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.
 

Quickies - Liz Jones & Broken Windows, and Consummate Rogues

The latest Quickies round-up compares and contrasts a couple of recently released live albums for your delectation and delight.

Liz Jones & Broken Windows – Live At The Voodoo Rooms
 
This may be an avowedly unvarnished live album, with a few imprecise moments allowed to stand, but Liz Jones & Broken Windows still make good on the rootsy subtleties that are their stock-in-trade.
The opening ‘No Classic Love Song’ makes for a good appetiser, a hymn to an unconventional couple that Jones wrote for their wedding, which has a loping, offbeat, gypsy-ish charm.  Jamie Hamilton’s piano is to the fore, and also adds various frills and filigrees, while John Bruce’s

John Bruce and Liz Jones of the tinted Broken Windows

guitar solo adds some extra bite to set things on their way.
The strongest of the nine songs stretch across the middle of the album, starting with the mandolin strumming and twangy guitar motif of ‘Lover’, with Jones making a delicious vocal out of the simple melody.  A sumptuously ascending guitar and piano line comes up a couple of times to reel you in, and Hamilton adds some chocolate box piano remarks to enhance the final verse.  The following ‘Jo’ is an interesting character study with a ‘Fever’-like groove à la Peggy Lee, smokily delivered by Jones overs warm Fender Rhodes piano, punctuated by twirls of guitar and rattles of vibraslap, topped off by a sweet’n’sour slide solo from Bruce.
Jones reveals that the patient ‘Strum’ is about “fancying a musician onstage”, so it may not be amiss to interpret the tagline of “Strum, strum, strum, with two fingers and a thumb” as being about more than just guitar playing.  Percussionist and mandolin player Suzy Cargill jazzes up the rhythm with bongos, and Bruce delivers an edgier solo as the tune gets rather more, er, aroused.  New song ‘Bala Man’ opens with raindrop-descending piano and a fuzzy Gerry Rafferty-like guitar riff, then clacks along in relaxed fashion as Jones delivers a conversational lyric.  The riff returns as the launchpad for a tasty solo, and a turn of organ before the rippling piano rounds things off.  And the set peaks with the Hispanic-sounding stroll of ‘Before Me’, a delightful ensemble affair with typically clever Jones wordsmithing in its bitter lyric from the standpoint of someone feeling spurned by their lover.
The moody “J’Accuse” of ‘Narcissist’, the cover of JB Lenoir’s quirky blues ‘The Whale’, and the closing ‘Call Centre Blues’ are all fine, but there are stronger songs in the Windows’ repertoire that could have elevated this set still further*.  All the same, Live At The Voodoo Rooms is still a tasty treat to provide a flavour of what the Jones gang are like in a live setting.
 
Live At The Voodoo Rooms is out now, and can be ordered here.
You can read the Blues Enthused review of Broken Windows’ debut album here, and their second album Bricks & Martyrs here.

*On second thoughts, 'Call Centre Blues' has rather grown on me, earworm fashion!
 
 
Consummate Rogues – Live In Bucharest
 
As strategies for your debut album go, a live recording made in Romania is a bit oddball – especially when the resulting set could reasonably be described as a pretty traditional affair.
Consummate Rogues are a four-piece led by piano-player, sax man and singer Chris Rand, a session man who has played with many artists on the British blues and jazz scenes, and has been able to call on team-mates of a similar ilk to get this band up and running.
You don’t really need the PR bumf to tell you that boogie-woogie piano is a big influence on what’s going on here, as Rand demonstrates his ivory-bashing chops on the likes of ‘How Can I Miss You When You Won’t Go Away’, just about vindicating his byzantine introductory anecdote

Consummate Rogues - not in Bucharest

involving a tribute album to the famed Stones piano man Ian Stewart, which provided the inspiration for the song.  It’s an okay strolling boogie, but they kick things up a notch when they segue into the old standard ‘Alright, Okay, You Win’, and the band weigh in to add some rock to the roll.  Rand whacks out another stonking piano turn, and then picks up his sax to add a jazzy but emphatic solo, over the rattling rhythm section of Geoff Threadgold on bass and Will Chism on drums.
This mix of originals and covers is the template followed across the album, the best of the new songs being ‘Across The Year’, which ploughs a tense groove with a low down riff that recalls the bass line from the Beatles’ ‘Come Together’, and features an attack-minded guitar solo from Leo Appleyard that really should be punched up higher in the mix.  Meanwhile an avowed New Orleans influence is reflected in Dr John’s ‘Such A Night’, which has a suitably good-time vibe and a vaguely romantic air too, plus a nice walking bass line.
A penchant for roots rock is revealed in a suitably energised reading of The Band’s ‘Rag Mama Rag’, and a laid-back take on Dylan’s ‘You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go’.  Rand’s vocal on the latter is confident enough, though as a rule his voice leans towards the thin and reedy, and without any vocal harmonies they can’t make it fly like the original – though Appleyard does give it some zip with a sizzling, occasionally discordant guitar solo.  Rand’s vocal is better suited to the Dylan tune though, a good tune that offers a different, Americana-type slant to the set.
‘I’m A Believer’ seems like a bizarre song selection though, especially when set in motion by Rand’s impressively sophisticated boogie-woogieing intro, until the band enter the fray with a brisk train-track rhythm – but again the lack of vocal harmonies is telling.
Live In Bucharest is a good bit of fun, but a bit more focus would have been useful to get the best out of an obviously talented group of musicians.
 
