Blues Enthused - Ten Years Gone

After returning from the 2013 holiday down the Mississippi that’s recounted in the multi-part Adventures In The South series, I continued to explore the Blues in a haphazard kinda fashion, poking around in selections on emusic.com for interesting artists, as I’d already been doing for a while, and seeking out biographies of major blues figures and the like.
Reading those books fuelled an extra dimension to my interest in the Blues: it wasn’t just about the music, but also about the people and the history.  I’m an inveterate reader who studied English Literature at university, enjoyed history at school, and have always been interested in learning about stuff - and here was a whole new territory to delve into.  Over the years I’ve read biographies of Howlin’ Wolf, Buddy Guy, Etta James, the Rolling Stones, Wilko Johnson and others; I’ve read Robert Palmer’s historical survey Deep Blues, Greil Marcus’s overwritten but

Reading the blues - with one of the greats

perceptive book Mystery Train, and the companion book to Martin Scorsese’s (much maligned) TV series The Blues; I’ve read about the Great Migration of black people in the mid-20th century, from the southern states of the US to Chicago, Detroit and elsewhere in the north and west, and what it meant for the evolution of the blues; I’ve read about the Memphis music scene, Sun Records, Stax Records and more.  The list goes on, and it spread into other music scenes and disparate artists – over, under, sideways, down, to quote the Yardbirds – but that's a story for another day.
Meanwhile, a couple of months after that 2013 Mississippi holiday, I made a serendipitous discovery.  Browsing around the WH Smith newsagents in Newcastle Central Station one afternoon, killing time before my train home to Edinburgh, I stumbled across The Blues Magazine.  It was evidently a sister magazine to Classic Rock, of which I had been an irregular reader for years, and a properly professional, glossy publication.  It was Issue 9, with the cover pushing a feature about the making of Howlin’ Wolf’s London Sessions album, and I reckoned it would do very nicely to keep me company for the journey home.
The feature on the recording of the Howlin’ Wolf album referenced familiar big names who had guested on the sessions, like Eric Clapton, Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman.  Then there were articles about other artists I knew, like Bonamassa, North Mississippi Allstars, and Sammy Hagar.  But there were also pieces about people who were entirely new to me, like Aynsley Lister, Samantha Fish and Joanne Shaw Taylor.  There were pages of album reviews, of both new stuff and reissues, and gig listings that revealed there were lots of bands touring the country, many of them playing small venues that didn’t ring many bells with me.  All in all it was like travelling back in time to when I was a teenager, and would pore over a copy of Sounds, my weekly music paper of choice back in the days when the “inkies” were required reading for music fans.
The Blues Magazine became a regular buy from then on, not least for the covermount CD that came with each issue.  Through those CDs I was able to get an earful of a range of new artists, such as the aforementioned Samantha Fish and Joanne Shaw Taylor, but also King King, Walter Trout, Mike Zito, JJ Grey & Mofro, and The Temperance Movement, to name just a few.  Some of these artists obviously had more impact than others, but the magazine revealed enough
decent contemporary blues music and blues-rock to further reinvigorate my love of music, and show it was possible to see artists play live in venues more intimate than an arena – rather like the hard rock bands I’d seen in a club setting back in my late teens, at the Porterhouse in Retford, Nottinghamshire, where I lived for a few years back then.
At some point I also noticed that the magazine had started a blog – a rudimentary affair that was nothing like the kind of website that such publications would develop before very long, if they hadn’t already.  And lo and behold, as I was scanning the blog one day I noticed a short item

Different shades of The Blues Magazine

saying that a blues club was being set up in my home town of Edinburgh.  That club scene I’d been uncovering in The Blues Magazine seemed to be coming to my doorstep.
I followed up on the inception of the Edinburgh Blues Club, which looked like a carefully thought through venture.  Membership could be obtained through a subscription of £10 a month, which would provide the club with a stable base of funding with which to promote shows and pay artists, augmented by ticket sales to non-members.  That sounded pretty good to me, so along with my better half I signed up, and in early 2014 we attended the launch event, which included sets by some excellent Scottish artists I hadn't encountered before, like Jed Potts & The Hillman Hunters (pictured below).  Over the coming years the club would provide exposure for many more local musicians, but also touring artists from Britain and further afield – Ireland, the States, Denmark and Australia, for example – including some of the artists I was reading about in The Blues Magazine.  It was an unfolding treasure trove, if you like, an opportunity to see some greats artists up and close and personal, and a pathway to seeing artists in other venues in Scotland and beyond.  And of course I was buying albums by many of these artists, exposing myself to the whole landscape of blues music, its sister soul music, funk, roots music generally, and of course blues-rock – which you might say is where I came in.
As the months passed by in 2014, I began to feel an itch to write about this contemporary blues scene in some way.  This desire went back a long way, to when I was in my teens and an avid reader of the “inkies”, Britain’s weekly music papers.  My favourite was Sounds, which always catered pretty well to fans of hard rock and metal, but I would regularly dip into Melody Maker,

Jed Potts & The Hillman Hunters - Edinburgh Blues Club launch artists

Pic by Mark Holloway

NME and Record Mirror if I saw something of interest.  Could I now do what I’d have loved to do back then, and write some stuff about music, maybe for The Blues Magazine?
I submitted a couple of live reviews, but got no response.  Maybe the artists weren’t of interest, maybe the writing wasn’t great, or maybe they didn’t fit with the print deadlines, who knows?  Whatever, having started to put metaphorical pen to paper, I decided to have a go at writing a blog about blues music for a while, in the absence of an outlet elsewhere.  (I’d tried my hand at writing a music blog titled A New Day Yesterday a few years previously, but ran out of steam after a few months.)  So on 28 November 2014 I posted the first introductory piece, Journey To The Blues #1, and the next day my first live review, of London-based Detroiter Marcus Malone and his band playing in Edinburgh – and very good they were too, though the review was pretty perfunctory.  Still, the blog was now up and running.
I still hadn’t given up on The Blues Magazine though.  Having got no traction with live reviews, I submitted brief pieces on a couple of recent releases to the Reviews Editor, Henry Yates – one of Heavy Love by Duke Garwood, and the other of Modern Blues by The Waterboys.  And hey, I got a reply!  Henry said he couldn’t use them, as I really didn’t seem to like the Garwood album, and he felt the Waterboys’ album wasn’t bluesy enough.*  But he said he’d add me to his reviewers list, and get in touch again in the near future, which sounded promising.  In the meantime, I reworked the Duke Garwood and Waterboys reviews for the blog, to keep up the momentum with it.

