that their “Your dirty little secret’s gonna get you yet”, over an intriguing, strolling riff and a nagging bass line, enhanced by a pair of spiky then bristling solos.
The thing about Tab Benoit is that he’s sui generis, hors catégorie, a real one-off.  He can get bluesy, swampy, funky, and even country if he wants to, and he does it all effortlessly and with style.  The Bayou Man is one cool cat.
 
I Hear Thunder is out now on Whiskey Bayou Records.

The Courettes - The Soul Of . . . The Fabulous Courettes

Hey-ho, let’s go!  Where, you ask?  Back in time my friends, with the raucously retro sound of The Courettes, that’s where!
Danish-Brazilian couple Flavia and Martin Couri love the sounds of the Sixties, and they ain’t afraid to show it on their latest album The Soul Of . . . The Fabulous Courettes.  It’s an honest hommage, but they bring their own energy, slashes of darkness, and knowing nudge and wink to the songs and sounds that they generate.  It’s fun fun fun folks, it's mono 7 incher vibes to get your tush moving, and then you can catch all the clever musical allusions afterwards.
So whaddya get in this time travelling sound machine?
Whomping backbeats?  Check! Martin Couri whacks out plenty of these, starting with the

Martin and Flavia Couri - monochrome and marvellous

Pic by Soren Solkær

opening track ‘You Woo Me’, with its fairground organ, Flavia’s slinky vocal, and gloriously tumbling last line to its verses.  He goes all Spector with the rhythm on ‘Wall Of Pain’, which opens with dreamy, slurring string-like sounds then gets tied together by a bass/guitar line that owes quite a few bucks to The Four Tops’ ‘I Can’t Help Myself’ (aka ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch’).  There’s a fetching tambourine-led boom-cha-cha moment too, for extra entertainment.
You want a Wall Of Sound smacking you around the ears?  Goddamn it, you got it!  Have a listen to ‘Keep Dancing’, which wraps string sounds and twinkling guitar around another stomping beat, while they splash copious amounts of reverb everywhere.  The verses come with a sweet and yearning vocal from Flavia, but meld into a defiant chorus of “I’ll keep dancing on my own, I feel so much better now you’re dead and gone”, with a terrific hook, “hey hey” interjections from Martin, and reinforcements in the shape of tubular bells.  Yes, tubular bells!  And those chimes crop up on ‘Don’t Want You Back’ too, which opens with an echoing vocal over a throbbing beat and little else, till the chorus crashes in with a three chord descending riff.  There’s a catchy ooh-la-la doo-wopping segment too, and a catchy coda to boot.
You like a bit of cheesy girl group spoken narration?  There’s some of that on ‘Wall Of Pain’ too, and on ‘Boom Boom Boom’, a tribute to the charms of a drummer, featuring the lines “Charlie was my darling from Day One, When he’s sitting at this drums I’m under his thumb”.  Which means, as Flavia tells us in Shangri-Las mode, that some fella called Richard is getting his ring back.  The verses are very Shangri-Las Sixties pop too, simple and jangling, but the “My heart goes boom boom boom boom out of my chest” hook hints at less innocence.
And speaking of less innocent, they can crank things up into garage rock territory too.  ‘Here I Come’ is agitated and all action in a way that recalls Blondie – “I’m gonna git ya, git ya, git ya some day” sings Flavia – as they reached back for the rough and tumble of 60s stuff likes The Nerves’ ‘Hanging On The Telephone’.  Flavia’s guitar buzzes through the slam dunk riff to the punchy chorus, and she adds a razor-edged solo just to keep you on your toes.  ‘Better Without You’ is a breathless gallop too, that back beat kicking your ass while Ms Couri spits out a snarky lyric en route to the irresistible descending chorus.  It’s got a whiff of the Yardbirds in post-Clapton mode about, like ‘Heart Full Of Soul’ grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged onto a sweaty dance floor.
I could go on, and tell you about the snappy, hip-wiggling ‘SHAKE!’, or the Motown-ish ‘Stop! Doing That’, with its candy chorus, handclaps, and jangling Beach Boys guitar, or . . . ah, you get the picture.
The Soul Of . . . The Fabulous Courettes ain’t profound and it ain’t perfect. But it’s affectionate and smart and clever, and delivered with bratty chutzpah and exotic looking guitars.  Get it while it's hot!
 
The Soul Of . . . The Fabulous Courettes is out now on Damaged Goods Records, and can be ordered here.

Ronnie Baker Brooks - Blues In My DNA

Albums from Chicago bluesman Ronnie Baker Brooks don’t come along every year – his last release was 2017’s Times Have Changed, and a hell of lot of water has flowed under the world’s bridges since then.  This seems like a pity, because his personal mix of blues, funk and soul has strong roots, but isn’t stuck in the past.
Our Ronnie is, in case you didn’t know, the son of the late Chicago blues icon Lonnie Brooks, hence the title of Blues In My DNA. And Dad pops up in the brief snippet ‘Lonnie’s Blessing’, with the exhortation “Keep these blues alive!” ahead of the title track. ‘Blues In My DNA’ combines a cool, fuzzy riff with a dragging rhythm and reflective sprechgesang vocals from Brooks, as he lays out his inheritance.  It’s not just about his blues legacy from Lonnie, but the
broader story of a troubled neighbourhood, the struggles of his upbringing, and the way blues “the bad into a positive”.  And his gritty soloing captures the mood too, leaning into a few discordant notes along the way.