Live In Bucharest is out now, and can be ordered here.

Liz Jones - Bounty

You could be forgiven for thinking, when the title track ‘Bounty’ kicks off this solo album by Liz Jones, that it doesn’t sound so very different from the two albums she has made with her band, Broken Windows.  Here’s a warm and inviting tune, with Jones’ distinctive, engaging voice to the fore, backed by quietly insistent acoustic guitar, gentle piano and a clip-clopping rhythm, enlivened here and there by a trilling, trippy guitar line, and ultimately a pin-sharp solo from Windows guitarist John Bruce.

Liz Jones - lady sings the roots

As subtle as this sound may be though, for the most part Bounty tones things down even further, initially capturing the songs with just Jones’ voice and acoustic guitar.  She and producer Jennifer Clark then elicited contributions from a gaggle of other musicians to provide additional textures according to their own lights.  And if that sounds like a risky kind of “lucky dip” approach, the results are both coherent and delicate.
Most importantly though, Liz Jones’ alluring voice is front and centre throughout.  Here we have a roots singer with bags of range and variation in tone, who can be as sensitive, relaxed or powerful as her songs demand.  Indeed several songs on Bounty feature Jones harmonising with herself to exquisite effect.  Overdubs curl around her lead vocal like smoke rings on the meditative, swaying ‘Green’, to which Jamie Hamilton adds some richly soulful organ embellishment.  ‘Temple’ is even more startling on this front, the harmonies starting simple, then growing into delicious spirals.
Characterising the styles of these songs isn’t straightforward.  Given that London-born Jones sings in her own accent, without recourse to Americanisms, I’m loath to use a term like Americana.  But ‘Little Song’ carries some echoes of Geraint Watkins, the Welshman who has collaborated with Nick Lowe among others and who sometimes attracts the Americana tag.  Meanwhile ‘Mother Earth’ has an ethereal aspect that takes me back to (very) early Joan Armatrading, with understated shadings of pedal steel as Jones offers the typically evocative image “What have I tasted so sour on my tongue?”  ‘Temple’ puts me in mind of Deacon Blue in downbeat mode, like ‘Bethlehem’s Gate’ perhaps, sweetly delivered in antithesis to acerbic lines like “Our body is a temple until Friday night”, and with starlit pedal/lap steel decoration from Jon Mackenzie. And the sombre ‘Magnet’, with its prickling guitar, reflects on the attracting and repelling poles of relationships in a manner suggestive of the darker moments Justin Currie brought to Del Amitri.
Thirteen tracks is possibly too many, though I’m not complaining – this is an album to lay back and wallow in.  But there are some other favourites along the way.  ‘Accused’ starts with another patient, throbbing rhythm and ticking guitar, and then Jamie Hamilton weighs in with trombone to add more heft and depth as Jones’ vocal gathers more force for the pay-off: “I should have done all those things you accused me of, honey I’d have had way more fun”.  ‘Show Me The Way’ rolls along on an easygoing, pattering rhythm from Suzi Cargill’s djemba, providing an upbeat soundtrack for a tribute to someone who rolls with the punches, with more harmonies that this time culminate in a soaring choral effect.
Bounty is a sophisticated album, with producer Jen Clarke and the cast of collaborators finding just the right degree of elaboration to bring out the quality of the material, and burnishes Liz Jones’ credentials as both a songwriter and a singer.  I know it ain’t rock’n’roll, but I still like it.
 
Bounty is released on 18 November, and can be ordered here.

Liz Jones & Broken Windows - Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh, 19 February 2022

The Assembly Roxy, a converted church that’s the venue for this one hour show as part of the Scottish Blues Weekend, is very pretty.  Gotta say though, set up as it is just now with rows of socially distanced chairs, it feels a bit sedate.  Needs must in these still tricky times, of course, but I look forward to a more relaxed musical environment becoming more feasible moving forward.
The sound is good though, which means that Liz Jones & Broken Windows are able to put over this genre-hopping set, drawing primarily on last year’s Bricks & Martyrs album, with both warmth and clarity.
They get the ball rolling with the gutsy ‘Call Centre Blues’, all fuzzy chords and steady beat, the

Liz Jones & Broken Windows - get hip to the genre-hopping!