Newly discovered gem Curtis Salgado

Henry did indeed get back to me, resulting in my first review for The Blues Magazine appearing in May 2015’s Issue 21, of the album Way Down South by Brazil’s Igor Prado Band and Delta Groove All Stars.  It was all of 140 words, but it was still a little thrill for a wannabe writer.
For the next year and a bit I continued to have one or more reviews published in each issue, often of artists I’d never heard of, some of them bang average, but some of them gems, like Malcolm Holcombe and Curtis Salgado. But it was all positive, in a minor way, encouraging me to the point that I successfully pitched a ‘Bluesbreakers’ profile of promising Edinburgh semi-acoustic trio The Rising Souls, which was published in December 2015.  Hell, I even got paid!  (Though not a lot.)
Sadly though, The Blues Magazine came to a sudden halt in after Issue 31 was published in July 2016, when the owners went bust.  After that I did stints reviewing albums for Blues Matters and the American online magazine Blues Rock Review, but one way and another it wasn’t quite the same.  I’d been keeping Blues Enthused on the go throughout though, and as I was now receiving press releases and review copies directly from publicists, record labels and independent artists there was plenty of material to generate album reviews, live reviews, interviews and other features.
So now here we are, ten whole years down the line from the start of Blues Enthused, and even longer since I first started to pursue my interest in the Blues.  It was a project really, to satisfy my curiosity about the origins of a lot of the music I loved, and it’s been a fascinating tour around the many different rooms in the House of Blues.
 
*Henry was dead right about the Duke Garwood album – that was really the point of the review.  I’d bought it on the strength of a positive write-up in the Guardian, and it was so downright depressing that I wanted to offer my own assessment.  He was probably also right that the Waterboys album wasn’t really blues in nature – but it’s a bloody good album all the same.

Davy Knowles - The Invisible Man

I don't follow the doings of Davy Knowles all that closely, to be honest, although I did think his last album What Happens Next was pretty good stuff when it came my way back in 2021.  The Manxman is based in Chicago, and doesn’t seem to venture over to Britain that often so, y’know, out of sight is out of mind and all that – which is kinda apt when his new album is titled The Invisible Man.  But when I heard the title track on YouTube I sat up and paid attention.
‘The Invisible Man’ is a slow number with a simple, stumbling kinda riff, over which our Davy adds some brooding licks.  But the thing that really grabbed me on that first listen was Knowles’

Davy Knowles strolling' the blues

vocal, which is expressive and emotive, digging into the intriguing lyric and just getting more resonant as the song progresses.  The arrangement has ear-catching dynamics, and there’s a thematic guitar break which, on a second turn around the block, opens out into an evocative solo.  Put simply, the whole thing works like a charm.
But if the title track is a dark and moody affair, the dominant vibe of the album is actually pretty upbeat, the tone set beautifully by the opener ‘Good To Know Ya’.  It’s a lightly funky thing, with brightly skipping guitar and a warm, easy-going vocal from Knowles that delivers an uplifting, open-hearted message about engaging with others: “I’ve never been the kind to walk by without a smile and a wave / And I’ve never understood those who look down their nose all the way”.
‘Around Here’ is also a tune to put a spring in your step, with its briskly revolving, Celtic-sounding riff that points firmly towards his Rory Gallagher influence.  It bounces along eagerly, with a catchy melody over a snapping beat from Mike Hansen, and Knowles’ incisive, ducking and diving solo is bracketed by a strong, measured bridge featuring a nice ‘Hey Joe’-like bass line from Tod Bowers before resolving into crashing guitar chords and cymbals. ‘Running Out Of Moonlight’ is snappy stuff too, with its jangling, quick-quick-slow riff and cantering tempo, punctuated by tumbles of drums from Hansen and sporting some zippy rock’n’roll soloing from Knowles.  
There are couple of tracks with a relaxed John Mellencamp vibe too, in the swinging ‘All My Life’ with its cheerful guitar refrain, and ‘You Love The Rain’ with its sprightly, chiming guitar belying the title, and another characterful vocal from Knowles in a lower register.  And ‘One Wrong Move’, with its spangly twirl-and-stab guitar, even delves into classic guitar-driven pop akin to The Pretenders when they were back on that chain gang.
He still manages to conjure up more variety though.  ‘Welcome To The Real World’ starts out languid, with halting chords over a quietly shimmering guitar backdrop for the verses.  It climbs into a more emotive chorus with something of a ‘Take Me To The River’ undercurrent, decorated with dabs of mournful guitar, and slows for a romantic guitar solo to polish it further. ‘No More To Weep’ chucks a slow blues into the equation, a darker tune with a low-slung tramp of a riff and another demonstrative, articulate vocal.  The aching chorus is embroidered with subtle, counterpointing guitar licks, and Knowles executes a couple of lyrically bluesy solos to put some icing on the cake.  Then the closing ‘Wonder You Are’ adds a final touch, a hushed and atmospheric love song centred on acoustic strumming and picking with just strokes of drums and minimal bass, and gilded by delicate slide shadings.
The Invisible Man is a really refreshing listen, for the songwriting, for Knowles’ admirable guitar work, and perhaps especially for the quality and diversity of his vocals, making the most of different styles of song.*  Wanna perk up your day?  Here’s the very tonic.
 
The Invisible Man is out now, and can be ordered here.

