Dave Alvin & Jimmie Dale Gilmore – TexiCali

Alvin and Gilmore have long careers in American roots music with notable separate catalogues compiled within the Blasters, Flatlanders et al before striking out solo. Along the way Alvin collected a Grammy and Gilmore was nominated. Both artists have toured continuously over the years and upon a recommendation decided to pair up and have since toured together off and on. This is their second joint release of covers and original material. 

Alvin and Gilmore only duet on four songs: The Death Of The Last Stripper, Betty And Dupree, Down The 285 and We’re Still Here. The latter is a jaunty piece of rock n’ roll that acts as a homily to their longevity. With Gilmore in his eightieth year and Alvin having battled cancer there’s no doubt they’re survivors. The album’s an excellent mix of americana, blues and storytelling. Gilmore starts the album with Borderland, his composition with engaging lyrics about life on the Texas border. Gilmore has reedy vocals like Willie Nelson that seem deft at picking through a story. The excellence of the band (The Guilty Ones) immediately strikes you: fluid, discrete, sympathetic and able to switch between moods and sounds seamlessly.

The album title originated from the origins of the artists with Gilmore from Texas and Alvin from California, something both are proud to emphasise. Alvin’s sound is less americana with a blues tinge. Blind Owl sees him in Kansas in hot midnight rain after a gig contemplating the next town. With a chugging riff that develops into sleek rock whilst propelled by harmonica as Chris Miller on electric lead delights. Alvin delivers the vocal in his part talk and sing style. (‘Blind Owl’ refers to Alan Wilson, a member of Canned Heat until his early death, and a song Alvin wrote and has performed with Canned Heat.)

This is a beautiful listen by two accomplished troubadours with a fabulous band in support. It’s heartening to have a selection of songs with interesting lyrics that give up something new on every listen. Class will out, top drawer.

Johnny Blues Skies – Passage Du Desir

Johnny Blue Skies is Sturgill Simpson: a nickname given to him by a barman in Kentucky decades ago. He doesn’t now plan to release solo albums under his own name. Apparently he’s no longer that person. Given the twists and turns in his career then this decision is just another curved ball from this intriguing maverick.

He came to prominence with two Dave Cobb produced albums in 2013 and 2014 that were straight country with Outlaw vibes. What was clear was that his rich baritone could hold a tune and he could write one. Exhibiting an attitude and personality along with alluring musicianship the albums were rightly coveted. At this point a major record label seized him, promoted him heavily and his next release, A Sailor’s Guide to Earth, bagged a Grammy. Frankly, I found this release to drift away from the good work he’d done on his earlier efforts but it did demonstrate his ability to purvey more than country.

At this juncture Simpson produced two fabulous albums for, debutant, Tyler Childers, fell out with the music industry, released an anodyne rock album (Sound & Fury), got to a position where he needed to take time out due to substance misuse and all along dabbled in acting. In 2020 he was back with some splendid bluegrass on Cuttin’ Grass Volumes 1 and 2 before2021’s excellent The Ballad of Dood & Juanita.

His latest release takes him back to the 1970s with americana, Southern Rock and blue eyed soul. There are also one and a half tracks of country here: Who I Am, and the Jimmy Buffett pastiche, Scooter Blues. The rest takes me back decades and the tunes could have come from The Allman Brothers Band, Cate Brothers or even the Average White Band.

During its incubation he’s been travelling collecting his thoughts and creating space from the USA and the music industry. France was one destination and we start with an accordion and violin on Swamp Of Sadness. It’s seton the streets of Paris and the song builds to go gently electric to “Spend my days in a haze, floating ’round in the Marais / Nights under the bright lights at Mignon on Beaumarchais.” The French capital is where he wrote most of the album and hence the exquisite sleeve photograph. (Scooter Blues originated in another location on his sojourns, Thailand.)

The blue eyed soul of If The Sun Never Rises Again could have graced the charts both sides of the Atlantic back in the day with this slow lilting dance tune and a lyric about restoring his intended – “All we need is starlight in our eyes”. Jupiter’s Faerie is haltingly about a suicide and the mournful delivery reminded me of its virtual namesake Drops of Jupiter by Train replete with 80s strings. Mint Tea is straight Southern Rock and Simpson’s sparse yet tasteful lead guitar is a complete treat, it grabs the song and hoists it high for all to marvel. The soft rock of One For The Road wades in at just under nine minutes and is a cathartic love song with words such as “I wanna taste all the grapes on your vine / I wanna leave all your bottles empty and broken / I wanna say that you’re all mine / But words are often better left unspoke.”

He’s a complicated chap who’s cerebral about his view of the world and his place in it. Simpson can turn to treasure the music he makes; this album is another chest full. It’s an easy, mellifluous and delightful listen. Despite my protestation about its tenuous sonic links to country music I fear it’ll appear on some end of year lists but, hey, I lost that battle a long time ago. Enjoy.