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 ‘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, but 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.

Quickies - Quinn Sullivan, Chris Cain, Lara Price and Alex Voysey

Catching up on some recent releases from different shades of the blues spectrum.

Quinn Sullivan – Salvation
 
What manner of artist is Quinn Sullivan?  The guy’s tastes seem to be eclectic, and for me the results when he hits the ‘Record’ button are also a bit mixed.
With his pleasant, airy voice he does a good job on the kinda ‘Boys Of Summer’ West Coast rock vibe of opener ‘Dark Love’.  With its lurching beat and chunky guitar sound it’s a grabber

Quinn Sullivan avoids being blinded by the light

Pic by Jim Arbogast

from the start, and has a fun electric piano break as a precursor to Sullivan letting rip – well, a bit – on guitar.  In fact it’s a bit of a recurring theme that our Quinn tends to wear his guitar chops lightly, though his scintillating solo on ‘Don’t Wanna Die Today’ hints at his ability to wig out.  But on the closing live recording of ‘Eyesight To The Blind’, an upbeat take with funk leanings, he really does let himself go, knocking out some fizzing guitar work and squealing soloing over the galloping drums and high revving bass.  More of this kinda sound would be a good thing, sez I.
There’s a taste of it in the staccato rocker ‘Rise Up Children’, which with Sullivan’s light vocals and bursts of slide over a whacking backbeat puts me in mind of Tyler Bryant.  The funk aspect also comes over well on ‘Salvation (Make Me Wanna Pray)’ and ‘I Can’t Stay (And You Can’t Go)’, the former featuring squelchy, Vocoder-like guitar licks, and the latter sporting a taut guitar break leading to an equally taut, almost tough bridge, before some more ear-catching guitar work to close.
Some stuff appeals less though.  The sophisticated blue-eyed soul of ‘Once Upon A Lie’ is done well, but isn’t my kinda thing.  ‘Better In Love’ is soft and slow, and what you might call a winsome sort of love song – or maybe just a bit soppy.  And ‘Half My Heart’ is Sullivan’s all too obvious shot at an ersatz Beatles ballad, on which the weeping guitar intro may work but the drippy lyric doesn’t.
Quinn Sullivan is a talented young guy, evident in some of the songs here.  But while I’m all for variety, Salvation is just a bit scattergun.  A bit more focus would be welcome, to better harness Sullivan’s obvious strengths.
 
Salvation is out now on Provogue/Mascot Label Group, and can be ordered here.

Chris Cain – Good Intentions Gone Bad
 
Less is more.  The whole is less than the sum of its parts.  These are the axioms that spring to mind listening to the latest album from Chris Cain.
Chris Cain’s guitar tone is as zesty as it was on his 2021 album Raisin’ Cain, and he can still turn a nifty lyrical phrase when he puts his mind to it, but his voice shows signs of creaking a bit at times here.
Sometimes vocal wear and tear can be an asset in a blues setting, mind you.  Cain’s delivery of

Chris Cain and a guitar called Melba

Pic by Laura Carbone

the pessimistic lyric on the downbeat ‘Waiting For The Sun To Rise’ is convincing, and his atmospheric, sustain-heavy solo also serves the song well, along with the Mellotron strings contributed by producer Kid Andersen.  But while some of Cain’s own piano playing, some doesn’t, and a snatch of Bach-like organ is plain distracting.  It’s an example of inconsistency that raises its head more than once.
But hey, there are good moments to be found all the same.  Opener ‘Too Little Too Late’ is a brisk and bright jump blues with an amusing lyric, though it runs out of gas a bit.  ‘Still Drinking Straight Tequila’ is funky fare led by Kid Andersen’s deep down bass lines, with a lyric about a guy’s lifestyle improvements – one or two elements excepted. With a neat contrast between verse and chorus, the latter blessed with neat backing vocals from Lisa Andersen, and a fun guitar solo, it may not be a masterpiece but it works.  The following ‘Bad Dream’ is a slow blues with tense, pinging guitar that has real character, with Cain adding some restrained tinkling piano over Andersen’s thoughtful, plonking bass, and the vocal is on the money here too.  Later, ‘Never Let You Break My Heart’ is another slow blues, about relationship breakdown and self-respect, with pointed lyrics and a good melody, plus some nifty guitar licks and a good electric piano solo from Cain.  It’s worth saying too, that the bass playing on the album, shared largely by Kid Andersen and Cody Wright, is often what gives proceedings a bit of zip.
Cain’s actual guitar solo on ‘Never Let You Break My Heart’ feels like pretty standard fare though, an issue that crops up from time to time.  Listening to the likes of ‘I Was Wrong’ and ‘Had About All I Can Take’ for example, there’s a sense that as sharp as Cain’s playing can be, some of the solos across the album aren’t sufficiently rooted in the individual songs.Ultimately, Good Intentions Gone Bad is a so-so album, which could have done with some judicious pruning to give it more definition and less repetition.  Less is more, and all that.
 