Pic by Stuart Stott

“blues” referring not to the musical form so much as the experiences that inform the lyric.  Then they dial it down into a jazzier mode with ‘Jo’, which rests on a bass line from Rod Kennard that evokes Peggy Lee’s ‘Fever’.  Jones delivers an expressive vocal over the mellow groove, with Jamie Hamilton’s sweet keyboards offset by a salty slide guitar solo from John Bruce.
‘Wendy’ and ‘Angel’ both bring more muscle to the table.  ‘Wendy’ is an intriguing tale of an acquaintance who suddenly dropped out of view, relayed in bright fashion with funky guitar frills, with a biting solo to close.  ‘Angel’ is simply a great uptempo love song, a slice of happy-go-lucky pop that brings to mind Katrina & The Waves.
‘Lover’ then cools things off, opening with no more than mandolin strumming from Suzy Cargill and sparse guitar counterpoint from Bruce on guitar, while Jones delivers an elegiac vocal.  The rest of the band then come in, including Jones’ own acoustic guitar, to swell the sound and elevate the tune with some gorgeous harmonies.  It’s a highlight that the quirky slow shuffle of ‘Karma’ can’t quite match, notwithstanding its dark humour and the eerie flutters emanating from Bruce’s whammy bar.
They get all Latino on ‘Stain’, with Cargill variously using bongos and a triangle to speed up the swinging rhythm laid down by drummer Gary Davidson, while Jones bends her voice into husky mode.  Hamilton gets to work on a jazzy piano solo, and Bruce this time offers up some brittle Hispanic-sounding guitar to fit the vibe.
Turning to their eponymous debut album, they’re able to explore yet another avenue with the trippingly romantic ‘No Classic Love Song’, which probably has gypsy jazz somewhere in its genes, Hamilton coaxing accordion sounds out of his keys while in my head I can still hear the clarinet that floated through the album version.  ‘Strum’ starts off languid, Jones singing the insistent chorus in breathy fashion before it changes gear and becomes a rather more urgent affair.
Jones introduces a new song with the working title ‘Jesus’, exploring another musical facet as Bruce matches some warped, Sixties-sounding guitar lines to Jones’ tale of “Jesus down in Mexico getting high’, en route to a swirling, psychedelic ending.  Then they close with a cover of a Sippie Wallace tune, ‘Women Be Wise’ – a witty, rinky-dink little blues to finish with a smile.
All the material may fall under the umbrella of what I call roots rock, but they certainly manage to cover multiple different bases along the way.  I’m not sure where Liz Jones, as the principal songwriter, draws her influences from, though I imagine she’s acquainted with some artists with whom I’m far less familiar.  Regardless, she and Broken Windows get extra credit for bringing her songs to life with such a broad palette of arrangements.  Next time I see them I hope they have the time to roll out some more of the winners from their two albums – and, in a less stately setting perhaps, their carefree cover of the Faces’ ‘Ooh La La’ too!

Liz Jones & Broken Windows - Bricks & Martyrs

“Ready to order, sir?”
“Yes, I think so.  Let’s see – I think I’ll have the Van Morrison à la ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ to start.”
“Certainly sir.”
“Then for the main I’ll have the Songs About Those Puzzling, Appealing, Disappointing, Frustrating Things Called People.”
“An excellent choice sir.  And for the sauce?”

Liz Jones and John Bruce get serious

“Yes, the Lightly Smoked Female Vocals please.  And could I have some Rod Stewart and The Faces In Sensitive Mode on the side?”
“Of course, sir.  And would you prefer white or red with that?”
“Actually I’d prefer the Blues, if that’s okay?”
“You have marvellous taste sir, if I may say so.”

