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.

Elles Bailey - Beneath The Neon Glow

Warmth. Joy. Sensitivity.  These are three of the qualities – doubtless you could name others - that have contributed to Elles Bailey’s rise in recent years.  They’re personal qualities that she’s successfully invested in her music, and they’re all present and correct on new album Beneath The Neon Glow.
That sense of joy imbues opening track ‘Enjoy The Ride’, a sprightly testament to following your dreams and making the most of the journey, characterised by lightly tripping drums, spangles of guitar, and now trademark quality harmonies. Joe Wilkins adds a skating slide solo, and all the while Bailey captures the spirit with her lead vocal, punching home the short and sweet chorus.

Elles Bailey strikes a pose - there's nothing to it

Pic by Rob Blackham

It’s there a few tracks later too on ‘1972’, a very 70s-sounding slice of country-funkiness given a distinctive feel by Matthew Jones’ laid back, shuffling percussion and Matthew Waer’s elasticated bass, enriched by sax from Pete Fraser, over which Bailey delivers a relaxed vocal to cap the sunny vibe.
At the other end of the spectrum, ‘Silhouette In A Sunset’ is a standout that displays Bailey’s sensitivity, a ballad of the kind that Bailey nailed on her last album Shining In The Half-Light.  A contemplation of deep human connection, it sports the wonderfully allusive lines “I’ll see you when we meet, at the dark end of the street / Or at the end of the galaxy”, Bailey’s patience and phrasing capturing the mood perfectly. The backing is subtle, with tickles of piano from Jonny Henderson, what sounds like moans of lap steel guitar but is probably Joe Wilkins conjuring up something atmospheric on guitar, and towards the end another appealing bass groove from Waer.
That slippery guitar sound crops up again on the even deeper set ballad ‘Let It Burn’, contributing to the evocative, dramatic mood alongside Bailey’s aching, reverb-heavy vocal and some soaring, wordless backing vocals, the song elevated further by Wilkins’ stinging, ringing solo.
‘Ballad Of A Broken Dream’ is a ballad in the sense of story-telling rather than tempo, downbeat but taken at a clip. Now and then I’ve remarked that Bailey could surely produce a great version of Elles Bailey’s ‘Pearl’s A Singer’, and here she actually contrives a similar lyrical tale.  But whereas the strength of ‘Pearl . . .’ was its elegiac honky-tonk simplicity, Bailey’s ‘Ballad’ is more intricate, lyrically and musically, and stylistically if it stems from Americana it ends up a mainstream crossover.
“Crossover” in fact, is a key factor in Bailey’s development.  The finger-snapping ‘Leave The Light On’ contemplates the tension between liberty and tolerance in a relationship, and does so with an intent that you could compare to, say, Gerry Rafferty - rootsy but not stuck in a pigeonhole.  ‘If This Is Love’ is even better, with its chunky guitar chords and great opening line, “You got the face in a line-up that I’ll never forget”.  The chorus is irresistible, and full of typical Bailey joie de vivre, and the song is boosted by a brief but gutsy organ break from Henderson. At her best, with a song like this, Bailey is really serving up old-fashioned, quality pop music that goes beyond genre.  And it has that signature warmth too, the naturalness of someone who can rock the onstage glad-rags alright, but is still the smiling and winking girl next door you've known since whenever.
Maybe ‘Truth Ain’t Gonna Save Us’ and the strolling ‘Love Yourself’ don’t quite reach the same level as the best material here, but they’re still enjoyable enough.  And Bailey saves a trump card for last with the plangent ballad ‘Turn Off The News’, a heartfelt reflection about how the world beyond our front door can be a sad and dangerous place, that’s all about Bailey conveying the emotion, which she does in spades.
Beneath The Neon Glow doesn’t quite leap out of the speakers as a humdinger in the way that Shining In The Half-Light did.  But it’s still a damn good successor, underlining that Elles Bailey is here to stay, deepening her sound and growing her audience at every step.
 
Beneath The Neon Glow is released by Cooking Vinyl Records on 9 August, and can be ordered here.

The Commoners - Restless

Rock an’ freakin’ Roll.
When The Commoners put their minds to it, that’s what they deliver, and with bells on.  Sure, they make noises about being influenced by Southern rock, but I’m pleased to say that for the most part the Canadian quintet have a distinct sound of their own – and it’s pretty damn good.
Take the opening couple of tracks here, ‘Devil Teasin’ Me’ and ‘Shake You Off’.  The first rides in on a tumbling riff and pummelling bass, to which lead singer and rhythm guitarist Chris Medhurst adds an emphatic vocal, reinforced by resonant backing vox.  Their command of dynamics is

The Commoners - the glamour of being on the road in, er, Camden

Pic by Rob Blackham

good too, emphasised by the downshift into a tense bridge.  Then ‘Shake You Off’ raises the stakes even higher with an irresistible two-part riff and a crunching delivery driven along by explosive drums from Adam Cannon (yes, really).  Medhurst’s vocal is again convincingly urgent, and Ross Hayes Citrullo adds a scorching solo that really deserves to be longer.  But hell, when they’re done the track finishes with a BLAM that is thoroughly satisfying.
The title track shows some variety, opening with acoustic strumming embellished with a piercing guitar line, while Medhurst offers a gentler vocal.  But by the time Citrullo launches into a sweeping slide solo, punctuated by punchy drum combinations, they’ve roused themselves into impassioned mode.
Citrullo reaches for his slide again later, on ‘Body And Soul’, and it soon becomes clear that ‘Restless’ was just laying down a marker for what they’re capable of.  A slower, more sultry animal, it’s given real atmosphere by Citrullo’s woozy, epic-leaning slide playing, along with the irregular pulse of Ben Spiller’s bass and Cannon’s pounding drums, while Medhurst’s vocal gets all steamed up and shifts in rhythm keep you on the hook.  It all adds up to an impressive display of light and shade.
A couple of tracks do show off their Southern influences.  The reflective, elegiac ‘See You Again’ carries echoes of the Black Crowes talking to angels, but still works out well as it picks up a bit around the swirls of organ from Miles Evans-Branagh and an ear-catching ascending bridge. And the mellow, mid-paced ‘Too Soon To Know You’ also shows some Southern leanings, with good guitar lines from Citrulllo and subtle drumming from Cannon in its latter segment, though for my money it’s overlong, even if it does get more energised towards the end.
But they get my juices flowing more readily with the likes of ‘Gone Without Warning’, all ringing guitars and pedal-to-the-metal rhythm section, while Medhurst’s vocal gets good and percussive at times.  Pity they slow down for the chorus, to my mind, but they make up for it when Citrullo’s solo goes into overdrive.  And they follow that up with ‘Who Are You’, all tub-thumping drums and knuckle-dusting guitar chords.  They rope in backing vocal cavalry to support Medhurst as he leads from the front in shakin’ an’ shiverin’ fashion, and Evans-Branagh adds more vivid colour with jangling piano and stabs and flurries of organ.  It’s a song that underlines their total conviction.
Speaking of conviction, they make the brave call of closing the album with the dying fall of ‘All That We Have’.  It’s a patient, sensitive tune, relying on just gentle acoustic guitar and low-key vocals – without any hokey Southern intonations, by the by – and it makes for a compelling arrivederci.
My advice to The Commoners is this.  Never mind aspiring to be some kinda next big Southern rock thing. Just be your authentic selves, because on the strength of Restless that’s plenty good enough. Rock an’ freakin’ roll, fellas.
 
Restless is out now on Gypsy Soul Records, and can be ordered here.