Ronnie Baker Brooks - the Chicago mojo still works

Pic by Jim Summeria

The most accessible track here is ‘Instant Gratification’, which opens with punchy chorus and a chunky riff that carries more than a hint of ‘Satisfaction’ and is ramped up later on. There’s stop-time riffing on the verses and plenty of guitar sizzle on a couple of solos.
But Baker also does a couple of soulful turns on ‘My Love Will Make You Do Right’ and ‘All True Man’.  His voice may not quite have a caramel sweetness on these, but it’s suitably light for the smooth Robert Cray-like stylings of the former, which may be a tad overlong but comes with a neat, melody-chasing solo.  ‘All True Man’ also has some seductive Cray leanings, but is a tougher funk strut with stinging guitar punctuation.  It’s brightened by piano embroidery around the margins from Rick Steff (as most of the tracks are), and features a piercing, clear-toned solo with distinct changes of pace.
Baker’s command of funkiness is also evident on the opener ‘I’m Feeling You’, with it’s brightly bouncing riff, pleasing melody and scattergun, zesty guitar licks.  There’s a slinky drop into a bass-led bridge, then with a grunted “Unhh” Baker sets off on a sharp guitar break. Then as the end approaches they punch up the backing to drive home an upbeat second solo.
Baker turns his hand to classic blues stylings too.  The slow and soulful ‘Accept My Love’ may not be anything exceptional, even if it’s nicely put together with its subtle backing that weaves in restrained moaning horns and strokes of Hammond organ.  But the slow blues of ‘Stuck On Stupid’ - an old cut he's chosen to reprise - is much stronger, opening with evocative lead guitar narration over ambling bass from Dave Smith and simple piano chords.  It’s about a guy trailing around after a woman who treats him like dirt, natch, and Baker captures the sense of resignation with a yearning vocal and a convincing, plaintive guitar soloing.
‘Robbing Peter To Pay Paul’ is a classic blues tale of being on your uppers, but it bumps along pleasingly, and Baker keeps the hoary old images fresh with a well delivered vocal interspersed with nippy guitar licks.  His nifty solo has a deft, light touch, and there’s a nice shift into a harmony-led conclusion.  And the closing ‘My Boo’ is a cheerful canter that takes a Wolf-ish, ‘Howlin’ For My Darlin’ type riff and lifts it into a sunnier, zippier mode, giving a fresh twist to a classic Chicago vibe.
Blues In My DNA isn’t a ground-breaking album.  But with a crystal clear production from Jim Gaines, it demonstrates that Ronnie Baker Brooks, with his effortless vocals and ability to make sparks fly from his fingertips, can continue to get the mojo working with traditional Chicago blues sounds.
 
Blues In My DNA is released on 11 October by Alligator Records.

JD Simo and Luther Dickinson - Do The Rump!

If your tastes are strictly of the blues-rock variety á la Bonamassa or Kenny Wayne Shepherd, or maybe straight up Chicago blues, then I suggest you look away now.  Do The Rump! ain’t that kinda thang.
What we have here is blues mavericks JD Simo and Luther Dickinson getting together with Simo’s drummer pal Adam Abarashoff to rehash a selection of deep blue classics in singular fashion.  Seems they basically chucked some appealing song titles in the air, found a groove or rhythm to start the engines, then riffed and wriggled around it on the fly while the tapes were rolling. The result is a magnetic, immersive journey to the centre of . . . somewhere pretty damn trippy.

Abarashoff, Simo & Dickens - as they don't call themselves

Pic by Zac Childs

To be fair, they ease you into it with the swampy strut of opening track ‘Street People’.  But by the denouement of the nearly 10-minute closer ‘Peaches’ they’re off the main drag into an Electric Ladyland of asymmetric, zig-zagging disassociation, for want of a better description.
‘Street People’ kicks off with buzzing guitar from Simo, followed by a slightly off-kilter rhythm from Abarashoff that Dickinson joins with some deliciously dirty, guttural bass to create a jagged, swampy groove. Simo’s slide guitar then slurs around an ear-catching line for a moment before his vocals make a drawling entrance.  Dickinson peels off into a different bass riff, over which Simo ducks and dives into a squawking, squeaking solo, and they’re off and running.
JJ Cale’s ‘Right Down There’ is also patient but buoyant, but with its repeated offbeat rhythm  low swooning guitar, and Simo groaning away at the simple lyric before adding a slinky, slithering slide break, it's a taken on Cale fit to give Clapton kittens.

From there on though, things start to follow a more trance-like path.  Dickinson takes over on lead guitar and vocals for ‘Lonesome Road’, calmly harmonising with himself while Simo’s bass bumps around deep below.  They surface on a lighter groove, Luther orbiting around it with a scratching, grinding, bleeping solo like a satellite transmission gone wonky.  Then ‘Come And Go With Me’ is their first outing in two-guitar-no-bass mode, the two guitars winding in and out of each other while Simo hollers the minimalist “Yeaahh, come on baby!” lyrics, the ghost of Hendrix flitting in and out of earshot here and there.
John Lee Hooker’s ‘Serves Me Right To Suffer’ opens with a stuttering rhythm and expressively plonking bass, while Simo’s guitar picks and pecks away like a bird chasing a worm.  Simo’s drawling vocal is very Hooker-like, but what really makes the track stand out is the way the guitar work mutates into sub-Saharan blues shapes, acquiring a sparkling, twinkling, twirling character over Abarashoff's relentless drum pattern.
The rhythm on ‘Do The Rump Louise’ is another wacko animal, like a three-legged horse trying to break into a trot.  A mash-up of Junior Kimbrough’s ‘Do The Rump’ and Simo channelling the lyrics of Fred McDowell’s ‘Louise’, it’s all stop-start stuttering guitars welded to a North Mississippi Hill Country groove, until Simo devolves into an impressionistic, volume knob-twiddling solo, followed by Dickinson embarking on another screeching, clanking excursion. ‘Come On’ follows, the only original fare on the album, and a perky little vignette spun off from ‘Come And Go With Me’ that's a palate cleanser before the climax of ‘Peaches’.
‘Peaches’ is an RL Burnside song that Dickinson and brother Cody tackled with North Mississippi Allstars on their album Up And Rolling.  That NMA reading was a bright and sassy duet between Dickinson and Shardé Thomas, but this is a not-quite-lazy, loping creature that sounds like a spliff was sparked in the break beforehand (and not the first one of these sessions, perhaps).  It's a low slung, two-guitar affair, with a nagging riff and drum pattern as backing for Dickinson’s languid vocal.  Then in their own good time the guitars start conversing, trading discordant flourishes and jazzy, flickering forays, before plunging into that final disintegrating coda.
There’s a sense in which a blow-by-blow account of proceedings like this is beside the point, of course.  Do The Rump! isn’t just a collection of songs.  It’s a spider’s web, spun out of country blues and more exotic ingredients, to capture the listener and cocoon them in the vibe.  Turn on and tune in, hipsters!
 
