Redfish - Songs From The Fire Station

Tick tock, time flies.  I’m two weeks beyond the release date with a review of this latest thang by north west of England/south west of Scotland band Redfish.  It’s worth the wait though.
Songs From The Fire Station is a four track EP of covers, recorded live at the Old Fire Station in Carlisle, effectively the home venue for the Redfish gang.  
The best moments come with the opening and closing tracks, ‘Meet Me In The Morning’ and ‘Use Me’, both of which display the kind of imagination that makes Redfish stand out from the blues herd.
The first, a Dylan song, is seven minutes worth of long distance travel from the semi-acoustic twanginess

Redfish turning blue

of the original.  The initial focus is on slinky Fender Rhodes piano from Fraser Clark and funky bass from Rod Mackay, garnished with sprinklings of bluesy licks from Martin McDonald.  I sense that a lot of work has gone into giving this arrangement its soulful, jazzy, and relaxed vibe.  Clark’s piano solo eases and flutters its way across the octaves, before McDonald picks up the baton with a guitar solo that teases out and then releases the tension, while Sandy Sweetman’s drums tie things together in lazy, swinging fashion.
McDonald opens ‘Use Me’ with some Hendrix-homage wah-wah á la ‘Voodoo Chile’ which then melts into the soulful groove of the Bill Withers classic, over stuttering bass from Mackay.  Now and then everything drops away except pattering drums and the vocals of Stumblin’ Harris.  Now, Harris may not have the greatest voice in the world, but he does know how to use what he’s got, and he’s very good here, raising and lowering his voice and lending lots of character to the song.  There’s an interesting stuttering rhythm on the go underneath Clark’s piano, and they accelerate smoothly into a yowling wah-wah solo from McDonald, before downshifting again to bring plenty of dynamics to proceedings.  It’s a great song from Bill Withers in the place, and they do it justice.
In between, Hound Dog Taylor’s ‘Give Me Back My Wig’ and Jimmy Reed’s ‘Bright Lights, Big City’ may be less interesting, but they’re still entertaining live fare.  The former is high revving, slide-jangling blues, delivered with plenty of energy.  McDonald goes on a slide guitar toboggan ride, and Clark delivers a barrelhouse piano foray that keeps you hanging on the edge until takes a handbrake turn, and they fairly charge towards the buffers at the end.  ‘Bright Lights, Big City’ is more sturdy, mid-tempo boogie, with the ivories well-tinkled in a Johnnie Johnson stylee, and a warped-sounding guitar solo to add a different flavour.
All in all Songs From The Fire Station is good enough to make me wonder why they didn’t add a few more tracks and produce something more substantial than this tasty appetiser.  But less is sometimes more, and all that.  In any event, Redfish have followed up their album Souls with another demonstration that they’re not just yer typical 12 bar blues bashers.  And that shouldn’t really surprise me any more.

Songs From The Fire Station is available here.

Redfish - Souls

It strikes me, listening to Souls, that Redfish dream large.  Not in terms of world domination commercially I imagine, but perhaps at least in terms of realising their artistic potential.  Though probably the quintet from the environs of Carlisle and Dumfries don't think about it in quite those terms.

The bedrock of their sound is John Mayall-esque British blues (sans harmonica), with hints of Born Under A Bad Sign thrown in for good measure.  They certainly do a bang-up job on straight-up bluesiness, as on the strutting boogie of ‘One More Fight’ for example, and the

funky ‘For The Love Of The Wrong Woman’, which is well served by both the piano and guitar solos, and is one of several songs on which they employ guest horns to good effect.  Their feel for the essentials extends to the moody slow-ish blues of ‘It’s A Very Lonely Life’

Redfish - walking in the shadows of the blues

too, with its smatterings of guitar over a steady bass groove, and a spot on organ solo from Fraser Clark, and I’m taken with the happy-go-lucky, Georgie Fame-like feel of the closing ‘Hallelujah Road’ too.