Good Intentions Gone Bad is out now on Alligator Records.

Lara Price – Half And Half

Lara Price gets halfway up the stairs

Pic by Brynn Osborn

Titled to reflect the fact that half the album was recorded in the San Francisco Bay Area where Lara Price has her musical roots, and half in Austin, Texas where she now plies her trade, it seems to me that Half & Half is a half-decaff first outing from Lara Price.
The girl can certainly sing though, as she demonstrates on a couple of tasteful covers.  Duke Ellington’s ‘Solitude’ is very much Great American Songbook territory, with jazz guitar accompaniment, sweetly sung with good phrasing from Price – nicely done, if you like that sort of thing.  The soulful torch song ‘Trouble, Heartache, Sadness’, penned by Ann Peebles and Don Bryant, is better though.  It’s smoochy and slinky, nicely put together with swooning female backing vocals, and Price absolutely does it justice, ultimately embellished by muted, conversational guitar and piano from Mike Schermer and Baxter Robertson that’s sadly allowed to fade out without further input from Price.
‘Fools Like Me’ and ‘Days Ago’ go in a different, country-inflected direction, the first a brief but bubbly outbreak of honky tonk, with chugging guitar and chiming piano, the second a slice of boogie with a suspenseful chorus and bridge, and an apparently uncredited male singer adding a ‘Walking In Memphis’ twist of soul.  Speaking of soul, the closing ‘Heart On A String’ is a catchy enough soul ditty, with Robertson’s piano and organ to the fore and Endre Tarczy’s bass bopping about elastically en route to an arresting key change.
In between these tunes though, several tracks feel inconsequential, lacking in oomph or sturdy hooks.  So you might say that half of Half & Half hits the spot, and half finds Lara Price trying to settle on her style.  There’s potential there, but it’s still to be fully realised.

 
Half & Half is out now on Gulf Coast Records.

Alex Voysey – Blues In Isolation
 
On the evidence of this second album, British guitarist and singer Alex Voysey is, shall we say, rather more comfortable with the strumming than the humming. Which is a pity, because when he chances on some material where he’s more comfortable in both zones, things bumble along quite nicely.
On the country-folkish blues of ‘Start Talking’, for example, he may not shoot the lights out as a singer, but his English intonation fits the jaunty charm of the tune and its revolving acoustic guitar line quite well.  Similarly the closing ‘Whiskey And Wine’ paints a picture of domestic harmony with easy conviction, and accordingly Voysey’s vocal seems to acquire more authenticity, and his solo is a good fit too, playing around with the melody.  Meanwhile ‘Forbidden Rock’n’Roll Jam’ seems to benefit from a don't give a damn, let the good times roll

Alex Voysey gets down to some illicit rock'n'roll jamming

kinda attitude.  Reflecting on rumours of illicit pandemic music parties, Voysey and friends get stuck in and thrive on the resulting energy, with some vibrant guitar, enthusiastic backing vocals from Alison Jiear, scudding bass from Ben Hands, and Voysey ultimately coming over all Chuck Berry.
‘Watch The Sky’ starts with mellow electric piano from Andy Allpass, and stirs some interest as Voysey’s guitar gets gutsy and starts to sting, reaching for an epic feel even if the melody isn’t always convincing.  Voysey’s solo is decent though, emphasising direction rather than getting carried away with possibilities.  ‘Old Shop On The Corner’ is a slow ‘un that hints at decent story-telling, but while the mood is captured, it doesn’t fulfil its potential as Voysey’s guitar work veers from a good feel for the material into some less potent flurries of high speed fluttering.
And so it goes, really.  ‘Down The Long Dark Road’ has some spangly guitar phases and thematic lead lines, but loses focus, while ‘Life You Lead’ has a satisfying Celtic-tinged guitar riff, but not much else to fire the imagination.  ‘You Better Come Back Home’ has a staccato funk vibe, with well-grooved bass and drums from Hands and Paul Arthurs respectively, but Voysey’s guitar fills work better than his flickering solo.  His sparky effort on the funky blues of ‘Away To Mississippi’ is better, and Allpass augments it with a good organ break, but the song itself isn’t that arresting.
Alex Voysey is clearly interested in different strands of blues and rock, but the challenge is for him to produce more material that allows him to express himself with real quality.
 