Do The Rump! is out now on Forty Below Records.

Kenny Wayne Shepherd - Dirt On My Diamonds Vol 2

I can’t say I’m an assiduous follower of Kenny Wayne Shepherd, but the opening couple of tracks on Dirt On My Diamonds Vol 2 certainly emulate the up to date kinda sounds that were often the highlights of last year’s Volume 1.
‘I Got A Woman’ features an ear-catching fuzzed up riff, with horn reinforcements, over a four-on-the-floor beat.  What’s more, it’s a more than decent tune with a strong, catchy hook, and Shepherd’s fizzing solo is icing on what’s already a tasty cake.  The good grooves here are then carried over into ‘The Middle’, which has a jabbing melody to go with some sharp lyrics about partisan politics, and Noah Hunt’s lead vocal given some chanted backing. Shepherd’s wah-wah pedal gets an outing, and there more horns, but what I really like is the overall impression of

Kenny Wayne Shepherd - "Did somebody say lunch?"

Pic by Mark Seliger

fresh-sounding backing with neat little twists and flourishes.  Producer Marshall Altman is also credited with “programming”, and maybe that’s contributing to the modern sheen audible on these tracks, if not overtly.
For me the six tracks that follow don’t quite have the same sense of purpose and identity, the penultimate cut ‘Pressure’ perhaps illustrating why.  It starts off well, with an offbeat funkiness leaning on an appealing bass’n’drums groove laid down by Kevin McCormack and Chris Layton.  But then some horn interjections arrive, as they do on most of the tracks here, and I can’t help thinking it might have been more interesting without them.  Not that this ruins things.  There’s still a satisfying hook, and Shepherd’s grinding solo conveys tension in keeping with the title.  Then they offer some interesting dynamics in the second half, with some gang vocals thrown into the mix and KWS spraying licks around in the background.  But maybe they could have been bolder, stretched the envelope a bit more.
All the same, there are good moments to be found across most of the piece.  When they get heavy on ‘Long Way Down’ it’s with a good strong riff, and if the lyric is so-so it’s still delivered with punch, emphasised by the backing vocals. ‘Never Made It To Memphis’ may not be anything special, but it’s still easy-going fun, as Shepherd’s solo adds some juice and they keep things cranked up enough to make an impression.  And there’s a similar sense of joie de vivre on the closing cover of ZZ Top’s ‘She Loves My Automobile’, a Chuck Berry-esque slice of rock’n’roll that may be a bit of a throwaway but is still entertaining, not least because Shepherd’s solo fits the vibe nicely.
Along the way the slow and melodic ‘My Guitar Is Crying’ is a bit too country rock-ish for me, with rather clichéd words, though Shepherd’s lyrical guitar break works well.  Meanwhile the loping chug of ‘Watch You Go’ is well enough executed, developing some swing as it progresses, and with Shepherd pulling out an interesting choral effect for his solo, but the gag about “I hate to see you leave but I sure do love to watch you go” has been delivered before, with more of a knowing wink, by saxman Jimmy Carpenter.
Dirt On My Diamonds Vol 2 is short’n’sharp, frequently bright and interesting album from Kenny Wayne Shepherd and co. But I reckon that with a bit more sonic adventure they could have achieved a more impressive, striking result.
 
Dirt On My Diamonds Vol 2 is out now, and can be ordered here.

The Cold Stares - The Southern

According to the PR bumf, The Cold Stares’ singer and guitarist Chris Tapp reckoned that “When it came time to record this album, I thought about everybody giving us this Southern rock tag, and decided to intentionally write songs that explore that.”  The results though, don’t sound like yer typical Black Crowing or countrified “Southern rock” peddled by many a band nowadays.  As Tapp tells it, this is because during their Kentucky youth, he and drummer bandmate Brian Mullins used to sit in with some old geezers who spent their time playing the likes of Free, Bad Company, Robin Trower and AC/DC.
So when the metaphorical needle drops on opening track ‘Horse To Water’, what you get sounds like a mash-up of a Lizzy-like stick-and-move riff with a tune redolent of, say, King King.  Which to these ears makes for a pretty good start, and with icing on the proverbial courtesy of a sizzling solo from Tapp.