Which is one way of explaining what Bricks & Martyrs by Liz Jones & Broken Windows is all about.  And I could say that this musical bistro is worth at least one Michelin star, but that kind of elitist cuisine isn't how I roll.  This is tasteful stuff to be sure, but it’s still music with roots.
Enough of the food metaphor.  The opener ‘Before Me’ has a loping Latino rhythm, and sparkles of guitar interweaving with tinkling piano, over which Liz Jones’ warm voice delivers a lovelorn lyric set to a delightful, hooky melody.  And there’s more of that Latin feel on ‘Stain’, with Hispanic-tinged guitar from John Bruce, bendy bass from Rod Kennard, and warm piano chords from Jamie Hamilton that lift off into rippling syncopations, while Suzy Cargill’s bongos maintain a steady clip.
Over the piece, this is roots rock with subtlety.  ‘Jo’ rests on a simple motif akin to Peggy Lee’s ‘Fever’, while Jones opens up with a low, resonant vocal, accompanied by conversational interpolations of guitar and organ, topped off with a sinuous slide guitar solo from Bruce.  ‘Candle’ strips things back further, with acoustic guitar and mandolin easing into a gentle, lilting, waltz time feel, some interesting chords getting stirred into the mix en route to a pinging guitar break that’s symptomatic of John Bruce always finding the right tones to fit the song.
The album pivots around ‘Lover’, on which more mandolin strumming from multi-instrumentalist Cargill is underlined by twangingly low guitar notes before nudging into a lighter mood, with layered guitars providing depth.  Jones keeps her singing simple on another delicious melody, with a simple but definitive upward-flickering guitar line the killer touch. Shortly after, there’s the upbeat trio of ‘Wendy’, ‘Call Centre Blues’, and ‘Angel’.  The first of these is a late period Beatle-ish tune, maybe.  Maybe not.  Whatever, there’s lightly funky rhythm guitar, and sharp breaks from Bruce underpinned by grooving bass, while Gary Davidson keeps the drums simple and lets everyone slide perfectly into the pocket as they produce nifty little shifts in the backing.  “Whoo!" Jones toots to herald some sharp lead guitar playing, and who can blame her – these peeps sound like they’re chilling out with smiles on their faces.  ‘Call Centre Blues’ is a loose and nimble protest about nuisance calls and their crap timing, with an arrangement like a mechanism assembled by a master craftsman.  Then ‘Angel’ has Liz Jones thrilling convincingly about a bout of sexual attraction, over some gritty guitar, swinging bass, and Winwood-like organ from the guesting Ali Petrie.
And to finish they serve up the swaying, sensitive ‘On The Ride’, with Jones supplying a gorgeous vocal, enhanced by floating harmonies, over clicking bongos and sparse drums, embellished by piano from Jamie Hamilton that’s like a sun-dappled stream, eventually reaching the sea with an exquisite dying fall of an ending.
It occurs to me that I haven’t said enough about Liz Jones’ songwriting, or the suppleness of her voice.  These are the elements at the core of Bricks & Martyrs, but the whole is still greater than the sum of its parts.  This is an album in which all concerned seem to delight in what they’re conjuring up, in the most ego-free way, and it's captured by producer Jen Clarke with admirable clarity.
It so happens that Liz Jones & Broken Windows come from round my way.  It also so happens that Bricks & Martyrs is a classy collection of blues/Americana/folkie/jazzy roots music that can stand shoulder to shoulder with the best of that ilk that Britain has to offer.  I kid you not.  Do yourself a favour – give it a listen and make your own mind up.

Bricks & Martyrs is released independently on 29 October, and can be ordered here.

Check out the review of the debut album from Liz Jones & Broken Windows (plus some other stuff) here.

Liz Jones & Broken Windows - Voodoo Rooms, Edinburgh, 18 April 2019

A pinch of this, a dash of that, and a soupcon of the other.  What you get from Liz Jones & Broken Windows is a smorgasbord of popular music stylings, tastefully drawn together to create an appetising whole. Which is probably quite enough of the food metaphor for one review.  But to put it slightly differently, their show encompasses some Laurel Canyon-ish singer-songwriter type stuff, some Latin vibes, some moments of jazziness and even chanson, and for good measure some rootsy rock redolent of the late Sixties and early Seventies.  All of which are on

the menu – sorry - in the course of this launch gig for their latest single, ‘Wendy’.

Liz Jones delivers some ooh la la with Broken Windows

Set opener ‘Strum’ typifies the richness of the sound and rhythms they conjure up, with a neatly descending, low-end guitar line, and Suzy Cargill’s percussion augmenting Gary Davidson’s drums and Rod Kennard’s bass.  The following ‘Lover’, meanwhile, sounds like something Ricky Ross might have cooked up on a thoughtful day, with Cargill supplying mandolin and a hooky ascending guitar line this time from John Bruce.

There’s subtlety aplenty in songs like ‘Wise’ and ‘Broken Windows’ itself.  The former is a dark and reflective affair, appealing in its simplicity, trusting a great deal to the depth of Liz Jones’ vocals over asubtle arrangement featuring nice touches of piano from Andy Barbour.  The latter, contrastingly, is an intricate but organic arrangement, on this occasion given added smokiness by guest sax from Jim Francey, with shimmering guitar chords giving way to a restrained but piercing solo from Bruce.  It is, it has to be said, an exceptionally well put together song.