*As I suggested in this piece a while back, the singing and the song are really the heart of the matter.

Pat Fulgoni Blues Experience - Pat Fulgoni Blues Experience

Can’t say I’d heard of Pat Fulgoni  before he got in touch to share this album (released on his own ironically named label Chocolate Fireguard).  But it seems Huddersfield-based Fulgoni has been making a living as a musician, singer and producer for 30 years, most notably with the funk rock outfit Kava Kava.  Listening to the eponymous Pat Fulgoni Blues Experience, that professional pedigree is evident.  The album from his latest band is, to be sure, more useful than a chocolate fireguard.
The opening cover of Albert King’s ‘Everybody Wants to Go Heaven’ goes about its business with quiet confidence.  Fulgoni has a satisfying, velvety voice and good phrasing, occasionally giving it a bit more welly, while guitarist Jacob Beckwith deploys a suitably bluesy tone and knocks out a neat, measured solo. It’s a classy if low key electric blues sound, and enough to

Pat Fulgoni prepares to give it some welly

Pic by Mal Whichelow Photography

make it clear everyone knows what they’re doing – except perhaps for the irritating organ chord that plonks along monotonously for long spells.
Still, ‘Drifter’ confirms the initial positive impression, with a teasing bass intro from Rory Wells, subtle swinging drums from Zebedee Sylvester, and slinky piano from Sam Bolt.  It’s soulful, with hints of jazz about it, and Fulgoni delivering a more expressive vocal on a “wherever I lay my hat” style tale.  They also show the ability to stretch a tune out to five and a half minutes to good effect, Beckwith’s guitar solo shifting persuasively from chatty to piercing, while Bolt adds a liquid electric piano solo.
So far, so sophisticated.  And the same is true of ‘Keep The Blues Alive’, its Muddy Waters-like stop-time riff put over in understated fashion, bolstered by fluid bass playing, an interesting guitar solo with good variations in pace, a jazzy piano showcase, and a good blues feel to Fulgoni’s vocal, sustaining interest all the way to its dying ending.
The sophistication doesn’t always work quite so well mind you.  The jazz-funky groove of Gil Scott-Heron’s ‘Lady Day And John Coltrane’ is all very well, with its cool, stuttering drums and trip’n’stumble guitar riff, but is less bluesy in intent and a bit overlong.  ‘Confusion Blues’ is similarly restrained in its funkiness, and I makes me hungry for something disruptive to be thrown into the mix, which a swirling, Wurly-sounding organ solo doesn’t satisfy.
These “meh” moments are offset elsewhere though, by ‘Midnight Train’ for example.  The former comes with a rocking intro, and its shuffling rhythm isn’t a clickety-clack train cliché.  Wells’ bass gets up some steam, and Beckwith lets loose some howls on guitar and a solo with real cutting edge.  Meanwhile Fulgoni kicks his vocal up a few gears for some nicely done storytelling, and interjects with “Hear the drummer get wicked!” as Sylvester shows off his funky chops.  It sounds like they’re having fun.  ‘Bleeding Heart’ also takes a different turn, a short and sweet traditional blues consisting of just piano, voice and trilling harp that speeds up and slows down and includes a snazzy barrelhouse showcase from Bolt.
The real highlight though is ‘The Thrill Is Gone’, which is an excellent, thoughtful outing for just Bolt’s piano and Fulgoni’s voice. It’s a musical journey of discovery, Bolt’s piano inquisitive and impressive, and Fulgoni’s vocal control top notch as he explores different ways to bring an emotive edge to the song.  To close they then just about get away with the eight-minute length of ‘Stickin’ The Knife In Blues’, with its late night jazz bar ambience.  Fulgoni is acidic on the pointed lyric about bad behaviour and selfishness, while Beckwith contributes an elegant, splintery solo to go with Bolt’s chiming piano explorations.
Sounds to me like Fulgoni and his pals are really more jazz and funk musos than bluesmen, but that doesn’t make them bad people.  Pat Fulgoni Blues Experience may not really be my cup of cappuccino, but it’s still well done, in its refined way.  As Whispering Bob might once have put it, “nice”.
 
Pat Fulgoni Blues Experience is out now, and can be ordered here.

Elles Bailey - Cabaret Voltaire, Edinburgh, 15 November 2024

Elles Bailey and her band have just breezed through the jollification of ‘Enjoy The Ride’, the “top down, wind in my hair” opening song of tonight’s show, and as they regroup for the next tune she bends down and tries to reclaim some much needed space on the cramped stage by pushing a floor fan further to one side. At which point it promptly collapses on its back.  She pokes it a bit more, then hears the band start in on ‘Leave The Light On’, and with a laugh and a shrug abandons it to get back to her mic, just in time.
She’s not precious, is Elles.  It’s clear from the lyrics of her more serious songs that she’s a