Blues In Isolation is out now, and can be ordered here.

Albert Castiglia - Righteous Souls

Regular readers will know that now and then I look askance at albums stuffed with special guests, especially if they rely heavily on covers of blues classics.  Seems to me that all too often these are conceived of as a marketing wheeze, to drum up interest from fans of other artists. Happily though, this isn’t the case with Righteous Souls, the new album from Albert Castiglia, which features a bundle of his blues compadres.  This ain’t some two-bit, going-through-the-motions collection.
For one thing, the eleven tracks include four originals, ensuring there’s an authentic Castiglian flavour.  For another, the covers are (mostly) lesser known fare, so still fresh on the ear.  And between 'em they combine to deliver a tasty range of blues of different hues.
Taking those originals first then, ‘Centerline’ kicks things off in gritty, punchy fashion, with booming bass courtesy of Jerry Jemmott to go with shuffling drums from Derrick “D’Mar” Martin.

Albert Castiglia waits patiently for a crowd of special guests to get on the bus

Pic by Eduardo Whaite

Castiglia’s nagging vocal is complemented by loose-limbed backing from Lisa Andersen, and on the guest front Popa Chubby pops up to add extra fuel to our Albert’s own guitar fire.  And right from the off, kudos to producer/engineer Kid Andersen for the meaty sound.
Taking a different tack, ‘Mama, I Love You’ is a duet with Kevin Burt that takes a sombre look at the lot of black lives in modern America.  “Aint no sense, ain’t no reason,” says Castiglia, “For folks of colour, it’s open season.”  And he backs up his anger with a couple of scorching guitar solos, the second even more fiery than the first, which also serve to demonstrate that when it comes to epic picking he doesn’t need any assistance.
Penultimate track ‘No Tears Left To Cry' is a country-ish stroll with echoes of JJ Cale, with simple drums complemented by bobbling bass as the backing for a downbeat lyric.  “I don’t trust happiness, never have and never will,” sings Castiglia, while Gary Hoey chips in with – I’m guessing – the frequent injections of squeaking slide.
Only the chugalong ‘Till They Take It All Away’ falls a little short of AC’s best writing, and even then it has a bit of dig both musically and lyrically, as he complains about ordinary folk getting screwed over.  It comes with a fair smattering of wah-wah guitar, which I reckon is the contribution of Ally Venable, who has a penchant for the pedal.
Several of the covers lean in a Chicago blues direction, two of them penned by Castiglia’s erstwhile boss Junior Wells, naturally enough featuring harmonica contributions from Rick Estrin. ‘Come On In This House’ comes over like a slowed down take on Howlin’ Wolf’s ‘Howlin’ For My Darlin’’, Estrin’s harp swelling and moaning alongside Castiglia’s emphatic, growlin’an’hootin’ vocal.  Jim Pugh adds chiming barroom piano, and Kid Anderson unpacks his twang to bring a different six-string flavour.  The closing ‘What My Mama Told Me’ is in a more rootin’, tootin’ Chicago vein, with squawling harp from Estrin, rasping vocals from Castiglia, and Monster Mike Welch contributing bouts of quivering, jangling, needle-sharp guitar.
‘Get Down To The Nitty Gritty’, written by Muddy Waters alumnus Luther ‘Snake’ Johnson, is good fun pure and simple – beer-hollering, hip-wiggling fun, with behind the beat drums, walking bass, and sparkling, scattergun guitar licks.  It’s certainly more of a novelty than ‘You Can’t Judge A Book By The Cover’.  Still, Rayne Castiglia duets nicely with her dad here, her easy-going drawl contrasting with his growl, and there’s some stinging guitar soloing too, though I’m not convinced fellow guest Christone “Kingfish” Ingram actually adds much to the equation.
ZZ Hill’s ‘You Were Wrong’ features some skedaddling sax work from Jimmy Carpenter, and a blistering organ solo from Pugh, over hyperactive bass and a jittery rhythm, but its fade-out ending suggests a slight lack of conviction.  That isn’t the case with Buddy Guy’s ‘The Dollar Done Fell’ though, a dark and moody funk outing with cavernous, twitchy bass and some slinky backing vocals from Ms Andersen, plus guitar exchanges between Castiglia and Josh Smith that start out nimble then get urgently conversational to reflect the cost of living crisis subject matter.
Which just leaves the distinctly Jimmy Buffet-like, Hispanic-tinged country-soul of ‘All Our Past Times’, on which Castiglia finds an excellent vocal foil in Danielle Nicole as they dramatize a couple turning around – maybe – a relationship that’s poised by the exit door.  Pugh adds swirling organ, and Joe Bonamassa drops by – of course he does – to add a second solo that’s good, but doesn’t necessarily add much to Castiglia’s own showing.
So yeah, Righteous Souls may have a couple of lesser moments, but it’s still a solid, stimulating outing. I'd go so far as to say it could even make the “special guests” concept respectable - maybe.
 