But they also manage to throw some twists into this kind of material, such as the throbbing and swirling clavinet-type sound on the opener ‘There’s Nothing Else’, matched by a fitting guitar tone from Martin McDonald on his solo.  Or the stop-start vocals from Brian ‘Stumblin’’ Harris on the funky ‘(Kick Up) Hell’s Delight’, with its effects-treated guitar break and shift to a snappy, Squeeze-like closing refrain.  And Harris clearly makes an effort to produce smart lyrics too, as on the wittily acerbic ‘Don’t Waste The Good Stuff’, which has organ and jagged slide guitar getting into competition towards the end.

But it’s the fact that they stretch their range beyond these mainstream stylings that really deserves applause.  They’re brave enough to keep it simple, for example, on the finger-snapping ‘Rakehells’, with its earworm of a stride piano figure and shuffling, swinging rhythm from drummer Sandy Sweetman and bassist Rod Mackay.  Clark adds a rippling piano solo, and McDonald some slide, but they don’t clutter up the tune en route to its oddly abrupt ending.  More dramatically, ‘Hate The Song But Not The Singer’ kicks off with a quietly crooned, hesitant vocal from Harris over the most spartan guitar, and when the band crank it up the vocals become more angsty and pleading, with suitably rough guitar giving way to some jazzy Rhodes piano.

‘Shadow On My Soul’ has an original sound too, its feel apparently inspired by Nina Simone.  Sweetman lays down a novel rhythm on percussion, augmented by handclaps, while McDonald and Clark contribute a sparse guitar/piano motif that puts me in mind of ‘Sloop John B’ of all things, and Harris delivers a patient, keening vocal about wanting to “scream like Roky Erickson”.  There’s some fitting piano embroidery from Clark, and a trombone solo courtesy of Chris Riley, and the upbeat coda is nicely done even if it might have been better kept for another song.

I could probably mention some other quibbles, but to hell with that.  Redfish are a bunch who have paid their dues, musicianship wise, and it shows.  More to the point, they haven’t plodded along a familiar blues rut from one end of Souls to the other.  Instead they’ve shown a spirit of adventure, set out to explore some fresh angles, and done it with conviction – and good on ‘em for that.

Geoff Achison & The UK Souldiggers, and Redfish - Voodoo Rooms, Edinburgh, 21 September 2019

I’m late, I’m late, for a date with a more than interesting support act.

As it turns out though, Redfish are only a song and a half into their set when I arrive at the Voodoo Rooms, in time to hear Martin McDonald serving up a fiery guitar solo and Sandy Sweetman giving the drums a fair old skelping.  And the Carlisle/Dumfries combo maintain that momentum from there till they vacate the stage.

I’ve seen Redfish a couple of times before, and a singular ingredient of their live performances is the fidgety capering of beardy, bunneted keyboard player Fraser Clark, who often looks like he’s delivering tic-tac-toe signals for a racecourse bookie.  I’m bound to say

Redfish keys man Fraser Clark listens closely for the lost chord

Pic by Stuart Stott

that in the past I've found his antics distracting.  But now, well really it seems like an endearingly daft display of enthusiasm.  And more to the point, it doesn’t detract from some entertaining piano prestidigitation on his part, rocking away on ‘Rakehells’, for example, while McDonald contributes some mean slide guitar.

‘For The Love Of A Good Woman’ is a good example of the Sixties British blues angle to their sound, underlined by the John Mayall-like stylings of Brian Harris’s vocals, and with more good guitar/piano interplay into the bargain.

They close their set with Charlie Rich’s ‘Feel Like Going Home’, a pleasingly different and soulful choice of cover, with hints of ‘Whiter Shade Of Pale’ in Clark’s organ playing.  Awarded an encore, they get funky with ‘Phone Booth’, Sweetman and bassist Rod Mackay laying down a solid groove while Clark goes nuts to the point where his head ends up underneath his keyboard, and McDonald adds a ruff’n’tuff guitar solo to put the lid on proceedings.