Elles Bailey gets jiggy with it

thoughtful individual.  But there’s a delightfully goofy side to her too, throwing herself into the uptempo numbers in her set with gleeful abandon and dancing, as the saying goes, like there’s no-one watching.  And she puts a positive spin on the fact that tonight’s venue is, frankly, too small for where she’s at now, observing that it’s “cosy”, and allows her to get “up close and personal”, just the way she likes it.
But to the music, eh?  And on that front she throws the spotlight firmly onto her latest album Beneath The Neon Glow, playing all ten tracks from it in the course of the show.  And why not, when the standard of them is so consistently high?  So she follows up ‘Enjoy The Ride’ with the soulful, snappy ‘Leave The Light On’, cleverly juxtaposing images of life on the road with appreciation of the partner left behind to manage the home front, and then dials things down further with the reflective ‘Ballad Of A Broken Dream’.  For this she squeezes in next to Jonny Henderson in his keyboard to add piano to his organ, and the band set about adding some sumptuous harmonies to her sad tale of the disappointed artist whose talent goes unrecognised.
They lift the mood again with the romp of ‘1972’, the band following drummer Matthew Jones to give a supple groove to a song that would surely have belonged in the charts of that yesteryear along in carefree fashion. The best song of this first stretch though, is ‘Silhouette In A Sunset’, a beautiful ballad exploring the notion of soul mates at first sight that’s set aglow by Jonny Henderson’s keyboards, while Bailey gets to work selling the melody and the imaginative lyrics – including the reference to the old soul classic ‘Dark End Of The Street’ – in fine style.
Her commitment to her newer material is emphasised by the fact that she only includes one song from her first two studio albums, the mournful-then-strident Americana of ‘Hell Or High Water’, which ultimately builds up a good head of steam but really serves to show how far her songwriting has progressed in the five years since its release.  Meanwhile the only cover in the set is ‘Angel Of Montgomery’, selected by the audience by acclamation from four options she gives them, and a ballad which in the hands of musicians like Bailey and her band can’t miss.
Back beneath that neon glow they nail the elegiac glide of ‘Truth Ain’t Gonna Save Us’, Demi Marriner doing the acoustic strumming, allowing Joe Wilkins to add colour on electric guitar.  ‘Love Yourself’ is a relaxed slice of soul positivity, given gospel inflections via the backing vocals, Henderson’s swelling organ, and a rousing finale.  But my favourite song from this stretch of new songs is ‘If This Is Love’, which pulls the Springsteenian trick of matching an acerbic lyric to an upbeat, gutsy arrangement, Bailey getting her dancing feet going and giving it plenty on the swinging chorus.
‘If This Is Love’ is a song that demonstrates the happy knack of sounding like something you’ve known for years.  Which makes it a good scene-setter for the set closer ‘Riding Out The Storm’ a

Jonny Henderson and Elles Bailey get cosy

barnstormer on which guitarist Joe Wilkins gets to let rip and hammer home the final coda.  Mind you, I had the impression from the way a fella approached him after it finished that his playing went largely unheard in some quarters due to a sound problem.  For my part too, I was conscious that Bailey’s vocals were increasingly getting lost throughout the second half, whether due to her mic, the mix, or some other issue – disappointing, but not fatal.  And since I’m having a small grumble, I’ll add that I really wish Elles would put her phone away for the duration of the show.  It’s bad enough audience members waving their phones around these days, without the band doing it too.
Still, after cooling things off with the sombre ‘Turn Off The News’, they finish off the evening with a rip-roaring rendition of the glorious ‘Sunshine City’, driven along by Wilkins’ gutsy guitar and giving a moment in the spotlight to Marriner and her ear-bending vocal range.
A quick vox pop conducted by Bailey mid-set suggested that there were as many newcomers tonight as long-standing fans.  I’m betting that’ll be the the next time I see her too – hopefully in a room with twice the capacity.
A quick word for supporting duo Ida Mae, who delivered a sharp half hour of blues-inflected Americana, showing how much you can do with just a guitar, an electronic kick drum pedal, a tambourine and a shaker, and two perfectly blended voices.
The husband and wife pair of Chris Turpin and Stephanie Jean Ward are nobody’s neophytes, with three albums and a wealth of touring behind them, some of it in the States, and it shows in the quality of their delivery on songs like ‘My Girl Is A Heartbreak’ and ‘Long Gone And Heartworn’, full of perfect harmonies, an implicit sense of rhythm, and bursts of flaying guitar from Turpin.  I imagine a lot of audience members will be taking more interest in them, me included.

Elles Bailey is touring Britain and Ireland until 7 December, with further dates in 2025.  Full details available here.

Ten Top Tracks from . . . Samantha Fish

This one’s gonna be tricky.  Long time Blues Enthused readers (assuming there are some) will have realised a while back that Samantha Fish has become one of my favourite artists.  She’s now racked up seven albums*, plus her Death Wish Blues collaboration with Jesse Dayton, and I’ve enjoyed all of ‘em big time – though funnily enough I don’t think she has yet racked up a perfect 10 score with any of these releases.
Still, that’s a fair number of songs to choose from, and even following the Ten Top Tracks principles that this is not a league table, it’s a personal chronological overview, and I could put together a whole different list on another day, picking out just ten tunes ain’t easy. But I'm also

inclined to venture off the beaten path a bit to make things more interesting. So let’s get the ball rolling – and as ever, watch out for links to the selected tracks on YouTube, and to reviews of some of the albums too.
As with some other artists who have become personal favourites, I first came across Sam Fish in the October 2013 issue of The Blues Magazine, which ran for a few years in Britain until 2016.  There was an interview with her linked to the release of her second album Black Wind Howlin’, which made her sound interesting, and as a taster a track was included on that month’s covermount CD sampler, which was enough to make me get a download of the album.  And at some point during my first few listens to it I had an epiphany during ‘Kick Around’, the second track.
‘Kick Around’ is a relatively simple, sparky boogie, on which her producer Mike Zito also contributes guitar and backing vocals.  Samantha is giving a characterful vocal performance, when two thirds of the way through she reaches the lines “With open arms and an open heart / I’ve been here from the very start / But I won’t go down on your sinking ship no more,” and on those last two words her voice just flies!  “Holy shit,” I thought, “this girl can sing!”  But that wasn’t all, because on the sizzling guitar solo that follows – possibly by Zito, who is credited with lead guitar on the track – she whoops and hollers at regular intervals in a way that transmits innocent, spontaneous joy.  And that’s it, I was hooked.
Sadly I’ve never heard Fish play ‘Kick Around’ live, and indeed she’s very selective about the tracks she plays from her first two albums.  I get the impression she regards them as immature stuff, like she was on a learning curve and they don’t count for much.  Which is a pity, because there are good songs in different styles littered all over them.
Elsewhere on Black Wind Howlin’, for example, you’ll find the tender and rueful rejection song ‘Over You’, on which she delivers a lovely vocal and sensitive guitar work.  Also in a low key vein there’s the slinky solo acoustic outing of ‘Let’s Have Some Fun’, featuring some imaginative