The Cold Stares, badly in need of a good decorator

Pic by Alex Morgan

Tapp has quite the way with a soulful blues-rock vocal, as evidenced by ‘Blow Wind Blow’, where it’s paired with a muscular cowboy-style riff.  It’s a well-assembled thang, with a strong chorus, and an FX-treated solo from Tapp that matches the mood well.  And later he’s equally soulful on the chorus of ‘Woman’, with its Coverdale-esque melody rubbing up against a grinding riff that almost suppresses a wailing, barbed wire guitar solo – almost, but not quite.
Their ear for a whackingly good rock riff is readily apparent.  There’s the turbo-charged affair that features among the loud/quiet, fast/slow dynamics of ‘Looking For A Fight’, before a square-cut, fuzzed up animal emerges midway to bolster the third verse, and then they hit gas pedal again.  ‘Seven Ways To Sundown’ may open with some inventive low key percussion from Mullins, along with subtle, spaced out, low slung chords, but it’s not long before they drop another big riff to go with Tapp’s delivery of an earnest chorus.  It’s another good song, and sports a restrained, trippy solo that at its end has me ready to hear Hendrix saying “Comin’ to get ya”.  Then next up ‘No Love In The City Anymore’ dives into earshot with an impressive zig-zagging riff to go with pattering percussion and a sturdy chorus, before Tapp knocks out a tasty, twirling solo.
They can get down to the blues roots too though, as on ‘Coming Home’ where Tapp’s jangly acoustic sounds like banjo or mandolin.  Then it gets electrified as it progresses, and the repeated refrain worms its way into you skull.  ‘Level Floor Blues’ has a reverb-soaked, contemplative vocal over a sparse arrangement of tapping drums, glittering guitar, and bell-tolling bass from Bryce Klueh.  It creates a hypnotic mood, made more atmospheric when Tapp unwraps some moaning, groaning bluesy chords.  And final track ‘Mortality Blues’ lives up to its title, with good story-telling to go with more Resonator-like backing.  It’s simple and effective, with maybe a whiff of early Bonamassa – except Tapp is a better, more natural singer.
They show off more stylistic strings to their bow with ‘Confession’ and ‘Giving It Up’.  The former kicks off with choppy SRV-like funkiness, building into a punchy melody with more echo on the vocal.  Then Trap gets to work on an intergalactic transmission of a solo, with Mullins’ drums ramping up and Klueh’s bass grooving busily.  They get so into this, stirring up a spooky, storytelling ambience, that it begins to sound like they’ve been transported – I kid you not – from ‘By-Tor And The Snow Dog’ territory.  Meanwhile on ‘Giving It Up’ the choppy urgency again put me in mind of Stevie Ray to begin with, though with a harder edge than ‘Confession’ – or is it a distant descendant of the aforementioned Trower in upbeat mode?  We could trade comparisons all night, but whatever – it’s another winner.
You can take a horse to water, but you can’t paint it pink.  The Cold Stares may have set out to explore their Southern heritage, but on The Southern they sound like a band with honest-to-goodness classic Seventies blues-rock in their DNA.  And hey, that’s just dandy by me.
 
The Southern is out now on Mascot Records, and can be ordered here.

Check out the Blues Enthused reviews of The Cold Stares' 2023 album Voices here.
 

Steve Cropper & The Midnight Hour - Friendlytown

Houston, I have a problem.  I don’t go a bundle on the vocals supplied by Roger C. Reale on Friendlytown.  No harm to the guy, this is purely a matter of personal taste.  His singing is tuneful enough and his phrasing is okay, but he generally sounds like he’s singing from the back of his throat in a way that I find distracting.
This is a bit of a pain when you’re listening to a Steve Cropper album, which is really all about the songs and the grooves, rather than some guitar fireworks festival. Though it should be said that Cropper and co-producer/bassist Jon Tiven have roped in Billy F Gibbons as a “band member”, contributing both guitar parts and a bunch of songwriting credits to Friendlytown – hence the “Midnight Hour” moniker.

Steve Cropper and common-or-garden guitar

Pic by Stacie Huckeba

Title track 'Friendlytown' gets the show on the road, and chugs along very nicely, with a simple, stinging riff, augmented by organ and rambling bass, and counterpointed by a flickering guitar line.  It’s a good relaxed tune too.  But like I say, I'm not sold on Reale’s vocal delivery.  And on the following ‘Too Much Stress’ that problem is compounded by allowing Brian May to get behind the mic for a duet.  It’s a lightweight tune with country-rock’n’roll foundations, and May’s thin voice doesn’t give it any more heft.  He’s more at home injecting some fizz via a guitar exchange, and there’s a key change to add an extra twist, but it remains short on personality.  Queen’s ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ wasn’t a million miles away from this in style, but was turned into something memorable by Freddie Mercury camping it up big time.
Still, things buck up a bit on the following ‘Hurry Up Sundown’, a likeable song that packs a fair amount into three minutes.  A shave-and-a-haircut rhythm is accompanied by handclaps, trilling piano, and burbling horns, as the undercurrent for neat tumbling riff that’s the launchpad for a tasty pinging guitar break.  The following ‘Let’s Get Started’ is a cantering excursion in a Northern Soul direction, with attractive twiddling guitars over the four-on-the-floor beat, and if there’s not much to it melodically speaking it does have a suitable positive vibe.
‘Liars, Crooks & Clowns’ is a lurching chug reminiscent of Springsteen’s ‘Seeds’ in tone, though without the gutsiness.  It does have a more interesting lyric than some of the stuff here though, and it has to be said that Reale’s vocal sounds better too, by virtue of being in a slightly higher register.  The same is true of ‘In God We Trust’, and there’s also a buzz’n’twang combination to the guitars that works well, along with the popping guitar licks on the fade-out.  But if the simple melody is decent enough, the lyrics veer towards the dull.
The upbeat ‘Reality Check’ is better, basically reworking the riff from ‘Take Me To The River’ with a sense of urgency rather than tension, while Reale’s emphatic vocal does justice to the sentiment that “Everybody’s breathing down my neck, I can’t even cash my reality check”.
Along the way there’s also the slow blues of ‘I’ll Take Tomorrow’, on which a sparse arrangement includes wafts of organ and some low end warping and wefting lead guitar that's down to Cropper rather than Gibbons.  There’s also a Seventies Stonesy kinda feel to ‘Lay It On Down’, with buzzing rhythm guitar and spiky lead mingling over clipping drums and parping horns, the satisfying tune also enlivened by a warped twanger of a guitar break.
‘Rain On My Parade’ is an appealing smoother soul offering, with a dreamy feel and languid guitar chords, boosted by some chocolatey bass from Tiven and staccato horn punctuation, and some perky lead guitar work.  And ‘There’s Always A Catch’ is something of a back to basics affair that might have been better if they’d really committed to the quasi-Latin vibe of the intro, though it does get better in the middle when backing vocals and horns stiffen it and give it more oomph.
Thirteen tracks is too many for my liking, but Friendlytown is an entertaining enough album in spite of its various flaws – Cropper still has the grooves, and Billy Gibbons brings an additional spark on the lead guitar front.  File under friendly fun.