Righteous Souls is out now on Gulf Coast Records.

Connolly Hayes - Remember Me

Some things just slip under the radar, y’know.  Like London band Connolly Hayes, fr’instance. Earlier this year they won a UK Blues Award as Emerging Act Of The Year, and seems this debut album came out on 14 June.  News to me, until some PR bumf crossed my path the week after that.  But hey, better late than never, because Remember Me is decidedly worth the candle.
That PR e-mail came with a link to opening track ‘Frank’s Song’, and one listen to that was enough to make me sit bolt upright and pay attention.  It rides a whip-cracking blues-rock riff with a can’t-quite-put-your-finger-on-it familiarity, topped off with urgent, double-barrelled vocals from Jess Hayes and guitarist.  I’m logging a cymbal-crashing, bass-burbling collision between Bad Company and southern rock – and by the latter I don’t mean something of the ubiquitous Black Crowes-imitating variety.

Connolly Hayes - happiness is a thumbs up from Blues Enthused

There’re fewer of those Bad Co echoes as the album progresses, but that’s no matter.  When they dial it down on ‘Secret’, into a more soulful Southern domain of tripping drums and sweetly intertwined guitars from Connolly and six-string buddy Richard Clark, I’m still on board.  There’s a shimmying looseness about the sound that makes me dredge up the name Little Feat from the memory banks, and it’s embellished with a low-pitched, bird-like warbling guitar solo. And then there’s Jess Hayes’ voice, which takes the lead here (till Connolly chips in on the second verse), and brings to mind the likes of Gráinne Duffy and Susan Tedeschi – pretty positive comparisons, and she brings her own brand of grit too.
And lo, a couple of tracks later they cover Tedeschi Trucks Band’s ‘Midnight In Harlem’.  Yep, Hayes handles the sensitivity of the vocal in Tedeschi-like fashion alright, over an ensemble performance of subtle, laid back accompaniment, twinkly guitar work brushing up against washes of organ from Joe Mac, and occasional vocal harmonies from some of the guys.  They take their time over it to good effect, with some plenty dynamic guitar explorations along the way, counterpointed by ear-catching bass promptings from Barnard.
It's not the only cover here.  The album closes with a live take on ‘Love The One You’re With’, which is right in their wheelhouse.  It comes with a touch of funk, and jaunty, jittery guitars, while Hayes and Connolly alternate vocals.  Wilder’s supple drumming twirls along with a kinda Latin feel, and in the slowed down bridge Connolly also gets to show off a bit vocally with some wordless soulfulness.
Doing classic covers justice is all very well, but it’s the way their originals stand up to be counted that really impresses me.  ‘Something’s Gotta Matter’ combines swirling slide, staccato chords and a crisp beat to propel Hayes’ soulful vocal. The lyrics may not set the heather on fire, but there’s an uplifting middle eight that leads to a darting, stop-start guitar break, and they go through the gears for the ending.  ‘Remember Me’ itself has an offbeat, twitching rhythm and easy-going, teasing guitar to go with its tension-and-release melody.  They contrive a neat change-up into the bridge, and then some nifty interwoven guitar lines, one of Connolly and Hayes going with slick slide to offer different tones.  Oh yeah, and Hayes continues to do the business.
As she does on the sweetly aching opening to ‘Hung Up On Your Love’, a patient thing with a simple chorus and another guitar break that starts off low-slung before going on to scintillate.  Not for the first time, they flirt with dragging it out too long, but keep enough plates spinning to hold the attention, peaking with another bravura guitar solo.
‘Tired Of This Love’, meantime, is a slow blues – and genuinely weary-sounding, in a good way. To begin with there’s just guitar and Hayes’ voice, then organ, drums and bass weigh in carefully, while Connolly takes a turn at the mic.  The chorus is subtle, tasteful, and harmony-draped, and there’s another subtle, understated solo to bathe in before Hayes soars her soulful way to the close.
I’m sorry I didn’t cotton on to Connolly Hayes sooner.  This lot know what they’re doing, and they do it with panache.  Remember Me is a fine debut, so go get introduced.
 