chord work.  On ‘Last September’ she even knocks out some warm, Zydeco-tinged rootsiness, complete with fiddle.  But for my second pick let’s hear Samantha get heavy, with the lurching, grinding, slithering ‘Heartbreaker’ (not to be confused with the Stones' song '(Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo) Heartbreaker', which she's been known to play live now and then).  It may not be a flat-out rocker, but is still a hefty beast that highlights her early adoption of slide guitar – and is the very track that appeared on that Blues Magazine CD.
Naturally enough I soon got hold of Samantha’s debut album Runaway, and again there several gems among the 10 tracks.  The title is a rattling boogie (though Sam claims to scarcely know the words these days), and ‘Down In The Swamp’ is a tense, atmospheric heavy blues.  I’m tempted by the relaxed but dark storytelling on the twangy blues of ‘Today’s My Day’, and also by the lop-sided groove of the bohemian sounding ‘Otherside Of The Bottle’.  But I’m going to choose a song that’s very unusual in the Samantha Fish canon.  It's true that she’s done lots of slow songs, and stripped back songs, but ‘Feelin’ Alright’ is something else – a breathy, intimate and, yes, seductive performance that’s pretty damn remarkable for a kid who hadn’t quite reached 21 when she wrote and recorded it.  And that’s my general take-away from these first two albums – that whatever Samantha Fish may think of them herself, they’re way more interesting than the run of the mill blues fare you might have expected someone in her youthful shoes to produce.
Her next release, Wild Heart, is a case of what might have been.  Split almost evenly between tough blues-rockers and more sensitive tunes, when it's good it's very very good, but two sub-par tunes - ‘Road Runner’ and ‘Wild Heart’ - let the side down a bit.  To accentuate the positive though, I’m going to highlight both a rocker and a stripped back song.
The upbeat stuff here includes two heavyweight tracks that rarely see the light of her day in her live shows, ‘Turn It Up’ and ‘Show Me’.  The first features a stonkingly tough riff, and a lead guitar turn from producer Luther Dickinson as it accelerates towards its finish.  But I’m going for ‘Show Me’, with its Led-heavy descending riff, and La Fish wailing fit to bust on the clattering chorus, demonstrating that the lady really does know how to put the hammer down.

Fish really spoils us when it comes to more reflective songs on Wild Heart, including the spellbinding ‘Go Home’, with which I’ve seen her reduce an audience to stunned silence in the past, and the haunting, introspective break-up song ‘Lost Myself’.  But my favourite - I think - is the delicious cover of Junior Kimbrough’s ‘I’m In Love With You’ with which she closes the album.  It’s a simple, hypnotic song, but feels relaxed, sun-dappled, and just marvellously contented.
Chills & Fever was a bolt from the blue when it was released in 2017.  A collection of soul/R’n’B covers recorded in Detroit, it’s bursting with dance tracks and torch covers which Fish delivers with style and swagger, summed up by the sassy title track and the heartache of ‘Never Gonna Cry’.  But for sheer untrammelled fun my pick is the breathless ‘Somebody’s Always Trying’, announced by Sam with a bawled “Yea-ea-eeahhll!” worthy of Lulu on ‘Shout’, and featuring some wonderful, teasing guitar.  (By the by, I’ve never felt that the tough stomper ‘Crow Jane’, while a great song, really fitted in this collection.  Now if it had been on Wild Heart instead of those weaker tracks I mentioned . . . .)
Released later the same year, Belle Of The West was a complete contrast.  It’s a collection of semi-stripped back songs produced by Luther Dickinson once again, and featuring a bundle of his North Mississippi compadres.  Often an elegiac, understated affair, it features offbeat rhythms, back porch harmonising, and weeping violin from Lillie Mae on some tracks.  In that vein I heartily recommend the spooky, edgy ‘Don’t Say You Love Me’ and the vivid storytelling of the title track.  But I can’t resist selecting ‘Gone For Good’, one of my favourite Fish songs and often a rollicking highlight of her live show – and that being the case I’m cheating, and sharing a live, more electrified version from 2021.
After Belle Of The West Fish signed a new record deal with Rounder Records, for whom her firstouting was Kill Or Be Kind.  It opens with ‘Bulletproof’, which has become something of a signature song, and other tracks such as the dark and heavy ‘Watch It Die’ and quasi-psychedelic ‘Dream Girl’ have been mainstays of her set for long spells.  The only problem with KOBK, to my mind, is that it tailed off with the closing couple of tracks, ‘Dirty’ and ‘You Got It Bad’, both good songs but not the final exclamation mark that was required.  No matter, I want to draw your attention to two tracks in the middle of the album.  First up there’s ‘Fair-weather’, a sad song revolving around some Beatle-ish twinkling guitar notes and Sam’s vulnerable,

reflective vocal, which is notable for the fact that Fish, normally the Queen of Melisma, here keeps her delivery dead straight throughout.  Oh yeah, and there’s killer key change as a knockout punch. ‘Love Your Lies’, meanwhile, is a perky, power-poppy slice of rock’n’roll, with a delightful, scratchy little guitar break.  Did it hint at Sam having imbibed some punkish classics somewhere along the way?
Which brings us neatly to her most recent solo album Faster, on which Fish pretty much took a wrecking ball to past expectations of her, from the downright wicked album cover onwards, stirring not just New Wave-ish pop into the mix, complete with safety-pin scrabbling guitar breaks, but also electronic dance grooves and even – nurse, the screens! - a guest turn by rapper Tech N9ne.  It’s terrific fun listening to her pinballing around all these styles, though a couple of songs sag a bit in the middle.  But I’ve only got one pick left, so what’s it to be?  The gritty throb of ‘Faster’ itself?  The groove and gloss of ‘All Ice No Whiskey’?  The rattling punkishness of ‘So-Called Lover’?  All good options, but I’m going for the needling, curled lip earworm of ‘Better Be Lonely’, a tale of lust and jealousy set to pulsing bass and a snapping beat, shot through with razor-like guitar.
No room here for anything from Death Wish Blues, Samantha’s dynamic duo 2023 album with outlaw country rocker Jesse Dayton – but hey, you can’t have everything.  Some of you may also wondering why I haven’t included her much acclaimed take on ‘I Put A Spell On You’, or other live diversions such as 'War Pigs'.  Well if that’s your fancy then by all means go for it as your own personal encore.
Samantha Fish has got itchy feet, artistically.  I suspect she’s also a canny, ambitious woman who wants to expand her audience^ well beyond the borders of the blues and blues-rock, and is prepared to move fast and break things to do it.  She’s already come a long way from Runaway to Faster –  her next adventure might just see her shoot for the moon.