 
Friendlytown is out now on Provogue Records, and can be ordered here.

Quickies - Scarlet Rebels, and Brave Rival

Today’s Quickies round-up is a one-two of new generation hard rocking, with the second albums from Welsh band Scarlet Rebels and Portsmouth-based Brave Rival.
 
Scarlet Rebels – Where The Colours Meet
 
For reasons passing understanding, I’ve not come across Scarlet Rebels until now – and on the strength of Where The Colours Meet I’ve clearly been missing out.
They kick start the album with a trio of belters, in ‘Secret Drug’, ‘Let Me In’ and ‘It Was Beautiful’.  The first opens with spiky guitar á la ‘Baba O’Riley’ from lead guitarist Chris Jones, before vocalist Wayne Doyle weighs in with churning rhythm guitar.  Add in thunderous drums, surging riffs, and a simple, bang-yer-head chorus, and they’re off and running like a runaway train.  Then

Scarlet Rebels enjoy a bit of photo shoot posing

Pic by Rob Blackham

the staccato slam of ‘Let Me In’ ups the ante in a hard-rocking manner worthy of Wayward Sons, diamond-sharp rather than blunt-edged metal.  It’s a cracking, tightly assembled tune, and the guitars sound like being in the bell tower of Notre Dame while Quasimodo does his stuff, topped off with a steely solo like a skewer to the ears.  ‘It Was Beautiful’ then drifts in with delicate piano notes and hushed vocals from Doyle, but it’s not long before they’re launching into a big, Manics-like chorus, garlanded by piano in the midst of some ring’n’rip guitar work, with six string harmonies into the bargain.
If they open strong, they maybe close even stronger, with ‘Divide And Conquer’ and ‘My House My Rules’.  The former unleashes a blistering, twisting and turning Celtic-style guitar riff as the accompaniment to an overtly anti-Tory lyric.  Wayne Doyle’s vocal delivery bristles with urgency, as does the song as a whole, with more guitar harmonies and a crashing bridge adding to the fun.  Then ‘My House . . .’ is a co-write with Ricky Warwick that’s lightning-bolt electric, Doyle’s vocal jabbed home clearly and insistently, while Jones adds a suitably shrieking then melodic solo over an earthquake of drums from Gary Doyle.
They don’t let up in between these two poles either.  ‘Grace’ combines a character study lyric, a bouncing riff and an extended, agitated chorus to excellent effect, with a stiletto-like solo and an ear-catching blend of rhythm and lead guitar. And ‘Out Of Time’ is a sweeping, earnest ballad on which Wayne Doyle duets with the guesting Elles Bailey, whose vocal is given an intriguing reverb-drenched/double-tracked treatment.
The word “anthemic” could have been coined for ‘How Much Is Enough’, an exercise in making simplicity count, with mountainous, resounding chords over an uncomplicated, whacking beat, another twirl of guitar harmonies, and an irresistible soaring chorus.  Meanwhile ‘Streets Of Fire’ is a solidly hard-driving affair, sturdily anchored by Carl Oag’s bass, opening with an echoing, Celtic-tinged guitar line that turns into angular embellishment to the rhythm guitar.  And if that’s not enough, ‘Who Wants Be In Love Anyway’ is propelled by hammering bass and drums from Oag and Doyle, with prickly guitars encircling the catchy chorus, and a serrated-edge guitar solo bringing a Muse-like vibe.
If sharp, modern British hard rock is your kinda thing, Where The Colours Meet is absolutely for you.  And for me, without a shadow of a doubt.
 
Where The Colours Meet is out now on Earache Records, and can be ordered here.
 
 
Brave Rival – Fight Or Flight
 
Brave Rival’s USP is the twin lead vocal combination of Chloe Josephine and Lindsey Bonnick, and it has to be said they make good use of their clear, precise voices, dovetailing here and harmonising there.
The mingling of the two vocals works well on the opening ‘Bad Choices’, for example, stretching out the notes on the verses, stuttering riff and twangy bass, but the tongue-twisting lines of the chorus make less of a mark.  But the chorus on ‘Seventeen’ is stronger, complementing the swooping, slurring harmonies of the verses, while pummelling drums from Donna Peters reinforce the stop-start riff.
The purity of the voices also lends itself to an epic, proggy metal kinda vibe, as on ‘Insane’ for