Remember Me is out now, and can be ordered here.

Ten Top Tracks from . . . Mike Zito

C’mon everybody take a trip with me, down the Mississippi from St Louis – a clunky rhyme that doesn’t even work if you’re an American, I must admit.  Whatever, we’re going on the latest Ten Top Tracks journey, to celebrate the work of St Louis-born bluesman Mike Zito.  As ever, this isn’t an attempt at some definitive ranking of Zito’s best songs, but a personal guide that could take in a whole different batch of material if I compiled it tomorrow.  As ever, look out for the links to the ten selected tracks on YouTube - and there are links to reviews of some of the albums too.

Mike Zito - a blues artist and more

Now, I described Mike Zito as a bluesman in that opening paragraph, and the guy sure can play the blues.  But the thing with Zito is that he’s not purely a blues guy, as he observed to the website Rock & Blues Muse earlier this year:  “I don’t really think I’m completely a blues artist.  I mean, I’m a white guy from South St Louis who listened to rock’n’roll who just loves blues.”  As a listener who appreciates Zito’s ability to not just play the blues, but to journey down other rock’n’roll roads to great effect, I reckon it's a perceptive comment.
Zito’s recording career already went back 15 years when I first came across him with his 2013 album Gone To Texas, recorded with his then band The Wheel.  So yeah, I was pretty late to the party really.  But as belated introductions go, it was good enough to be the start of a lasting relationship, so to speak.  I’m spoilt for choice with tracks to illustrate the quality of Gone To Texas, such as the title track (reflecting positively on the move to Texas that had given him a fresh start in life some years previously), the upbeat ‘Rainbow Bridge’ with its clever everyday imagery, the touring musician’s lament/celebration ‘The Road Never Ends’, or the witty ‘Subtraction Blues’ – and so on and so on.  But I’m going to go with the mellow ‘I Never Knew A Hurricane’, which sports some wonderful, sensitive lyrics, and on which Susan Cowsill is an outstanding vocal foil.
The impact of Gone To Texas was enough to make me explore two of Zito’s earlier albums, 2009’s Pearl River, and 2011’s Greyhound.  The former grabbed me more, with the likes of the fun opener ‘Dirty Blonde’ and the funny, funky ‘Big Mouth’.  But the standout was ‘Pearl River’ itself, a sombre track looking into the dark past of the South that gives a clear nod to Billie Holiday’s ‘Strange Fruit’ – and a worthy winner of the Song Of The Year award at the 2010 Blues Music Awards.