You can find a playlist containing all ten tracks on the Blues Enthused YouTube channel, here.

*I'm not including her independent album Live Bait, or the Girls With Guitars collaboration for Ruf Records.

^Six years ago Samantha gave a lengthy and interesting interview about her career, and particularly the business side of being a professional musician, which you can find here.

All photographs by Iain Cameron @bluesenthused.com.

Quickies - Austin Gold, Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts, and Dirty Honey

Lend me your ears, citizens - it’s time to catch up with a triple whammy of rocking sounds that I’ve got on board with recently.
 
Austin Gold – Ain’t No Saint
 
Crikey – suddenly we’re on to the fourth album by English melodic hard rockers Austin Gold, and the blighters stillhaven’t managed to break through to the level they deserve.  Shurely shomething wrong, I say, after getting my ears around Ain’t No Saint.
Title track ‘Ain’t No Saint’ is a mini-epic that sets out their stall big time.  The intro teases with subtle shining-on-crazy-diamonds guitar and keys, leading into a tense, pulsing section with breathy vocals from main man David James Smith, before fairly exploding into a crunching riff

Austin Gold - mean, moody, and melodic

embellished by swirling keys from Adam Leon, Smith’s urgent vocals and trilling lead guitar then cranking up even more pressure.
‘The Wire Defines’ follows, another bracing whack to the shell-likes, but a stylish one. Borne in on a tough riff and waves of organ, it then reveals AG's more melodic side on the AOR-styled verses, before crashing into a shout-along chorus.  Dave Smith is one of those standout singers who really grabs your attention, and between that, the surging organ and searing lead guitar, they have moments of Magnum-like grandeur.
Chief songwriter Smith is an avowed Beatles-nut. So there’s an undercurrent of Fab Four melodic sensibility on the likes of ‘Not Enough’, with its tender vocals, spangly guitar, and elegant harmonies, and also in the verses of ‘Hang Fire’, a bright and bopping affair on which those lighter verses give way to blasts of organ colliding with a big, tumbiing riff, until Smith’s wiry guitar break goes stratospheric over James Pepper’s snapping beat.
They can slow things down too, as the conversational ballad ‘End Of Our Song’ demonstrates, Smith impressing with restrained and sensitive guitar work before it gets impassioned to close.  And ‘Return’, which closes the album proper, is another widescreen outing combining flutters of bluesy guitar, aching Floyd grandeur and late period Beatles.
Picking out some other rocking highlights,  ‘Down & Outs’ is organ-drenched, with an anthemic, clap-along riff, good quiet-loud dynamics, and Smith showing off his terrific vocal range, backed by equally impressive harmonies. And if ‘Hold The Anchors’ makes a humble entrance, it then lets loose with a strident, crashing riff, soon matched by another huge chorus, with an intriguing lyric about having to make a stand in the face of challenges.
There are three bonus tracks if you want to splash out on the deluxe version, on which they seem to have experimented with a few different bells and whistles to good effect.  Which is encouraging, though there really should be enough in the ten tracks of the main album to get Austin Gold the attention they merit.  If you like hard rock of the diamond-sharp variety, seek it out.
 
Ain’t No Saint is out now, and can be ordered here.
 
 
Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts – Rogue To Redemption
 
Take a pint of Cheap Trick, a shot or three of Thin Lizzy guitar stylings and Phil Lynott phrasing, a dash of Brian May pomp and circumstance, and a sprinkling of glam rock glitter – et voila, you’ve got something close to the sound of Tuk Smith & The Restless Hearts!
The Cheap Trick resemblance reverberates right from the start with ‘Take The Long Way’, in so far as Tuk Smith’s voice is a dead ringer for Robin Zander, and he also deploys some twittering, ‘dream policing’ synth sounds.  More importantly though – even more important than the Lizzy-

Tuk Smith - he may not look glam, but he sounds it

like guitar harmonising turn – is that it’s simply a great song, with the first of numerous irresistible choruses, and typical Smith lyrics like “C’mon shoot me with some truth, I know hearts ain’t bulletproof.”
Then Smith and his pals Nigel Dupree (drums) and Matt 'Pony Boy' Curtis (bass) show that was no fluke with ‘Glorybound’ , its throbbing verses exploding into a mountainous, magnificent, roar-along chorus.  And they follow that with an imperious ‘End Of An Era’, which starts with a Brian May-toned guitar line, and is imbued with the bitter-sweet spirit, if not the sound, of Mott’s ‘Saturday Gigs’.  It features some needle-sharp Smith guitar punctuation and a neo-glam rock anthemic chorus that is - of course - a killer.
And so it goes on, across all nine tracks and 32 minutes, with Smith spewing out lyrics of underdog romance, like Rocky getting up off the canvas round after round until he can scream for Adrienne, all set to a rollicking, glam-tinged garage rock soundtrack.  ‘Little Renegade’ conjures up another stonking chorus, over a riff that rings like the bells of, er, St Trinians.  Oh, alright - Notre Dame.  ‘Blood On The Stage’ is a plaintive mash-up of ‘Wonderwall’ acoustic strumming and Def Leppard getting love bitten.  (It’s worth remembering that Leppard’s Joe Elliott is also a glam-rock fan.)  And ‘Rogue To Redemption’ comes with a Lizzy-like stop-time riff and more guitar harmonies, verses in thrall to Phil Lynott phrasing, and a soaring chorus.
It’s all topped off with the glam-rock romance of ‘When The Party’s Over’, a simple descending riff laying the foundations for another Cheap Trick-meets-Mott The Hoople thriller.
I’m reminded of the lines in the eponymous album by Boston’s The Peppermint Kicks (another rock'n'roll reference point): “I write the songs that try to please you, Something stolen, something borrowed”.  Tuk Smith is on the same page - a rock’n’roll magpie, cheerfully plundering the sounds of his heroes to spectaculr effect.  If I’d got hold of Rogue To Redemption when it was released back in August, I’d probably have drooled over it at greater length.  Still, you’ve got the message now, right?
 
