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 the Stones' ‘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, though 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 Frankie Connolly.  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.  And as per usual, 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 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 the sudden 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.