Ready to rip it up

Zito’s next (and last) album with the Wheel was the 2015 release Keep Coming Back – my favourite album of that year, and probably still my favourite Zito record.  Again, there are plenty of candidates for inclusion here, starting with the terrific quintet of songs about addiction and sobriety that open the album – Zito having been a mess of booze and drugs around the millennium until he finally got sober in 2003 with the help of his wife Laura.  But my first pick from the album is ‘Girl From Liberty’, a classic example of Zito spreading his wings to produce an invigorating slice of storytelling rock’n’roll.  You could liken it to early Tom Petty, maybe, but really it’s pure Zito.
I appreciate Keep Coming Back so much though, that I have to share another song, and it’s ‘I Was Drunk’.  Recorded with Anders Osborne, it’s the last of the aforementioned quintet, and a devastating Americana slow burn of self-disgust and regret at the impact of drink and drugs.  I dare say there are other songwriters who could explore the theme with similar results, but by god Zito punches you in the gut with this.
Skipping forward to 2018's First Class Life, Zito’s provides a lighter note on 'Back Problems', a chunk of drawling funky blues, with a wearily witty lyric about being weighed down with trials and tribulations – a style for which he’d often shown a facility before, not least with ‘Don’t Break A Leg’ on Gone To Texas, and on some of his work with the Royal Southern Brotherhood “supergroup”, such as ‘Sweet Jelly Donut’.  The funkiness is easy and slinky, and our Mike’s way with this kind of tongue-in-cheek lyric is part of his ongoing charm.
The Covid pandemic presented musicians with a host of challenges – in Zito’s case including thesudden abandonment of a European tour.  But you have to admire his response to adversity by putting together an album with his bandmates in a matter of weeks to plug the gap.  But it’s not just the fact they did it that’s impressive – Quarantine Blues is a corker of an album, bristling with spontaneous energy.  Several tracks could illustrate what I'm talking about, but let’s go with ‘Quarantine Blues’ itself – well he is still a guy who loves the blues after all, and this is a grinding, stomping demonstration of his credentials.
Resurrection, perhaps titled to celebrate the emergence from lockdown, showed off more of his range, especially in creating a sense of drama.  ‘When It Rains’ is a classic example, sharing a stomping kick drum with ‘Quarantine Blues’, but going off in an entirely different, subtler and

Here's looking at you, Mike!

more suspenseful direction, featuring smouldering sax from Eric Demmer.
Notwithstanding his songwriting range, the blues remain a cornerstone of Zito’s repertoire, and it’s also worth emphasising that he’s (a) a blisteringly good live performer; and (b) a helluva guitarist.  These three elements come together on his live album Blues For The Southside, recorded in his home town of St Louis.  Here Zito gets down to some serious axe wrangling, such as when he goes toe to toe with Eric Gales on ‘Voodoo Chile’ (not the Slight Return version).  But I can’t resist picking the live version here of a favourite from Gone To Texas, the bright and bopping ‘The Road Never Ends’, which is pepped up by some guitar duelling with Dave Katz.
Zito is rarely far away from a collaboration with someone, and in recent years one of his most significant sparring partners has been Albert Castiglia, another guy capable of both guitar fireworks and songwriting quality.  The pair delivered Castiglia’s album Masterpiece without any help from other musos, and did it so well that for me it was the best album of 2019. Then they got together again for their 2023 Blood Brothers project which, while pretty good, wasn't as explosive as I was expecting.  But damn did they put that right with the dynamite Blood Brothers: Live In Canada outing.  So let’s hear ‘em boogieing hard on ‘My Business’ for starters.  And while you really should hear them getting stuck into ‘Rocking In The Free World’ – a great choice of cover – my other selection is the dramatic ‘In My Soul’, which starts out aching and works itself up into a real lather.* 
And so, to bring us up to date, there’s just Mike Zito’s latest album Life Is Hard, released in February this year.  In case you haven’t heard, it’s essentially a memorial to Zito’s wife Laura, who died of cancer in 2023.  It’s as dark as you would expect in places, though Zito also tries to find relief through some more upbeat songs.  But really, there’s only one track I can pick to signify what the album is all about, and that’s the gut-wrenchingly emotional ‘Forever My Love’.  I’m not going to labour over describing it – just go listen to it to get the drift.
Mike Zito is a down to earth artist who doesn’t give himself any airs and graces, and that’s part of his appeal to me.  But that doesn’t mean he’s just some common or garden musician.  No, Mike Zito is a fine songwriter, a great guitarist, and a characterful singer, and if you’re not familiar with his work you need to put that right.  Soon.

* The links here are to a show in Illinois, rather than from the album itself.