Brave Rival get the bird's eye treatment

Pic by Rob Blackham

example.  A slower animal this one, the spangly guitar suggests mirrorball time, while the breathy vocals and harmonies create a spooky, ghostly atmosphere.  Then there’s a gear change into a big, widescreen chorus.  There’s some nice bass from Billy Dedman, strings providing dramatic counterpoint, and guitarist Ed Clarke gets suitably angsty on his guitar solo, though the high velocity fluttering segment isn’t especially individual.
There’s a similar kind of neo-Dio vibe going on with the mid-tempo ‘Blame The Voices’, which is awash with strings and comes with an attention-grabbing bass line.  There’s a crunching staccato riff in the bridge, and Clarke’s solo has a strong sense of the epic.  But it also illustrates a couple of their less positive tendencies, with overly wordy lyrics and the kitchen sink being thrown in at the end to less effect than they probably imagine.
‘Unravelling’ demonstrates the value of a bit more simplicity, with push-and-pull alternating vocals over a stop-time riff – another favoured modus operandi – and clacking wood block.  With a good hook, and waves of organ courtesy of guest Jonny Henderson, it’s catchy in a Purplish kinda way, though the female voices give it pomp rock slant.  Clarke’s guitar solo is neat, but the wordy, high-pitched bridge creates some unnecessary complication.
‘All I Can Think About’ has an acoustic opening and folky vibe, with an appealing vocal arrangement, and provides a welcome, sensitive breather – at least until they surge into tidal wave mode again, with mucho agitation.  ‘Five Years On’ explores a different angle though, with a twitching riff and funky rhythm, before veering into some interestingly wonky revolving guitar chords and an undercurrent of organ.  This time the rat-a-tat vocals work, and the bluesy guitar break is refreshing, though they still pile on the power for the chorus.
There’s some blues too in the mellow intro to the closing ‘Stars Upon My Scars’, and they maintain some wistful restraint for a while, with patient guitar weaving, the pressure building with purpose until the dam eventually breaks with an accelerating screamer of a solo from Clarke, making for a strong finish.
Brave Rival have certainly got a few things going for them, not least the combined vocals of Josephine and Bonnick.  I reckon they need to work on smarter lyrics though, and more distinctive melodies too at times.  Meantime I have a hankering for some more straight up rock’n’roll after all that epic intensity.
 
Fight Or Flight is out now, and can be ordered here.

Shemekia Copeland - Blame It On Eve

Shemekia Copeland is the grande dame of soul and blues music.  I don’t mean that she’s some elder stateswoman – she’s only 45, after all.  But there’s a quality and confidence about her that stands out.  I may have qualms about her occasional liking for a vibrato vocal, and now and then a song can go beyond the serious to the po-faced.  But Blame It On Eve shows just why she’s racked up so many awards over the years.
Copeland may not write her own material, but her writing team led by John Hahn and producerr Will Kimbrough give her plenty of variety to work with, and regardless of the style she can deliver the goods.  There’s both wit and seriousness in the soul-leaning rock’n’roll of the title track for example, contemplating how women have got it in the neck since the Garden of Eden right up to

Shemekia Copeland - one tough mother

Pic by Janet Mama Tagayama

how “the worst winds come from D.C., stealing rights from you and me”, the sassy delivery underlined by the comic low end of Jim Hoke’s parping sax.
There’s more humour in the old-fashioned drawling blues of ‘Wine O’Clock’, Copeland declaring with conviction “Think I’ll have another glass, the world can kiss my ass”, accompanied by a squawking, slurring guitar solo from Kimbrough.
Boogie inflections are a go-to vibe.  ‘Tough Mother’ is a testament to female resilience that starts off low-key but gradually gathers itself into a strut via injections of slide, the lyrics making a neat contrast between knives on the street and a life-saving surgeon’s knife while Kimbrough and the guesting Luther Dickinson conjure up some impressive guitar interplay.  There are country tinges to the boogie on ‘Cadillac Blue’, the title referencing a partner’s eye colour for a contemplation of inter-racial relationship full of woozy lap steel stirrings from Jerry Douglas.
Hey, we even get a couple of outings for Shemekia Copeland the rock chick on ‘Broken High Heels’ and ‘Is There Anybody Up There?’.  The former is a slice of snap, crackle and wop-bop-a-loo-bop on which Copeland has fun giving the finger to contemporary troubles, “Dancing in the graveyard in broken high heels” over burbling bass and Kimbrough contriving Stonesy interweaving guitar parts.  On ‘Is There Anybody Up There?’ she enlists vocal support from Alejandro Escovedo on a sturdily rocking commentary on anger and hate that asks if there is a god who can help – an unusual opening for doubt when black roots music generally cleaves strongly to faith.
And indeed ‘Tell The Devil’ is a gospel-country hoot on which Copeland insists “Tell the devil to go to hell, I gave my soul to Jesus”, backed up by tobogganing slide guitar, while the closing ‘Heaven Help Us All’ is essentially a prayer for peace and harmony.  Starting off cool and relaxed, with a clipped guitar tone and lowing organ in the background, it builds through gospel backing vocals from Lisa Oliver Gray and Odessa Settles that arrive at halfway and should really have been maxed out to give a pleasant but lightweight song a grand finale.
Copeland’s stylistic range is underscored by her sensitive delivery on ‘Only Miss You All The Time’, with its lovely, minimalist arrangement, even if trite lines like “Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine / That’s why God created wine” feel misplaced.  ‘Belle Sorciere’ is even more sparsely atmospheric, Copland crooning the tragic story of a Creole woman and Cajun man, leaning on gentle guitar, moaning cello, and harmonies from co-writer Pascal Danae.
‘Tee Tot Payne’ goes back to the roots for a mandolin-twirling, Dobro-twanging account, over a simple, lazy beat, of the Alabama busker who taught Hank Williams the blues.  But more satisfying is the cover of the bump’n’grind blues ‘Down On Bended Knee’, written by Copeland’s father Johnny.  Over a sackful of stinging guitar licks, Copeland knocks out a quavering, emotive vocal begging her baby to come back, matched by a wrenching solo from Kimbrough.
Blame It On Eve isn’t a game-changing, revolutionary album.  You’ll need to look elsewhere for that.  But it is an assertive, intelligent showcase for the range of blues’n’roots music, delivered by a singer and team who know exactly what they’re about.  And Shemekia Copeland continues to bring an indefinable regal quality to proceedings.
 
Blame It On Eve is released on 30 August by Alligator Records.