They include a couple of judicious covers tonight. Midway they drop in JJ Cale’s ‘Funky Country Groove’, which was a new one on me but has an authentically laid back Cale feel, with Jones getting into a suitably “somewhere down the lazy river” Tupelo spirit, as Robbie Robertson might have put it.  Better still though, is their version of the Faces’ ‘Ooh La La’.  Not that there’s anything especially clever about their reading – it’s just a great fit for their set, delivered with energy, and a great solo from Bruce.

And they do different kinds of upbeat stuff well, ranging from the excellent ‘No Classic Love Song’, which is jazzy, witty and lively, with some European undertones, to ‘Wild’, which leans on an ‘All Along The Watchtower’-like chord sequence while Jones delivers a lyric about suppressed yearnings to be daring, with Bruce eventually letting rip on guitar.  Especially enjoyable though, are the straight-ahead ‘Angel’, a classy, joyful pop song driven along by fiery guitar and a great hook, and the encore ‘Wendy’, which if not as raucous as the Beatles' rooftop rock’n’roll flourishes is still great fun – as is the accompanying video.

Richard O'Donnell gives it gusto - and a big quiff

My guess is that Liz Jones has created these songs, and put together Broken Windows to play them with her, out of sheer love for making music.  As a front person she may make light of it, but you don't write stuff like this without having some awareness that you've got good musical ideas, and also a compulsion to bring them to life.  She and her gang are making fresh and interesting music for grown-ups, and good on 'em for recording it and playing it live to let others share in it. 

And if there wasn’t enough blues in all that for you, then Liz Jones had hauled in Richard O’Donnell as support to make up for it.  Aside from being an outstanding purveyor of R’n’B ivories, O’Donnell is a stonkingly good curator of old-style country blues.  Armed with a couple of resonator guitars in different tunings, he serves up an energetic solo selection of choons from the likes of John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters.  He delivers some beautifully controlled quiet picking on Muddy’s ‘I Feel Like Going Home’, and attacks Robert Johnson’s ‘Kind Hearted Woman’ with vocal gusto.  But best of all he closes with a bravura performance of ‘Boogie Chillen’, to warm up the audience for the rather different sounds of Liz Jones and friends.

Listened to lately - Ana Popovic, Amanda Fish, Broken Windows and Suzie Vinnick

Ana Popovic – Like It On Top

Outstanding.  If what you’re after is power chords and shredding, then move along, nothing to see here, ‘cause there ain’t none of that on this album from Ana Popovic, largely co-written with, and produced by, Keb' Mo'. More fool you though, because this is, like I said, outstanding.

What we have here is a collection of slinky funk that melds the Pointer Sisters’ ‘Slowhand’

Ana Popovic - Look, no hands!

with Macy Gray’s debut album, but delivered by a gang of blues maestros.  And lyrically, whereas Macy Gray was all edgy, manic sexuality, Popovic is confident, knowing womanhood.

The title track features Robben Ford, who I guess is responsible for the top quality lead guitar, and probably contributes to the jazzy, “everything falls apart” moment. The funkiness is ramped up on the likes of ‘Sexy Tonight’, a Kenny Wayne Shepherd composition on which he contributes both guitar and vocals on an excellent bout of punch-packing bump’n’grind. And ‘Funkin’ Attitude’ has the sassiness you might expect from the title, with squealing guitar, out of the ordinary backing vocals, and some Stevie Wonder-ish keyboards in the margins.

This is nothing though, compared to ‘Slow Dance’.  Here we have a delicious turn around the floor, and an interior monologue in which the female voice explains that her dance partner, the poor schmuck, should absolutely not regard her as a sure thing.  It’s a dreamy affair, with a breathy vocal and almost whispered guitar, set to a lilting tempo.  Perfection.

That may be the peak moment, but other highlights include ‘Virtual Ground’, a less-is-more exercise with supple drums, a Steely Dan sheen, and sprinkles of guitar fairydust from Popovic, and the laid back, bluesier ‘Brand New Man’, with a sizzling guitar solo that’s made to sound effortless.  And just for a bit of variety there’s ‘Matter Of Time’, a stripped down blues with minimalist guitar that folds some slide into the mix, and nothing else but voice and tapped percussion.

There’s more besides, but if you’ve listened to that lot the message should be clear – it’s the songs, stupid!  And if I’d collared this when it was released in September I’d have drooled over it at greater length.  Like It On Top is, frankly, one of the best albums of a very good year.

Go to Ana Popovic's website for details of tour dates in Britain and Europe in 2019.

