E D Brayshaw - Random Repeat

It’d be fair to say that E D Brayshaw, a gentleman of a certain age with a thinning hairline to match my own, doesn’t immediately bring Ziggy Stardust to mind.  But like Ziggy, boy can he play guitar!
That's not all there is to his second solo album, Random Repeat, but it’s a pretty good place to start.  Regular readers will know that I can get most disgruntled at guitarists who ramble on for ages as if songs are just excuses for them to solo.  But here we have Mr Brayshaw, who undoubtedly likes to spread himself a bit when it comes to the ol’ guitar pickin’, taking 56 minutes to deliver ten songs – and I like it.  I like it a lot, in fact.

E D Brayshaw - not quite Ziggy Stardust

Pic by Sally Newhouse

On the opening ‘Storm Warning’ his barbed-wire delivery of the twisting and turning opening guitar riff provides the perfect setting for the dramatic pen picture of the titular storm.  It’s one of at least three tracks that have seen the light of day before, in this case in cahoots with his mucker Wily Bo Walker on their album The Roads We Ride – he’s evidently been infected by Walker’s penchant for frequent reworking of material – but that doesn’t detract from its power.  His voice is more billy-goat-gruff than Walker’s velvet growl, but that doesn’t matter either, because he sings with real intent.  And then there are the solos, intense affairs that fizz and crackle like forks of lightning, taking the main guitar theme and shaking it in all directions.
Penultimate track ‘After The Storm’ offers a more subdued, Celtic-tinged arrangement that suggests the skies clearing and the rain washing away, but only as the backdrop to some Dire Straits-like storytelling about a man’s life left in ruins by the tempest, his anguish captured in Brayshaw’s plaintive soloing.
The less intense ‘Just Another Night’ humorously recounts nights onstage in different settings, during which he feels the presence of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Duane Allman and Roy Buchanan at this side, and if his payoff line of “I’ll do everything that I can” is a tad weak, that can’t be said of the steady, laid back backing, or his well-paced, sizzling guitar breaks.
But different styles are explored too.  The easy-going, semi-acoustic ‘Take It Away’ is in shuffling JJ Cale territory.  And there’s a Knopfler-like feel to the lilting ‘Tennessee Blues’, with its tripping rhythm and simple, bobbing bass, to which Brayshaw adds some jauntier guitar work, tinkling piano, and what sounds like banjo and lap slide into the bargain.  Or possibly something else, since the guy is a multi-instrumentalist who also takes care of bass, drums, mandolin and dobro duties, with only a little help from Lee Feltham on the drum stool for a few tracks.
Adding to the variety, things get swinging and jazzy on ‘Probably Correct’ and the closing, more restrained ‘Petite Fleur”, the former with a conversational, tongue-in-cheek lyric, and the latter a cover of an instrumental by the long gone jazz clarinettist Sidney Bechet, that comes over like a more fluid forebear of ‘Parisienne Walkways’.
‘Fade Away’ is a highlight in a very different vein.  It kicks off with a rapidly throbbing, undulating bass line over a snappy beat, sounding like a speeded-up sample from Michael Jackson’s ‘Billie Jean’, but as the basis for a tune with a bit of a snarl.  Brayshaw’s voice is straining and angsty over the fuzzy guitar riffing, and he knocks off a tearaway solo as the bass goes into rollercoaster mode.  It’s the one here track that harks back, pleasingly, to some of the rough’n’ready R’n’B sounds on his previous album Fire Without Water.
There's nothing random about this album.  E D Brayshaw doesn’t attempt anything fancy.  He may be a black belt of guitar tone, but I don’t hear a phalanx of effects pedals at work here.  His voice is nothing special, to be sure, but it’s got character and a certain charm, and he writes a good song.  Random Repeat is the sound of a man happy in his work, and if you like razor-sharp, imaginative guitar-playing then you should be happy with it too.
 
Random Repeat is out now on Mescal Canyon Records, and can be ordered here.

E D Brayshaw - Fire Without Water

My past encounters with E D Brayshaw have been in his guise as guitar-slinging collaborator with Wily Bo Walker, on albums such as The Roads We Ride, typically contributing searing, stiletto-toned solos adding to the epic, cinemascope vision.  But with his debut solo album Fire Without Water, Brayshaw takes the chance to explore some different musical angles.

Opening track ‘Hadn’t Found You’ lives up to expectations, combining guitar tones of Santana-esque purity with salsa-like percussion and prominent, trampolining bass, to create an infectious groove.  Add in his low, groaning vocal and it carries echoes of John Lee Hooker's 'The Healer'

E D Brayshaw - sepia-toned guitar wrangling

– well, if Hooker came from Croydon, say.  (I don’t know exactly where the E D fella hails from, but it sure as hell ain’t Louisiana.)