The Georgia Thunderbolts - Rise Above It All

Any band that can take Frankie Miller’s ‘Ain’t Got No Money’ and give it their own confident, assertive, convincing treatment is going to get my vote, and The Georgia Thunderbolts do just that on Rise Above It All, taking it strong and steady with lurching drums and slide guitar, while T.J. Lyle knocks out a raspingly soulful vocal ahead of a razor-like guitar break.  It’s a belter.
And I gotta tell you, this is not a one-off, no siree.  This is a goddamn mutha of an album.
Take ‘Rock And Roll Record’, fr’instance.  It comes with a very Bad Company-like quiet piano opening, also from Lyle in tandem with his soulful voice, and then huge shards of guitar arrive to plant a haymaker on your noggin.  “This is a rock’n’roll record, this is a rock’n’roll song,” Lyle hollers, and he sure ain’t kidding, as a guitar break like the howling hounds of Hades makes clear.

The Georgia Thunderbolts - black and white photograph, technicolour album

Pic by Jim Arbogast

Or take ‘She’s Gonna Get It’, a crunching rocker taken at a gallop, with a surging riff given extra edge by scurrying guitar licks, reinforced by pounding drums from Bristol Perry and earth-moving bass from Zach Everett, and topped off with a brief but supercharged guitar solo.  It could be something Sammy Hagar would knock out after a few good belts of tequila.
‘Little Jim’ is a tense rumble over a suspenseful rhythm, with an urgent story-telling vocal from Lyle about a miscarriage of justice and its emotional scars, until guitar fireworks collide with the insistent, jabbing coda.  On ‘Stand Up’ subterranean bass triggers a slamming riff as a prelude to a nagging melody, Lyle’s vocal robust and reverberating over spiky guitar commentary, with clever cross-cutting backing vocals, decorated by guitar breaks that respectively trill and squeal.  You get the picture?
Not that the Thunderbolts are without subtlety.  Both ‘Gonna Shine’ and ‘Moonlight Play’ are growers with more of a Southern rock slant, without ever being derivative.  The first is a decent tune whose hook gradually gains traction, with twangy guitar moments and neat bursts of backing vox, but most of all chugging rhythm guitar and bass that eventually become clamorous and guttural.  The latter starts off quietly, Lyle singing with feeling over picked and strummed guitar.  Then those guitars wielded by Riley Couzzourt and Logan Tolbert start ringing out in typically muscular fashion – they’re a real dynamic duo this pair, though one of ‘em gets a star turn here with a screaming final solo over thunderous drums and descending chords.
Oh yeah, I was talking about subtlety wasn’t I?  Well okay, there’s the romantic ‘Wait’, all shimmering acoustic and slide guitar, with melodic bass lines from Everett, spot-on double tracked vocals from Lyle, and neat guitar harmonies to boot.  ‘Crawling Back To You’ is romantic too, a ballad with country-ish leanings and an aching vocal from Lyle, plus a distinctive solo full of quiver an’ shiver that I suspect comes from a baritone guitar in the hands of Couzzort.  And for even more variety there’s the rootsy, bluesy Ron Davies song ‘It Ain’t Easy’ (much covered, including by Bowie on Ziggy Stardust), with hints of both field song and Americana amid slippery slide guitar and oompah-like bass, and a raucous chorus on which the gang insist that “It ain’t easy going to heaven when you’re going down”.
But I come back to the kind of soulful rocking vibe that imbues ‘Whiskey Talkin’’, with its rolling guitar riff and Lyle’s soulful voice well to the fore. He may have a slightly higher register than Paul Rodgers, and doesn’t quite have the same resonance, but he has the same kind of feel, and that’s a hell of a compliment.  And to cap things off there’s ‘Pricetag’, which rides in with piledriving drums and fuzzed up guitars on a steamrollering riff, into which they slip some wordless moaning harmonies while Lyle gets his wail on.  And then it gets gut-wrenchingly cacophonous to finish.
Full credit too to producers Richard O. Young and David Barrick, who capture a dense sound where sometimes everyone seems to be fighting for space, in particular nailing a whomping drum sound for Bristol Perry.
Could a few songs could do with sharper hooks to make them more impactful?  Maybe, but fuck it - who wants to nit-pick?  Rise Above It All is a stonkingly good team effort, and The Georgia Thunderbolts might just be as titanic as their name suggests.  Give ‘em a blast from your speakers right now!
 
Rise Above It All is out now on Mascot Records, and is available here.

Caitlin Krisko & The Broadcast - Blueprints EP

This 6-track EP from Caitlin Krisko & The Broadcast ain't the first rodeo for the North Carolina-based band, who released the album Lost My Sight in 2020.  But I suspect it’ll be an introductory calling card for lots of people, me included.  And on the strength of Blueprints, I’m pleased to make their acquaintance.
Opening track ‘Devil On Your Side’ has a loping beat and funky ticking guitar, to which Caitlin Krisko adds a cool vocal on the neat melody, before it flips into a sparky chorus.  Maybe it doesn’t flow perfectly, but with its bass-bumping, reverb-heavy bridge it packs a lot into less than