Amanda Fish – Free

In case you didn’t know, Amanda Fish is the big sis of Samantha Fish.  But if you’re expecting them to sound like two peas in a pod then think again.  Sure, there are a few blues rock songs here that could easily have fitted into Sam’s early albums.  ‘Not Again’ for example, with its ominous, throbbing riff; the intense, heavy and gritty ‘Going Down’ – nothing to do with Freddie King, folks; and the moody, back-to-basics ‘Bullet’, But vocally Amanda has much more in common with fellow Kansas City soul-blues singer Danielle Nicole – and Danielle Nicole at full throttle at that.

And indeed there are a couple of Nicole-like outings of muscular, funky soul early on.  But the second half of the album underlines Fish’s lung power even further.  ‘You Could Be’ starts off slow and steady, with just piano and voice, before taking off into power ballad territory.  ‘Here We Are’ ratchets that up further, slow and tense to begin with, but with good use of dynamics and peppered with slide guitar en route to a big crescendo.  But this all just warming up for ‘Don’t Mean A Thing’, a song of agonised relationship betrayal that features some truly gut-wrenching vocals, leading up to a Holy Moly moment in which Fish’s singing takes on full force gale proportions.

She isn’t a one trick pony though, and the best thing here is in a different vein.  ‘The Ballad Of Lonesome Cowboy Bill’ is the kind of blues-country crossover Shemekia Copeland does so well, a well-crafted tribute to the disappearing wild characters of late night American radio, founded on acoustic strumming but with excellent slide colouring that may well be down to Bob Margolin, who guests on the track.

Contrastingly, ‘The Bored And Lonely’ is an edgy affair that draws a line back through grunge to Noo Yoik New Wave aesthetics.  And then to close Fish flips from that to a soulful piano and vocal intro on the title track, and then as Chris Hazelton’s organ swings into earshot it explodes into a full-tilt gospel workout.

Free is probably a bit overlong, and could do with a couple of its twelve tracks being trimmed to give it more focus.  But with all the material penned by Fish, who also plays bass throughout as well as contributing various guitar, piano and mandolin parts, this second album suggests there could be a lot more to come from her.

Broken Windows – Songs By Liz Jones

Having scribbled a few words recently about a support slot performance by Broken Windows, and referenced their contribution to the Jock’s Juke Joint Vol.4 compilation, I thought I’d take the opportunity to say a bit more about their album, released earlier this year.

Broken Windows aren’t a blues band, though they’ll play a blues now and then.  What they are is something fresh and singular, revolving around the songs and voice of Liz Jones.  If you want a comparison, then KT Tunstall might be a reasonable touchstone at times, or Nerina Pallot perhaps.  Or maybe neither - you choose.

Broken Windows - not a blues band, just a shade of blue

Songs like the eponymous ‘Broken Windows’, with its subtle, smoky opening, and ‘Dangerous Game’, incorporate elements of jazziness, not least in the sometimes ultra-bendy bass of Rod Kennard, and the swing of Suzy Cargill’s percussion which, augmenting Marc Marnie’s drumming, often gives a Latin feel to proceedings.  In turn that gives licence to guitarist John Bruce to explore some Santana-esque sounds, as on the ‘Sambi Pati’-like guitar figure of ‘Make My Night’, over some sweet acoustic strumming and smoochy singing from Jones.  He brings some similarly clear-toned soloing to ‘No Gold’, a showcase for the subtle phrasing and variety in Jones’s singing, as she draws out the sensitivity of the song.

Jones has a way with an intriguing, intimate lyric, as on ‘Wild’, which plays off acoustic jangling against Cargill’s rhythms, until the rhythm section sidles into play in readiness for a jazzy fiddle break from Andrew Hennessey. ‘Stay’, with its line about "When I wake I see your naked shoulder", is a sunny and energetic affair, and reminds me of the softer side of the Faces, of all people, while ‘Roll Me In’ starts in restrained, dream-like fashion, with moody keyboards from Ali Petrie, before changing gear into an up-tempo middle section featuring bursts of scrabbly guitar licks from Bruce.  Must confess I haven’t entirely unpicked those lyrics yet, but I’m working on it.

Fittingly though, the final word goes to Jones, with the delicate intertwining of voice and sparse acoustic guitar on the brief and contemplative ‘Wise’.  As the originator of this album she deserves a round of applause for coming up with such an interesting batch of songs, inspiring the rest of her Broken Windows gang to do them justice.

Songs By Liz Jones is available on digital download from Bandcamp, via www.lizjonessings.co.uk.

Suzie Vinnick – Shake The Love Around

I’m indebted to fellow blogger Rocking Magpie for putting me onto this album by Canada’s Suzie Vinnick, released earlier in the year.  If you like the way Bonnie Raitt ranges across blues and country-ish roots music, then you may well like this.