Rogue To Redemption is out now.
 
 
Dirty Honey – Can’t Find The Brakes
 
Can’t Find The Brakes is a year old this month.  Sorry about that n’all, but it only crossed my path the other month, when I came across the opening track ‘Don’t Put Out The Fire’ on YouTube, and decided it had enough blues-rock soul’n’guts about it to warrant further investigation.
Listening to ‘Don’t Put Out The Fire’ now, it still justifies my enthusiasm.  It’s got a bluesy opening, a funky strutting groove, and vocalist Marc Labelle adds equal servings of soulfulness and raunch.  With ear-grabbing descending chords underlining a well-hooky chorus, it’s a butt-shaking belter.

Dirty Honey - hello to you too, chaps

Pic by Richie Davis

They keep up the good work on ‘Won’t Take Me Alive’.  Here, as on much of the album, there’s less of a Paul Rodgers soulful rock sound, as Dirty Honey make more like Aerosmith. And to be fair, the quasi-Zeppish funkiness of the twisting’n’turning riff, over more tasty grooving from Justin Smolian on bass and Jaydon Bean on drums, notches up another winner, especially with the bonus of some sinuous guitar lines from John Notto.
They don’t keep up the strike rate from gun to tape though. ‘Roam’ is a pretty stereotypical rock ballad with a big chorus, though Notto does give it some depth with an evocative guitar solo shot.  A better slowie vein is the acoustic-centred ‘Coming Home (Ballad Of The Shire)’, with its tasteful melody embellished by some neat twists, and moody post-chorus guitar.
They’re better when they rock, methinks, with a likeable early Aerosmith vibe to ‘em. So ‘Get A Little High’ has a bit of a Zep-leaning stutter to its verses, paired with a simple chorus, while Notto's slippin’n’sliding guitar interpolations and Smolian’s elasticated bass add extra seasoning.  ‘Can’t Find The Brakes’ is short and sweet, bouncing energetically around another good spiralling riff.  And ‘Ride On’ has a cowbell-tapping, blues-rocking energy to go with its lurching riff, clattering along pleasingly with a top-down, wind-in-the hair vibe.
On closing song ‘Rebel Son’, the longest track on the album, they aim for something more elaborate, piquing interest with good changes of pace and push-and-pull tension, but all in all it feels like the whole is less than the sum of its parts.
Dirty Honey have got a lot going for them.  Labelle is a strong vocalist and front man, and the musicianship is great all round.  When they’re good they’re really very good – they just need a bit more consistency.  Keep an ear out for ‘em.
 
Can’t Find The Brakes is out now on Dirt Records.

Lions In The Street - Moving Along

I’d have happily wagered a tenner that Lions In The Street were deeply familiar with the oeuvre of the Rolling Stones even if the PR bumf didn’t explicitly mention ‘em.  Whether it’s rock’n’rollin’ or inclining towards country, the influence of the Glimmer Twins on a good few of the 12 songs on Moving Along is plain as day.  Thing is though, that’s just the Lions’ starting point, like a fella striding towards the end of a 10-metre diving board – then hurling himself off with all the elegance of a drunk falling downstairs.  In a good way.
The defining thing about the Lions, I reckon, is the twin guitar action of Chris Kinnon and Sean Casey.  To be clear, the rhythm section of Jeff Kinnon on drums and Enzo Figliuzzi on bass stoke the boiler like they’ve got hellhounds on their tail, but the fire is all about the guitars.  Cop an earful of ‘Mine Ain’t Yours’ and you’ll get the drift.  Jeff Kinnon gives his kit a fearful clobbering, Figliuzzi supplies blistering bass lines, and Chris Kinnon bawls over the top in