Caitlin Krisko in live broadcast mode

Pic by Manny Manson

three minutes, and develops an appealingly modern soul feel.
‘Blue Monday’ picks up that modern soul baton and produces a slinky crossover vibe with a clever arrangement that serves up twirls of twangy guitar and chattering backing vocals, and if Krisko’s voice isn’t unique it’s still good enough to live up to the material with ease.
‘Piece Of You’ is even better, with a fizzing and popping guitar riff from Aaron Austin and quick-pulsing bass from William Seymour over Michael W Davis’ crisp beat, with plenty of oomph in the chorus.  Austin adds some swanky guitar filigrees, and here Krisko’s vocals show off more guts and power.  These opening tracks feel like tentative, but promising, first steps towards the kind of glossy, up-to-the-minute blues-rock crossovers pursued by Samantha Fish.
On the second half of the EP the Broadcast continue to keep up the good work, but in a more traditional vein.  ‘Haunted By You’ is a blues ballad, taken real slow and decorated by some swooning guitar, while Krisko sings with poise, feeling and good phrasing.  Paradoxically it’s neatly put together, with piano remarks and flutters of guitar, but they still keep it simple, allowing the strength of Krisko’s sensitive delivery to come through.
‘Operator’ is fun soul with some echoes of Motown – but only distantly amid the sleek combination of funky bass and shimmers of guitar, while Krisko injects a dash of urgency into her vocal.  There’s a snazzy bridge too, and a spiky, needle-sharp guitar break from Austin to add more zip.
The aching soul of ‘Have To Say Goodbye’ could be a torch song, but I reckon Krisko is actually reflecting – here and on other tracks – on the death of her mother in 2023.  In that context the plaintive edge to her vocal comes over as both apt and convincing, while Austin is also on the money with a guitar solo that patiently works around the melody.
With Blueprints it’s clear that Caitlin Krisko & The Broadcast have blues and soul roots, but also the smarts to make sure they don’t get stuck in the past.  I’m hoping their next outing will show further evolution.
 
The Blueprints EP is out now, and can be ordered here.

Bywater Call - Shepherd

Know what “bywater” means?  Yer average dictionary says it’s an uncommon surname indicating that one’s ancestors lived “by the water”.  Profound, eh?  And yep, Bywater Call hail from Toronto, on the shores of Lake Ontario.  But on the evidence of Shepherd, their spiritual home is closer to the waters of the Bayou, the Everglades, and Lake Pontchartrain.
The subtleties of songs like ‘Colours’ and ‘For All We Know’ carry hints of the Tedeschi Trucks Band.  ‘Colours’ is a slow build, rootsy and with subtle waves of horns to go with the watery ripplings of keys from John Kervin – organ or Fender Rhodes? – while Meghan Parnell’s vocals

Bywater Call get immersed in joyous Southern sounds

Pic by Denis Carpentier

are patient but assertive.  ‘For All We Know’ also opens in subdued mode, with rolling acoustic guitar lines underpinning Parnell’s contemplative, not-entirely-unlike-Susan-Tedeschi vocal. Then a couple of minutes in its shifts gear, adding clip-clopping drums, subtle slide remarks from Dave Barnes, and drifts of horns from Stephen Dyte (trumpet and valve trombone) and Julian Nalli (saxophones).  Later on ‘Now And Never’ sets forth with rubber band bass from Mike Meusel and quirky percussion, and also evolves in a sashaying, funky TTB kinda direction, embellished by a squirrelling sax break and yelping trumpet from Dyte, though it goes on a bit in spite of further interjections.
But there’s also the stamp of New Orleans on several tracks, often triggered by those horns.‘Sweet Maria’ sounds like it has its roots in the chorus of the Stones' ‘Sweet Virginia’, but whereas the Stones track was all rag-tag-and-bobtail Americana, here we have pumped up, hand-clapping soul that’s undoubtedly catchy but could be just a bit generic if it weren’t for the slithering interventions and colourings from the horns that steer things in a NOLA direction.  On ‘Roll’ piano and horns create a slinky vibe to begin with, Parnell’s voice easing around the backing in relaxed fashion, until the tune builds, the horns swelling and swirling, taking Parnell’s voice with them.  The following ‘Turn It Around’ is initiated by tripping, jazzy drums, bumps of bass and stabs of guitar, but soon enough squealing, slippery horns arrive to give it echoes of New Orleans second-line funk, and there’s a clever segment of tinkling percussion to add an extra twinkle to its beer-fuelled, down-home rootsy sound.
On closing track ‘Sign Of Peace’ though, they burst out go of a ‘Try A Little Tenderness’-like solemn horn intro to go the whole tuba-parping, drum-paradiddling, N’Awlins-style hog, marching off down the road with Parnell out front delivering a gospellated vocal.  Then a slowed down verse precedes jangling piano break and an even more uptempo eruption of hollering vocals, and Blues Brothers-worthy gospel-like backing vocals.  In short, it’s joyous stuff.
They can rock a bit too, mind you, not least on the opening ‘Everybody Knows’.  Led off by the crunching guitar riff from Dave Barnes, it’s got a punchy chorus that’s holler-ready for Parnell, but is also embroidered by tinkly piano and yelping slide remarks, plus a loose-limbed verse in readiness for some raucous closing competition between Barnes’ guitar and the vocal refrain.
‘Holler’ has a bluesier feel, with tickling guitar over a whomping kick drum as the foundation for a forthright vocal from Parnell, while groaning horns add a sense of menace until it rouses itself two-thirds of the way through, developing a cantering rhythm en route to a crunching finale.
‘As If’ takes a funkier turn, led by more low-twanging bass activity from Meusel and shuffling drums from Bruce McCarthy, who does a good job of bringing variety across the piece.  A spiralling guitar riff devolves into funky wah-wah that collides with horn punctuation, while Meghan Parnell gets raunchy out front and Barnes’ squelchy guitar solo adds another funk element.
There’s a lot to enjoy on Shepherd, with plenty of soul in those horns and Meghan Parnell’s vocals, sympathetic keys and guitar from Kervin and Barnes, and a vibrant rhythm section in Meusel and McCarthy.  Maybe the material could do with a few more killer-diller moments, and some of their quiet-to-loud builds are a mite predictable, though these are small gripes.  But Bywater Call still provide a plenty-satisfying soundtrack to those Southern waterways.
 
Shepherd is out now and is available here in North America, and here in the UK and Europe.