Redfish have become an impressively robust outfit over time, showing energy, a real feel for what they’re doing, and some good taste in material.  Watch out for a forthcoming review of their album, Souls.

Geoff Achison finds fresh angles of funk on guitar

Pic by Stuart Stott

If Redfish are rooted in Sixties blues stylings, Geoff Achison pursues a rather more distinctive path.  As the Australian and his UK Souldiggers band kick off their set with ‘Working My Way Back Home’, the vibe is funky and free-flying, with Achison adding a husky vocal and unwrapping great tones on his pretty-as-you-please PRS guitar. They also work in some clever turnarounds, and keyboard player Paul Jobson announces his presence with some jazzy piano, adding up to a sophisticated funk-blues sound.  Their “theme tune” ‘Souldigger’ follows, with lots of witty asides from Achison on guitar, a flurry of bass from Andy Hodge, and a distinctively voiced organ solo from Jobson, en route to a characteristic Achison solo combining slide and wah-wah.

‘Walking Blues’ is a good example of what they do, with Hodge and drummer Sam Kelly laying down a swaggering groove with plenty of swing, a nimble fingered solo from Achison, and then some top notch guitar/organ interplay building up to a major funk workout.  It may be a Robert Johnson song, but as Achison observes with a grin, “We changed it a little!”  Instrumentally they’re a band who join the dots with consummate ease – upfront Achison and Jobson are each constantly alert to the other’s moves, while Hodge’s bass both counterpoints Achison’s guitar and ties it into Kelly’s rhythms.

But it’s far from being all serioso muso stuff – Jobson shakes everything but his tush as he underpins the rolling groove of the catchy ‘High Wire’, while Kelly is often to be seen and

Achison and co get down to some soul digging

Pic by Stuart Stott

heard hooting with pleasure at proceedings.  Meanwhile, with just a wah-wah pedal at his feet, Achison continues to combine it with slide playing, but on ‘Crazy Horse’ also gets into some cooler knob-twiddling and whammy bar flicking to conjure up different sounds.

A second set opens with Achison on acoustic guitar for the rootsy ‘Skeleton Kiss’, with its intriguing lyrics, and the more folkie, fingerpicking ‘Sovereign Town’.  Then with Achison back on his electric horse, ‘I’m Gonna Ride’ is a blues shuffle highlight, with a big open chorus adding a twist, and Jobson delivering a blisteringly good honky tonk piano solo, including some neat improvisations around the chorus melody.  In fact, if Fraser Clark’s keys playing demands acknowledgement, above and beyond his freaky shenanigans, I’d venture to say that Jobson is in another league, bearing in mind the jazzy, discordant and hugely impressive solo he contributes to the Average White Band-like ‘Voodoo’.

They close with a big fat groove on ‘Baby Come Back’, a fun song with a good hook and some tongue twisting vocals from Achison, who also adds some tips of the hat to ‘Alright Now’ and ‘Uptight’ on guitar.  There’s no time for an encore, but they’re coaxed back for one anyway, coming up with Muddy Waters’ ‘Sugar Sweet’ – but not, I’m sure, as Muddy would know it.  Nevertheless, with a brief guitar/bass face-off between Achison and Hodge, it’s a suitable dessert course to end an entertaining night.

Geoff Achison is touring Britain until Sunday 29 September - details available here.

Jock's Juke Joint Volume 4 - Various Artists

Happily, the first thing to be said about this latest selection of tunes from a range of Scottish blues artists is that they all pass muster - no duds, and with a pleasing degree of variety on display.  Several of the acts featured have been covered at Blues Enthused before as well, so watch out for the links below to learn more.

But to begin at the very end, the least blues-like and most astonishing offering here comes in the form of Neil Warden’s album closer ‘The Alchemist’.  With his Weissenborn lap steel guitar to the fore, over dreamy soundscapes courtesy of Stuart Mitchell, the veteran Edinburgh guitarist delivers an instrumental that comes over like a cross between an Arabic

Neil Warden - prepare to be astonished

version of ‘Cavatina’ and Angelo Baddalamenti’s theme for Twin Peaks.  Calling this atmospheric is like saying Usain Bolt is a bit nippy – listen and be struck dumb.