More surprising though, is that he pitches in with several tracks of a rough and tumble pub rock R’n’B hue.  On ‘Say What You Will’ the bass playing – also courtesy of Brayshaw – adds depth to his jangling rhythm guitar, while his solo is brisk and biting.  And if his voice is less well suited to this kind of attack, he more or less gets away with it by virtue of his commitment.  The later ‘I Hear The Rain’ is in a similar vein, with his growling vocal rather more convincing, like a bass Joe Strummer, and it’s easy to be swept along by his squealing, wailing guitar solo.

These two tracks bracket the more moody, mid-paced ‘When The Walls Come Down’.  Gritty guitar chords open up proceedings, before laying back and letting that elastic bass take the strain to good effect.  There’s a neat call-and-response style chorus, and some good dynamics as the intensity drops for a later verse, and Brayshaw’s soloing serves the song well, right through to a blistering second foray that really brings the walls down.  It’s a well-put together offering, sustaining itself for over six minutes.

‘Said And Done’ takes a different tack, with a vaguely Skynyrd feel, laid back and fluid, with Brayshaw’s guitar striking a sweeter note and mandolin tickling away in the background.  He bolsters his vocals by doubling up on them here and there as he opines that “When all is said and done, more is said than done” – though there’s still the odd wonky moment.

The closing two tracks head in polar opposite directions.  On ‘Reckless’ Brayshaw goes for broke, with brisk snapping drums, bubbling bass and funkily flittering rhythm guitar the foundation for some ringing, slashing guitar chords over the top and a lyric that declares “My daddy called me reckless, said I’d have to learn to lose”.  But ultimately it’s a platform for Brayshaw to go guitar surfing with some aliens, as it were, and he really digs in with some sizzling stuff.  To paraphrase Vincent Vega in Pulp Fiction, “That’s a pretty fucking good guitar workout.  I don’t know if it’s worth eight minutes, but it’s pretty fucking good.”  Which just leaves the gentle, lyrical ‘Twilight’, an instrumental tone poem, a crepuscular exploration over twanging bass, rolling piano notes like ripples on the shore, and restrained acoustic picking.

In case you haven’t worked it out, Brayshaw plays virtually everything on this album, assisted only by drums from Lee Feltham on a couple of tracks.  And by everything I mean guitars, bass, drums, Dobro, lap steel, mandolin and keys.  He acquits himself damn well in all departments too – especially his classy bass playing – while the songwriting explores different angles with some savvy.  Fire Without Water may not be flawless, but it’s about as solo as an album gets, and damned enjoyable to boot.

Fire Without Water is available on Mescal Canyon Records now, and from Bandcamp here.

Wily Bo Walker & E D Brayshaw - The Roads We Ride

The Roads We Ride is a curious affair, in a way.  It’s a repackaging as a double-cd set of two albums previously released individually – Stone Cold Beautiful and Running Wild – which together form the intertwined narrative of three characters trying to make their way in the expanse of America.  On one level I ask myself why the double album is necessary, but hey – it’s a beautifully packaged affair, so let’s just go with the flow eh?

Billed as a film noir script, a concept album, a dime-store novel, this collaboration between Wily Bo Walker and E D Brayshaw tells the story of a femme fatale called Louise; Harry, the dirt farmer she runs out on; and Johnny, the ageing small-time singer she falls in with.  Think of a mash-up between some Dust Bowl flick, Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart, and Bonnie And Clyde, and you’ll get the idea.  Maybe the storyline is a bit thin, but we’ll let that pass – never mind the rock opera, listen to the music.

Wily Bo Walker, with the elusive E D Brayshaw nowhere to be seen

Pic by Sally Newhouse

What you get are thirteen tracks, weaving covers of Loudon Wainwright III’s ‘Motel Blues’ and Fenton Robinson’s ‘Loan Me A Dime’ in amongst originals variously from the pens of Walker and/or Brayshaw. Walker is responsible for the lead vocals, with his gravelly bass voice, and along with assorted ladies also provides backing vox.  The enigmatic Brayshaw, meanwhile, provides “Guitars, Instrumentation & Backing Vocals”.  Why enigmatic?  Well, you try finding anything out about him, other than that he’s a compadre of Wily Bo. Go on, Google him.  I tell you what you’ll discover – nada, niente, nowt. But I can tell you one thing – whoever he is, the guy is a real serious guitar picker.

He sets the tone right from the intro to the opening ‘Storm Warning’, with characteristic stiletto sharp notes stabbing out the suitably stormy theme that will recur throughout the song, before Walker rumbles his way into the apocalyptic lyrics, leading up to a strong chorus underpinned by female backing vocals.  It’s typical of a mood reminiscent of Dire Straits in epic, ‘Telegraph Road’ mode – except more fevered.