Vinnick has a characterful voice, that carries the day nicely on the opening track ‘Happy As Hell’, in conjunction with a shuffling intro and twiddly blues riff, before bass and vocal harmonies are gradually added to the mix.  The other side of her Americana style is on

show in the following ‘The Golden Rule’, a folky affair that brings to mind Joni Mitchell, with a catchy melody, some sweet falsetto phrases from Vinnick, and a lyric reflecting on social justice – or the lack of it.

The best song here though, is ‘A Hundred And Ten In The Shade’, which is set in the cotton fields and manages to convey the sense of sweltering heat with its lazy tempo and cicada-mimicking percussion – and again a perfectly pitched vocal from Vinnick.

It’s indicative of Vinnick’s range that she can bracket that with ‘Watch Me’, all guttural guitar riff and real bluesy feel, and ‘Crying A River For You’, a spare and convincing love-and-regret song delivered over pattering drums.  And she’s more adventurous still on ‘The Danger Zone’, a downbeat blues about a “world in uproar”, cleverly arranged for just voice and bass.

Things maybe get a bit samey as the album progresses, though a touch of accordion brings some variety to ‘Beautiful Little Fool’, along with a sparkling guitar solo.  The good stuff outweighs those reservations though, and Shake The Love Around is yet another in this year’s growing pile of keepers.

Grainne Duffy - Stramash, Edinburgh, 8 November 2018

Grainne Duffy is a songbird. That’s not the be all and end all of what she has to offer – we’ll get to the rest in a minute.  But as a vocalist the girl from Co Monaghan in Northern Ireland demonstrates tremendous range and control, with enough power to fill the room too.  She really should be mentioned in the same breath as some bigger names in the female singer bracket as a matter of course.

Grainne Duffy gets laid back, sorta

Pic courtesy of Stuart Stott

That appeal is evident right from the opening track of this show, ‘My Love’, taken from her album Where I Belong.  With its whooping chorus, interwoven guitars between Duffy and the slide playing of husband Paul Sherry, and some skelping drums from Darren Beckett, it makes for a dynamic start.

Duffy then delves back into her first album for the relaxed groove of ‘Each And Every Time’, the country rock audience participation of ‘Driving Me Crazy’, over strutting bass from Phil Donnelly, and the ballad ‘I Don’t Know Why’, on which she delivers soulful singing and also an emotional solo on her Les Paul Gold Top.

She picks an imaginative cover in the funky form of Koko Taylor’s ‘Voodoo Woman’.  Anyone less like a voodoo woman than the charmingly girl-next-door Duffy would be hard to imagine, but it’s still great fun as she shows her ability as a genial front woman, dancing cheerfully and contributing a wah-wah solo as a precursor to a bass showcase from Donnelly and a wailing outro from Sherry.

There’s a bit of a lull in the set before a classic gritty blues riff heralds Bonnie Raitt’s ‘Love Me Like A Man’.  Vocally this is right in Duffy’s wheelhouse, and collectively they do it justice as the whole band turn it up a notch or two.  In fact it seems to me that for the latter part of the show they benefit from the sound being cranked up generally, giving extra bounce to the reggae rhythm of ‘Sweet Sweet Baby’, with its fun, scrabbling solo from Sherry, and plenty of oomph to the crunching riff of ‘Bad To Worse’, with its bump’n’grind second half and “Whoah-oh-oh” singalong.

Then, would you believe it, just as they kick off Duffy’s trademark reading of Etta James’ ‘I Would Rather Go Blind’, a bunch of extra-curricular punters take up residence in the balcony area and obliviously start a loud conversation.  Credit to Grainne Duffy, she doesn’t allow it to phase her, and overpowers their prattle with a spine-tingling crescendo.

There’s just time for the rousing title track of her second album Test Of Time, including a nod to the Stones’ ‘Satisfaction’, and a final encore of ‘The Shape I’m In’, all ringing chords and harmonies, and with a curiously banjo-like solo from Sherry – how’d he do that?.

Personally I’d have liked to hear more of the upbeat material from Test Of Time, which is well suited to her – and Sherry’s – capabilities in a Bonnie Raitt/Tedeschi Trucks oeuvre.  But in a venue that can all too easily suck the energy out of a performance Grainne Duffy and co still deliver a warm and entertaining set to dispel the chills of an autumn night.