The opening track is an entirely different kettle of fish, in the form of ‘Too Many Guitars To Give Up Now’, the title track from the latest album by Andy Gunn.  A slice of good-time boogie infused with the spirit of ‘Roll Over Beethoven’, it references Gunn’s youthful discovery of “Jerry Lee, Little Richard, Fats Domino” as it barrels along with handclaps, rocking piano, and a fizzing solo from Gunn.  Its closest relation here, stylistically, is the rockabilly-leaning ‘Pebble By Pebble’ from Used Blues, an energetic romp garnished with shots of blues harp from front man Andy ‘Honeyboy’ Smith to complement the guitar of Jim Gardner.

Of a trio of R’n’B tracks scattered across the album, Five Grain Whisky’s ‘Sidewinder Blues’ is the pick of the bunch to these ears.  The rasping voice of Alex More is to the fore, sounding like he’s woken up from a long session on the aforementioned hooch as he snarls that “You’re lower than a snake’s belly-oh”.  It’s likeably simple, swinging and well-constructed, with a pleasing organ solo from Marty Wade.  ‘Temporary Man’ from Chasin’ The Train doesn’t have quite the same vim, but it sets off imaginatively with an intro of crackling vinyl grooves and slide twangery of ‘In My Time Of Dying Man’ proportions, before settling into a lively chug-a-boogie topped off by a biting guitar solo from Rory Nelson and wailing harp from Bob Clements.  Redfish add a convincing Stax soul twist to the formula

Redfish - not immaterial men

on ‘Immaterial Man’, riding along on a bobbing bass line from Rod McKay.  Fraser Clark’s organ playing fits the bill, though lacking the St Vitus Dance visual dimension of his live performance, but this leaves more room to admire the slithering, jabbing quality of Martin McDonald’s guitar.  And there’s a suitably soulful quality to the vocals of Stumblin’ Harris, on a song that here and there reminds me of Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland and ‘Stormy Monday Blues’.

There’s a different brand of soul in evidence on ‘I’m The Boss’, by Melissa Kelly & The Smokin Crows, one of a clutch of songs from outfits led by female singers.  Think ‘Think’ - in the sense that Kelly manages to produce a convincing Sixties sound in the vein of Aretha Franklin, full of parping horns and funky riffing as a foundation for Kelly’s energetic vocals – including a fresh-out-of-the-box whoop near the end.  The Lynsey Dolan Band offer an alternative proposition on ‘I Won’t Bring You Bring Down’.  With the light vibrato of Dolan’s vocal, a lush sound with piercing guitar from Gavin Bussey, and a yearning chorus laden with harmonies, it would do a good job as the closing theme to a movie romance.

Broken Windows, featuring singer-songwriter Liz Jones, produce something more personal with the song from which they take their name.  Is it blues?  No. Does it matter?  Same answer.  Across seven minutes ‘Broken Windows’ is a captivating affair, with Jones communicating intriguing imagery with sensitivity against a backdrop of subtle shadings from the rest of the band. It’s a rich rhythm section, with Marc Marnie’s drums augmented by

Broken Windows' Liz Jones gives it big licks

Suzy Cargill’s percussion and some bendy fretless bass from Rod Kennard.  Meanwhile John Bruce, a guitarist more often to be found playing straight up R’n’B or late Sixties American rock, explores a different palette that leans towards a Carlos McSantana vibe, and with Ali Petrie on keys the whole crew give the track a rousing crescendo.

Glasgow-based Aussie Charlie Marshall is a firecracker of a singer and frontwoman, and with the 45s serves up an animated, sassy performance that conjures up the ambience of an old-time N’Awlins speakeasy, drawing on the horns of Gordon Dickson and Fenwick Lawson, jungle drum rhythms from Michael Harrison, and jazzy piano from Tim Brough. The thing is, this is just a vignette of what Charlotte Marshall & The 45s can deliver – see them live to get the full effect.