They cool things off effectively after that, with the faintly Latin, rumba-like swing of ‘I Want To Know’, and the well evoked seediness of ‘Motel Blues’, bringing to mind the down-at-heel road existence of Jeff Bridges as Bad Blake, somehow seducing Maggie Gyllenhall in Crazy Heart.  Then after a decent reading of ‘Loan Me A Dime’, with Walker groaning away bluesily in very Tom Waits fashion, they get down to serious business with ‘September Red’.

Here, people, is an object lesson in how much you can get out of one good hook and an imaginative guitarist. The verse is pleasant enough, but what it mostly does is set up the captivating melody of the chorus, rounded out deliciously by swelling, almost choral female voices.  After a couple of patient turns around that, Brayshaw then sets off on an extended

exploration of the melody, deconstructing it and reassembling it over bendy bass playing, and adding chorus effects to a repeated motif.  It’s seven and a half minutes worth of widescreen quality.

Technicolor visuals for a cinematic soundtrack concept

This though, is just a warm-up for the even larger canvas of ‘Killers On The Run’, a more intense affair that builds to the tag line “Stone cold beautiful” halfway through, before clearing the way for Brayshaw to set off on a searing, sweeping solo reminiscent of what Buck Dharma has often delivered for Blue Oyster Cult – and then downshifting into a ‘Samba Pati’ like closing segment.  Epic is what Walker and Brayshaw often aim for, and epic it certainly is.

Highlights of the second CD include the Doors-like ‘Night Of The Hunter’, peppered with turbulent guitar, which gives way to the more laid back ‘Tennessee Blues’.  Here a sweet, Knopfler-ish guitar riff is given added country twang by a pedal steel, creating an airy mood as a soundtrack for Harry’s reflections as he rides a train north.  A Celtic-sounding riff is then the mainstay of ‘After The Storm’, helping to conjure up New York City.

If ‘The Ballad Of Johnny & Louise’ and ‘The Roads We Ride’ are both attempts at something summative, the latter is probably the more successful, its acoustic guitar underpinnings creating more sense of variety than the former, which is essentially more of epic same, though both feature typically imaginative lyrics from Walker.

The Roads We Ride is an ambitious affair, and Walker and Brayshaw should be applauded for it.  Maybe they bite off a bit more than they can chew, but it’s an album buzzing with ideas, and it achieves the cinematic sweep to which they evidently aspired.  Walker is a characterful singer, with a strong vision, while Brayshaw – whoever he is – delivers some excellent arrangements, topped off with fiery guitar. Two guys on a musical journey together – they make quite a combo.

Listened to lately . . .

There’s been an awful lot of music competing for attention on the Blues Enthused playlist recently.  But here are a few selections that you really should try to get your ears around sometime soon.

King King – ‘Rush Hour (Radio Remix)’

Looking forward to seeing King King on their upcoming tour, and with this new single they should get some decent airplay to go with it. It’s actually a radio edit, with about 45 seconds judiciously trimmed from the album version.  But the mix also brings Alan Nimmo’s vocals further to the fore, and gives some extra oomph to Wayne Proctor’s drums.  Possibly not of huge interest to long-standing fans, except on a completist basis, but if you’re not familiar with King King yet then: (a) where have you been? And (b) check out this video, and get on board!

Tommy Castro & The Painkillers – Method To My Madness

If you like Mike Zito & The Wheel (and their Keep Coming Back was probably my favourite album of 2015), then this should be right up your street.  There’s a strong seam of Creedence-like 60s rock’n’roll, driven along by varied rhythms from Bowen Brown, as on the opening track 'Common Ground'.  There’s also some great blues, infusions of funk, and tinges of country, while the laid back ‘Ride’ sounds like a drive with the top down on a sultry night in NOLA.  

Rebecca Downes – Believe

I happened to give Downes’ first album, Back To The Start, a listen just recently, and thought to myself, “This isn’t half bad”.  The same applies to this follow-up.  It kicks off in a satisfying groove, with some nice playing and stinging guitar to back up Miss D as she unwraps her tonsils.  There are some pretty good songs on show too, often in a soulful, funky vein, but also taking in the good-time break-up song ‘1000 Years’, and the smoky ‘Could Not Say No’.

Wily Bo Walker & E D Brayshaw – Stone Cold Beautiful

With his deep, rumbling voice, I can imagine that Walker is aiming for a Tom Waits vibe.  He doesn’t quite have the poetry for that, but this is still an evocative collection of songs, with a cinematic quality to the stories and imagery.  The music is a good fit too, reminding me of Chris Rea in ‘Road To Hell’ mode, with Brayshaw’s piercing guitar work the icing on the cake from start to finish.  They like to spread themselves too – just six songs across about 40 minutes – but there’s not a minute wasted.  Here, though, is the relatively short 'Motel Blues'