The Bad Day - The Irish Goodbye

When a band sounds like they’ve said, “Fuck it, let’s do what the hell we want”, then set about it with a will, and then live up to that spirit of adventure from start to finish – well, wotchya gonna do?  You stand up and applaud, that’s what you do. So get ready to put your hands together for The Irish Goodbye.
Once upon a time of course, they were The Bad Day Blues Band, and pretty vibrant they were too back then.  They still do some rootsy manoeuvres here, and we’ll get to them in a minute. But it’s their personality-laden rock’n’rolling that makes The Irish Goodbye stand out at first blush.
Right from the off, ‘Heartbeat’ grabs you by the short hairs, its ker-thump-thump rhythm living up to the title, reinforced by some crunking chords, Nick Peck then adding some squiggly, scratchy guitar

The Bad Day - that pub doesn't look promising, fellas.

like a cardiogram gone haywire before they plant the simple chorus between your ears.  And then there’s bassist Adam Rigg’s quavering, sometimes whinnying voice, which here - though not everywhere - sounds like David Byrne and brings a distinctive edge to the Bad Day sound.
There’s plenty more where that came from too, especially with the prickle’n’crunch riffing and whomping beat of the simple but irresistible ‘High Maintenance’, with its toothache-nagging verses and ferrety, bleeping guitar break.  ‘Powerless’ with its chugging harp and guitar, belies its title, then joins agitated verses to an anthemic chorus worthy of The Clash – if The Clash had a guitarist like Peck to add some hard rock muscle and a Vocoder-like theme on the bridge, plus Sam Spranger cracking out a squealing harp solo.
There’s some bristling energy on ‘Welcome To The Show’ and ‘No Love For Sale’ too.  The former is a stuttering, harp-seasoned affair with a moan-along section redolent of Zeppelin, sorta, a warped rock’n’roll solo from Peck, and a frenetic, all-hands-on-deck outro.  ‘No Love For Sale' is better though, led by throbbing bass from Rigg while Andrea Tremolada whacks out a quasi-mechanistic beat, contrasting with sweet guitar lines from Peck until the punchy chorus arrives, propelled by dirtier chords.  There are conversational harp and guitar exchanges too, to pique more interest, and a razor-like Peck guitar solo for good measure.
And then there’s the other side of the coin, with songs like the mellow and tender 'Mr Regret', which gets more rousing as its hero proclaims “My name is Regret, my address is The Past”, embellished by some tootling harp from Spranger.  It’s got a vaguely Celtic feel, and there’s more of that on the plangent, romantic ‘A Long Shot’, with its post-punk vibe and sweetly spiky guitar solo.
‘Old Lovers’ is country music in the same way that Alabama 3 aren’t, with a gently lilting melody, moaning harp remarks and elegiac slide mutterings, leading to a nightingale-like harp solo from Spranger and Peck’s guitar playing around with the melody.  Meantime Rigg’s voice gets all yearning in a Mike Scott of the Waterboys fashion – or maybe Joe Strummer trying to be more tuneful.  There’s a Clash-like quirkiness to ‘Sliding Doors’ too, reminiscent of ‘Jimmy Jazz’ perhaps – offbeat, with chirruping guitar, washes of organ, and a squawking Rigg vocal.
Which just leaves the closing pair of ‘Bag Of Bones’ and the title track ‘The Irish Goodbye’.  ‘Bag Of Bones’ is as rootsy as they get, starting slowly with acoustic chords, harp, and bluesy storytelling, before bursting into rattling country-folk-blues rock’n’roll that’s all ragged charm.  Then ‘The Irish Goodbye’ is a slow affair, opening with sombre piano, and progressing with low slung, melodic bass and moaning harp.  It’s not what you’d call epic in style, but it does explore light and shade, exemplified by a hustling bridge that features soaring harp and alternately growling and scraping guitar.  Peck’s guitar weaves perfectly around the melody as they ramp it up, and then they’re done.
An Irish goodbye is when you leave a party without taking your leave of everyone.  But there’s nothing surreptitious about this third album from The Bad Day.  I enjoyed their second, eponymous outing, but thought its conceptual nature was maybe a bit of a stretch.  Not so with The Irish Goodbye.  This is a cracking album where The Bad Day do what they like and do it damn well.
 
The Irish Goodbye is out now, and can be ordered here.