Also in a New Orleans vein is ‘Velvet Windows (Treme Trippin’), from London-based Wily Bo Walker. A rich gumbo of a tune, it features Walker’s gravel-voiced storytelling over funky bass from Tommy Rhodes, tripping drums from Max Saidi, a battery of horns, keys colourings from the ubiquitous Stevie Watts, and some neat guitar from Mike Ross.  All told a minor work from Walker perhaps, but still a satisfying one.

Strolling a less rumbustious path are the Simon Kennedy Band, and Al Brown & The Blue Lighters. Kennedy’s ‘All Or Nothing’ ambles in on a ripple of piano and bursts of organ, and builds to an anthemic chorus given a gospel swell by some uncredited female backing vocals, while Kennedy adds some understated guitar licks wherever it takes his

Firecracker chanteuse Charlotte Marshall

fancy, ahead of a tasteful solo.  Meantime Al Brown is smoother than a silk stocking on the aching heart blues of ‘Caller Unknown’, as restrained a piece of bluesery as you’re ever likely to find, with some ooh-ooh-ing backing vocals reaching towards doo-wop territory.

Mike Bowden and the A917 Band offer a different form of subtlety with the semi-acoustic sounding ‘Poor Man’.  It’s plaintive and beguiling, understated but resonant, with an earworm of a chorus and a subtly Latin rhythm courtesy of the wonderfully named Big Vern on percussion. In it’s simplicity, ‘Poor Man’ is another of the standouts of the album.  Stoney Broke, alias multi-instrumentalist Jake Scott, is still more acoustic, a warm and dreamy affair with a nice melody and a well-judged electric guitar solo that complements the song.

Also stripped-back, but in a different fashion, is the Delta stomp of Andrew Robert Eustace’s ‘Broken Down And Beat’.  With a hypnotic groove, Eustace’s growling voice, a brittle guitar solo and a catchy chorus, it's one of the highlights of his album Stories.  And as old-style Mississippi as it may sound, the steady grind of it provides a curious link to the alt.blues of Black Cat Bone and Full Fat.  The former capture their lead-heavy, grungy blues rumble well on ‘Morning Light’, with groaning vocals and howling harp from Ross Craig over a dirty, fuzzy bottom end.  Full Fat don’t demonstrate quite the same raw conviction, but the trio’s ‘Temper Temper’ still has an offbeat, discordant energy that shows promise.

So there we have it – 18 tracks that show off a variety of contemporary sounds from artists with a Scottish connection, tracing their roots to the blues to a greater or lesser degree.  Get yourself along to Jock's Juke Joint, find your own favourites, and go explore!

The Friday Session - Carlisle Blues Rock Festival, 28 September 2018

It’s Friday, it’s 5 to 7, and it’s standing room only in the ballroom of the Crown & Mitre Hotel as we arrive for our first visit to the Carlisle Blues Rock Festival.  But it turns out to be well worth standing for the duration to see the four acts on offer.

First up are local favourites Redfish, and they turn in a much stronger performance than when I last saw them, in a support slot in Edinburgh. They deliver a solid set of old school R’n’B, with warm vocals and relaxed patter from bunnet-wearing front man Stumblin’ Harris.

Redfish - Bunnets Are Us

There are funky undercurrents on the likes of Bill Withers’ ‘Use Me Up’, with nimble bass from Rod Mackay and some neat drumming diversions as a bonus.

Their own material fits in well alongside a punchy version of ‘Messin’ With The Kid’ and Magic Sam’s ‘Every Night And Every Day’, with measured solos from guitarist Martin McDonald and boogieing piano from all action keys man Fraser Clark.  It all adds up to an entertaining set that has me acquiring their new EP at the interval.