Lions In The Street celebrate getting a discount on leather jackets

Pic by Gregory Crowe

breathless fashion, but in the end it’s the guitars that grab the attention.  This ain’t no artful Keef’n’Woody weaving, oh no.  It’s more like a couple of bruisers trying to elbow each other out of the way, sparks flying as riffs, chords and licks collide.
Amid all the turmoil they still manage to squeeze some other instruments into the mix, as on ‘Moving Along’ itself, with thudding piano adding to the  dirty, ringing cords and rumbling drums of the intro, before they put their heads down for a headlong charge, with harp and guitar squawking away together as it pounds along.  Or there’s the honking sax that elevates ‘Waiting On A Woman’, with its jangling Jack Flashy riff and bucketfuls of bobbing and weaving bass, and Chris Kinnon yelping his way through the vocal, boosted by raucous harmonies courtesy of someone or other.  On closing track ‘You’re Gonna Lose’ it’s the turn of trilling harp and piano to barge their way into the picture, competing with distorted, monolith-heavy slabs of a Quo-like churning riff over a stomping beat.  It sounds like something that’s escaped from the zoo – like a very angry elephant maybe, lead guitar blaring away towards the finish.  Who supplies all this other instrumentation isn’t clear from the production notes in front of me.  The ghost of Brian Jones maybe?
They do explore some different avenues mind you.  ‘Walking Back To You’ has a whiff of The Band about it, with Kinnon’s keening vocal and some moaning and groaning slide guitar as hallmarks, and with a scorching guitar solo leading to the fade-out  Then both ‘Gold Pour Down’ and ‘Lady Blue’ lean into more of a country vibe, the former still steady and muscular with a tinkling piano flourish at the end, the latter getting more torn and frayed, with Kinnon’s voice and attendant harmonies to the fore and yes, some twinklingly subtle guitar.  ‘Truer Now’ goes even further, with plucking banjo and swooning pedal steel like a country twang take on Zeppelin’s ‘That’s The Way’ (if you like that sort of thing).
But hey, there’s still plenty of energy to burn.  ‘Already Gone’ is hurtling rock’n’roll with a ramshackle vibe like it’s been flung against the walls in CBGB’s, apart from the sudden gasping breathers they take along the way.  I’m not so sold on the tune of ‘Shangri La’, but with its swathes of organ, and shaken’n’stirred piano in the background, the urgent delivery still drags you along whether you like it or not – and while I’ve played up their tornado-like force, the Lions are still a mighty tight combo.
‘Hey Hey Arlene’ kicks off with a ‘Johnny B Goode’ guitar intro, then cracks on like Chuck Berry amped up to the max and tearing down the highway like a bat out of hell.  And ‘All For Your Love’ goes rockin' in the free world with a menacing riff topped out by jagged chords, and with unusually restrained vocals from Chris Kinnon and a curiously Beatle-ish romantic bridge – until a screeching guitar break gets unshackled.
The lion doesn’t sleep on Moving Along, it roars like the fella at the start of MGM movies.  If you like a bit of no holds barred raunch, then brace yourself and give this a listen – it should definitely clear your sinuses.
 
Lions In The Street is released on 8 November, and can be ordered here.

Liz Jones & Broken Windows - Double Measures

Subtlety is the name of the game.  Liz Jones & Broken Windows are not here to beat you into submission.  They prefer to seduce you with patience and sophistication.  And they defy easy labels too.  So Double Measures is a smorgasbord of blues, folk, Americana and touches of jazz, with a rock’n’roll heart.  They write their own musical recipes with traditional ingredients.
Take the opening track ‘Johnny Knows The Roads’, fr’instance.  It eases in with a nagging, Tubular Bells-like intro, before spinning off in a playful tribute to the navigational skills of guitarist John Bruce, and a lament about how the traffic in Auld Reekie (ie Edinburgh, for those not in the

The deadly serious Liz Jones (she isn't really)

know) “knows how to crush your soul”.  At first blush it feels like a pretty slight song, but it rolls along happily for six minutes, in a stylish arrangement that allows Bruce to execute no less than three deft, tasteful guitar breaks till they punch up the ending.
Often though, Liz Jones’ songs occupy more thoughtful territory, as on the likes of ‘Broken Lens’ and ‘You Can Cry’.  The former drifts along on a steady rhythm, with strumming mandolin from Suzy Cargill, pinpricks of guitar from Bruce and strokes of organ from Jamie Hamilton, and an imaginative lyric about friendship and reassurance.  All of which is fine, but the clincher is the lovely melody delivered in Jones’ warm, beguiling vocal – with a swirling organ break from Hamilton as the icing on the cake.  ‘You Can Cry’ is in similar “shoulder to cry on” territory, but even more late-night-contemplative, a slow burn of a song with classy piano and guitar turns, and convincing characterisation from Jones, stretching out the notes.
This kind of roots music with elegance and depth is often their sweet spot.  ‘Lethargy’, for example, is a gently strolling tune given a rhythmic lift by Suzy Cargill’s bongos, riding a hypnotic acoustic guitar theme from Jones, spiked by stings of electric guitar from Bruce, while Jones contemplates the world – and the remains of last night’s whisky – from beneath a duvet.  But ‘Mother Earth’ is a real highlight in this vein.  Re-imagined from Jones’ 2022 solo album Bounty, it’s a calm reverie of pitter-pattering percussion, hesitant acoustic guitar and burbling electric piano, as the basis for Jones’ crooning voice.  But the real kicker is the quasi-Arabic turn it takes in the final third, with Hamilton’s keys to the fore in masterly fashion.  Gary Davidson’s drums pick up to compete with Cargill’s bongos, and Bruce’s guitar buzzes around like an unseen bee.
It's not all deep’n’meaningful fare though.  ‘Takin’ Your Time’ is a slice of tootling rock’n’roll with neat quiet/loud shading, and Welsh guitar-picker James Oliver complementing Bruce with some rockabilly fireworks.  And ‘Double Measures’ is a jaunty excursion into – gawd help us – gypsy jazz, complete with fiddle courtesy of Douglas Montgomery.  Normally I can only submit to gypsy jazz if it’s the kind of debauched wig-out perpetrated by Gogol Bordello, but fair play, Liz Jones does paint the morning-after-the-night-before picture convincingly.  Still, if I’m going to have jazziness, I prefer the woozy smoky Parisian feel of ‘Can’t Go Home’, with Jones smoochily in search of the exotic, embroidered by chiming piano and a serpentine slide break from Bruce when they pick things up.
More typical though, are ‘Bala Man’ and the closing ‘Jesus’.  The former is a tale of an acquaintance made on long train journey – Jones is always good on observation and local colour – with a resonant theme that shifts between guitar and piano, with skirls or organ, tickles of organ, and moments of muscle.  Meanwhile ‘Jesus’ is propelled by a mesmeric, trotting rhythm reinforced by Rod Kennard’s insistent bass, dropping down to just the percussion before guitar, piano and organ have a final conversation over the top.
Think Gerry Rafferty, maybe.  Think Bonnie Raitt, a little bit.  Hell, I dunno - think Highway 61 Resurfaced if you like.  Maybe I could do with some more horse power here and there to give Double Measures balance. But hey, Liz Jones is a top drawer singer and songwriter, and she and the Broken Windows produce inspired, genre-fluid roots music.
 
Double Measures is released on 8 November, and can be ordered here.