Robert Jon & The Wreck - Red Moon Rising

When they’re good they’re very good, and when they’re not so good - yeah, they’re still pretty good.
It’s a given that the Wreck are a songwriting gang of the first order.  They crank out good tunes, hooks and arrangements with remarkable regularity.  Some of this output naturally leans towards the Southern rock style with which they generally get pegged.  But what makes Robert Jon Burrison and co stand out for me is their ability to break out of that territory and do the business in different ways.
That range is alive and well in the stretch of songs here that starts with ‘Ballad Of A Broken Hearted Man’, and eases through ‘Red Moon Rising’ to ‘Dragging Me Down’.  ‘Ballad . . .’ is, to be sure, a ballad, and one with country-ish tinges to its melody and steely, spiralling acoustic picking.  But it’s evocative enough to take on an epic, mesmeric quality, with Burrison’s convincing story-telling augmented by big guitar chords, typically strong harmonies, and some

Robert Jon & The Wreck - a little Southern comfort goes a long way

Pic by Allison Morgan

slithering slide guitar from Henry James Schneekluth.  Then with the title track they take a sharp turn into cool funkiness, Andrew Espantman’s laid back drums setting the grooving course for a clever arrangement featuring spikes of guitar, surging organ, and chantalong segments.  Then ‘Dragging Me Down’ conjures an intriguingly dark and stormy vibe out of twisting and turning riffs and Burrison’s angst-tinged vocal, leading to a barbed-wire solo from Schneekluth, and a downshift into a section with cool keys from Jake Abernathie.
The second half of the album finds the Wreckers taking their foot off the gas in various styles, as the accompaniment to some philosophical lyrics, gradually shifting down the gears from the sunny Southern rock vibe of ‘Down No More’ to the relaxed honky tonk of ‘Help Yourself’, and then the low key and intimate ‘Worried Mind’.  ‘Down No More’ comes with acoustic strumming, a good hook, and some twirling guitar and toots of organ to go with the Burrison’s assertion that “I’ve been down, I ain’t down no more”.  It’s lightweight, but a useful contrast to some of the earlier songs.  ‘Help Yourself’ is an easygoing take on the homespun philosophy that “You gotta help, help, help yourself (woah-oh)”, and ends up going round in circles a bit towards the end. But ‘Worried Mind’ is more interesting in its downbeat rootsiness, Burrison’s quiet vocal set against acoustic guitars and swirls of accordion, and eventually a weeping slide solo from Schneekluth.
‘Give Love’, the closing track on the vinyl album, tops off this strand of songs with tinkling, meandering piano commentary and Warren Murrel’s brooding, deep-down bass underpinning Robert Jon’s characterful, thoughtful vocal.  It’s a well put together song, putting across the notion that “We could all use a little more love in the world” with conviction, garlanded with some fluttering guitar embroidery and in due course a sparkling, suspenseful guitar solo.  And then they add some distinctly Allmans-like guitar harmonies which – and I dare say I’m in the minority on this – are a tired old trope that they really don’t need to indulge.  (The fact that they repeat the trick on ‘Hate To See You Go’, one of two CD bonus tracks, underlines the sense of unnecessary Southern rock cliché.)
I like the Wreck better when they elbow those Southern rockisms and just rock’n’roll, and the headshaking opener ‘Stone Cold Killer’ delivers those goods, with its jab-and-move riff, window-rattling bass and singalong chorus, not to mention its scrabbling, screeching slide solo.  But it’s a bit short-sighted to follow that tale of a badass woman with the grinding stomp of ‘Trouble’, about another pretty-but-poisonous female who is “Trouble, from her head to her feet”.  Personally I’d have promoted the judderingly urgent bonus track ‘Rager’ to the top end of the album.  A driving, gritty rocker with propulsive drums from Espantman, it features an imaginative, edgy solo from Schneekluth, and an accelerating finish of Blackmore’n’Lord like guitar/organ harmonising.  Now we’re talking!
So yeah, Robert Jon & The Wreck fall a little short of their best here and there on Red Moon Rising. But hey, it’s still another strong album from one of the best rock’n’roll outfits around. So go get it for the good stuff.
 
Red Moon Rising is released by Journeyman Records on 28 June, and can be ordered here.