The Chris Bevington Organisation have produced one of the albums of the year so far with Cut And Run, so I was looking forward to seeing them live, and they didn’t disappoint. With a nine-piece line-up it’s no wonder that other commitments mean there are stand-ins depping for two of three of the usual band, and sadly this includes guitarist and core contributor Jim Kirkpatrick.  I suspect the loss of his interaction with co-conspirator and vocalist/guitarist Scott Ralph dilutes the dynamic of this ensemble affair a bit, but Jordan

The Chris Bevington Organisation get cookin'

Swann does a good job of filling in.  He contributes a sizzling lead guitar intro on ‘Coming Down With The Blues’, eloquent playing on ‘Tin Pan Alley’, and a squealing solo on the excellent ‘Got To Know’. The last of these also features pumping bass from Chris Bevington, gutsy rhythm playing from Ralph, and strong punctuation all round.

‘Better Start Cookin’’ features a trumpet solo and call and response organ and guitar, underlining the variety they can bring to bear.  Ralph fronts operations with brio, and by the time they get to ‘Ain’t Got Nobody To Love’ his Cheshire Cat grin sums up the enjoyment both on and off the stage. They close their 50 minute set with the totally danceable ‘Rollin’’, closing a live show that emulates the vibrancy of their latest album.

Elles Bailey unshackled 

Elles Bailey is a more soulful proposition, but gets the ball rolling with a couple of familiar barn-burners in the form of ‘Let Me Hear You Scream’ and ‘Same Flame’ from her album Wildfire, before offering us something new in the form of the soulful ‘What’s The Matter’.  A cover of Levon Helm’s ‘When I Go Away’ suits her nicely, with some very Stax-like keys from stand-in ivory tinkler James Graham, and some good vocal interplay to boot. Depping drummer Craig Connett also shows up well, with good cymbal work to rev up the intensity on the Muscle Shoals tribute ‘Perfect Storm’, with its strong melody, while another newie in the form of ‘Medicine Man’ is offbeat, driving and dynamic, with appealing slide from Joe Wilkins.  

‘Shackles Of Love’ continues to be my favourite among her material though – a song with a great hook that wouldn’t be out of place on a Bonnie Raitt album.

She tells us that another new song, the thumping, train-like ‘The Road I Call Home’ will be the title track to her new album in the spring, before returning to familiar territory with the emotive ‘Girl Who Owned The Blues’, with its stomping conclusion, and ‘Wildfire’ with its moody slide solo from Wilkins.

Elles Bailey’s amiably daft and self-deprecating chat always makes for an engaging performance.  But more to the point she has a great voice, strong original material, and bags of potential still to be explored.

Guitar totin' Siegal and Cigaar

Topping the bill for the night is Ian Siegal, who has gone way past the point of being described in terms of potential.  Still, I do believe that he’s found another gear this year with the release of his latest album All The Rage.  Coming on wearing a headband, with his festival lanyard flapping around his knees, he eases in with the characteristic, immediately sing-able melody of ‘Shotgun Rider’.  He and the band raise the temperature with the clacking favourite ‘I Am The Train’, with inimitable guitarist Dusty Cigaar being – well, inimitably Dusty.  But they really hit the bullseye with ‘The Shit Hit’, on which a wild slide solo from Siegal is a prelude to a bout of finger wagging, electrifying truth telling.  On an entirely different note, the classic blues of ‘John The Revelator’ interpolates ‘Back Door Man’ in rowdy fashion, and leads to an outbreak of dancing from some of the ladies.  Then it’s back to Siegal at his most withering with ‘Eagle-Vulture’, its spiky guitar line embellished by wafting notes from Cigaar.

A different kind of highlight comes with the North Mississippi Hill Country blues of CeDell Davies’s ‘She’s Got The Devil In Her’.  It’s followed by ‘Gallo Del Cielo’, which apparently a patron begged for tonight, and on which the poor damn chicken inevitably meets a sticky end once again, before Siegal closes out the night with the lovely ‘Sweet Souvenir’.

The clock strikes twelve and it’s time to head for bed.  Will twelve hours be enough to let us rest up for the next day’s fun and games?

You can find a review of the Saturday afternoon session at Carlisle here.
And the Saturday night session is reviewed here.