Liz Jones dares to be different

Pic courtesy of Stuart Stott

Edinburgh’s Broken Windows offer a refreshing change from the usual blues support band fare.  Led by singer

and songwriter Liz Jones, with her husky vocals, their opener ‘Strum’ incorporates a Latin groove courtesy of percussionist Suzy Cargill, and with the addition of breezy guitar from John Bruce takes on an air of Laurel Canyon-ish West Coast rock.  ‘Dangerous Game’, meanwhile, is a low cut and slinky slowie featuring Parisian-sounding organ chords from Andy Barbour.  There are different dynamics elsewhere, on something I took to be called ‘Well Being’, on which a slow tempo charges into an uptempo phase with Latin-sounding guitar from Bruce accompanied by ample hair tossing from Jones and a rasping vocal.

The Stones’ ‘Play With Fire’ is a good benchmark for their sound too – swinging, chugging boogie, slightly held in check, and coloured by rippling piano from Barbour. ‘Broken Windows’ itself has subtle guitar shadings, a big middle eight, and a tasteful solo from Bruce, while new song ‘Angel’ is ringing, happy-go-lucky, and an out and out winner.  Combining fresh songsmithery from Jones with musicianship from stalwart Edinburgh musos like Bruce, bassist Rod Kennard and drummer Gary Davidson, in addition to Cargill and Barbour, Broken Windows dare to be a bit different, and do a good job of it to boot.

'Snakehouse', with Bernie Marsden and Safehouse - Stramash, Edinburgh, 24 November 2016

And now for something unique, folks.  It’s Snakehouse – a notion born of a chance conversation at the Edinburgh Blues’N’Rock Festival back in July, when Bernie Marsden agreed that yeah, he quite fancied the idea of doing a show with local band Safehouse, playing a heap of classics by the Allman Brothers, Whitesnake and others.  And why not?

And so here we are in Stramash, with Safehouse opening proceedings with Moby Grape’s ‘Hey Grandma’.  Now, who the hell remembers Moby Grape?  I certainly don’t, though the name seems vaguely familiar.  But I gotta say, you’ll remember this full throated stomper the way that Safehouse deliver it, especially for Chris Peebles’ raunchy vocal.  Peebles comes across as a throwback to somewhere in 70s America, all flailing hair as he gets his rocks

Liz Jones gives an extra dimension to Snakehouse

off to the music, underlining the vibe of Southern rock that’s the Safehouse speciality.

They keep up the good work via a great guitar solo by John Bruce on Big George Watt’s ‘Take A Walk In The Wilderness’, and driving boogie with swirling keys on ‘Can’t You See’, until eventually it’s time for Bernie Marsden to enter the fray.  He demonstrates his subtlety right away with the responsiveness to the vocals of his little fills on ‘Double Trouble’, underlined by the lovely Peter Green feel of his interplay with Bruce after his solo.

There are highlights aplenty as Gary Davidson joins them to provide a twin attack with Sean Scott on drums for the Allman Brothers stuff.  This is serious guitar territory of course, and Bruce and Marsden duet to great effect on an instrumental, before Marsden produces a rollicking solo on ‘Black Hearted Woman’.  Not to be outdone, as they all get tied tight to the ‘Whipping Post’, Bruce lets go with a rip-roaring solo that demonstrates the sheer physicality of his playing.  They close this

Bernie gets down to business

portion of the show with ‘One Way Out’, on which they’re joined by Edinburgh harp supremo Gary Martin, and which frankly achieves an insane intensity from Marsden’s solo onwards.

They come back onstage with a smokin’ version of ‘Hush’, on which Bruce shows his mettle once again on his closing solo, before getting funky with Little Feat’s ‘Spanish Moon’.  Tackling ‘Trouble’ with Chris Peebles on vocals prompts the thought, “David Coverdale, oo’s ‘e then?” before Marsden takes centre stage for a rendition of Robert Johnson’s ‘Ramblin’ On My Mind’, which features some nice interplay with Ali Petrie on keyboards, before Bernie gets down to some serious business in the guitar stakes.  And just to underline his Premier League status, he then demonstrates some exquisite tone on Skynyrd’s ‘Simple Man’.

There’s then another shift in tone as guest vocalist Liz Jones joins the band to deliver top drawer lead vocals on The Animals’ ‘Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood’ and Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland’s ‘Ain’t No Love (In The Heart Of The City)’, reinstating some verses that Whitesnake forgot (ie, Bernie forgot when he taught it to them).

They wind up proceedings with ‘La Grange’, with two drummers on the go again alongside bassist Andy Stirling, and serving up as meaty a delivery of the riff as Billy Gibbons could hope for.  Encoring with Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again’ naturally leads to some mass choir practice for the crowd – though personally I’ll always prefer ‘Walking In The Shadow Of The Blues’.

It’s the end of a wild night of music, a celebration of its simple pleasures, and a night to remember for the Safehouse guys and their compadres.  Call it blues, call it rock, call it what you like – this is what it’s all about.