For a band that has clocked up 20 years together then it’s surprising that Volunteer is their 6th studio album. However, when they did get to the famous RCA Studio A in Nashville it was also their good fortune to have the much sought after Country/Americana alchemist David Cobb as the producer. It would be unfair to suggest that OCMS wouldn’t have dished up this fine album with a lesser sorcerer on the dials.
Grammys have come their way and despite being important Americana stalwarts then they still have great affection for their street corner roots, where legend has it, Doc Watson found them and gave them their first major billing at MerleFest. In fact paying their dues the hard way, building up a US nationwide following, still remaining on the road and never getting remotely drawn into the commercial Nashville scene keeps their feet on the ground. To keep a loyal fan base you have to keep producing the goods and Volunteeris a varied, well played, uplifting and seasoned piece of work.
“Flicker & Shine” is an apt summary of their first couple of decades – “Well I’ve been all around this world, Young and running wild, I’ve played with the fire that burns, And I’ll live on the highway until I die”. A joyous and energetic bluegrass folk riot that states their creed and modus operandi. With feathers truly ruffled the band changes gear with a Country work out on“A World Away”. Ketch Secor’s harmonica drives this sweet tune.
“Look Away” puts fiddle to the fore over Cory Younts piano chords. A hook laden, wistful ballad that could be off any album by The Band tells the tale of seeking a simpler way of life back in the South from an earlier lifetime. “Old Hickory” has violins in tandem as the story of Virgil Lee with his fiddle and flat top guitar. We behold the tragic tale of his talent being enjoyed but passing and his legacy being “Like a old hickory, Shadin’ the porch of a house that’s been torn down”.
“Homecoming Party” slips into pure (and sublime) Glen Campbell as the weary musician tells of his early morning return to his family after an arduous tour. He anticipates the morning with the expectant children, the household chores he needs to resume and the affection of his much missed wife. The reality collides with the glamour of the life of a travelling entertainer. In the same style we finish with “Whirlwind”. Critter Fuqua’s slide guitar provides easy rhythm on this parting and melodic love song.
OCMS effortlessly slip between various genres and styles. For those who’ve enjoyed them live there will be some tracks you’ll be cranking up and others where you’ll admire the peerless musicianship and song writing. OCMS are still at the top of their game and this is one for my end of year list. Terrific.
It seems very jaded to continually refer to the age of the Stones in a review but frankly it was quite inspirational the way these septuagenarians ran around the large stage bringing every classic song to life with their energy. Such is the contemporary nature of the performance that you can nearly forget, that in terms of curators of popular music over the last 50 years, they are a phenomen.
This concert at the home of England rugby union, Twickenham, was described as a homecoming. It is around these parts of west London that the Rolling Stones got their initial residences in the mid 1960’s at small venues and the rest, as they say, is history.
The 50,000 who turned up paying vast sums for Black Market tickets along with those who paid the face values of £90 ($120) were treated to a blistering two hours of songs encompassing their whole catalogue. The 19 song set kicked off in daylight with “Street Fighting Man” from their 1968 Beggars Banquet. Jagger strutted, Wood and Richards exchanged licks with smug sly glances between each other and Charlie Watts kept immaculate time with an upright posture that you could imagine a 1950’s midwife would adopt as she propelled her heavy bicycle to the next delivery. Stadium rock comes with giant screens and this is how you keep up with the action. Predictably the cameras concentrated on the original members and it took a slot where Jagger introduced the band to get images of the other stalwarts who in the case of Chuck Leavell (keys) and Darryl Jones (bass) have been in the band decades. In fact Ronnie does well to get the ‘original’ accreditation having only been in the band 43 years.
“It’s Only Rock ‘n Roll” followed and Richards resplendent in bandana, green shirt and matching shoes showed his chops with some guitar passages. Next was a track off Exile On Main Street, namely “Tumbling Dice”. Woods took most of the guitar responsibilities and unfortunately the comments that Woods was technically inferior to Mick Taylor always comes to mind when he plays these parts. Apparently Taylor left the Stones as the drug fuelled madness started to threaten his wellbeing. The large screens caught the subtle nod that Richards gave Watts to bring the song to a close. Inevitably Jagger was probably 50 metres away from the band at the front of the extended stage.
Jagger introduced the 1966 classic “Paint It Black” with the quip “A nice cheerful number for you!” And so the hits kept coming but also the blues. From the sublime 2016 Blue & Lonesome we got Jimmy Reed’s 1955 “Ride ‘Em Down” that just made me wonder how marvellous a Stones gig would be with them just playing the blues.
Into all lives a little rain must fall and in the case of a Stones gig it is where Jagger exits for a long costume stage and Richards gets to play a couple of songs. The crowd had loads of love for Keef but the boy could barely sing a few decades ago and his two numbers meandered by with an increasing level of chatter noise or people fetching that next drink. For all the missteps then in fact his first song, the 1969, “You Got The Silver” had some fabulous acoustic slide from Woods.
Normal service was resumed as Jagger ran back on stage and we continues through the decades. “Miss You” surprised me by being more than the faux disco number I had long discounted. Jones bass lines were thunderous and matched the party atmosphere of the crowd who leapt to their feet and gyrated with their plastic glasses aloft.
So on the last lap we ended with “Brown Sugar” after a memorable rock blues workout on “Midnight Rambler” with Woods truly unleashing some incendiary guitar. No one made a move for the exits because the encore was to come. In this case we finished with “Satisfaction” but special mention must go the the highlight of the penultimate song “Gimme Shelter”. With Sasha Allen taking on Merry Clayton’s heart rendering and soul drenched vocals. The lady sang her heart out in front of Civil Rights graphics whilst Jagger cavorted around her.
A few bows and they were gone. This is my third Stones concert (1983 and 1995) and time doesn’t diminish the pleasure in terms of the spectacle or hearing the catalogue. Let’s not have any debate: they are still the world’s greatest rock ‘n roll band.
There is a movement of angry souls who feel that the ‘Big Three’ record companies have hijacked Country music (and Nashville) and now clog US radio with ‘Bro-Country’. This sub-genre is where the money is and it is maddeningly narrow in terms of gender, type of tune, instrumentation or lyrical content.
As I step back and look at the artists – usually photogenic males between 25 to 35 years old – I temper my disappointment as not every chart success coming from Thomas Rhett, Sam Hunt and Brett Young is unacceptable. However like an invasive species of animal it has evicted artists who are certainly female and purvey anything approaching the historic legacy of Hank, Merle, Johnny or Dolly. That is, a three minute soap opera of a story, lashings of pedal steel or any deviation from sub-Rock n’ Roll.
Maybe in another place I should expand on the failure of traditional Country music to remain contemporary rather than blaming some fat cat record executive, on the 31st floor of a sky scraper, who has no appreciation of the heritage and is funding vacuous ditties about tight black dresses, cold beer and pick up trucks (on a Saturday night).
If keepers of the flame are in retreat then there still are signs of life. Chris Stapleton, Jason Isbell, Sturgill Simpson, Margot Price and Lee Ann Womack are shifting considerable units whilst self righteously declaiming Nashville. Some recent music from the above has been fabulous but I’m taken with the emergence of the songwriters getting in front of the microphone rather than their clients.
Brandy Clark is now well known and ploughing her own furrow whilst being accepted on her own terms. Exceptional music presented in a very understated way with few frills, rock riffs, photo shoots or sponsors selling fried chicken (Reba, what were you thinking?). Other interesting songwriter releases in 2017 came from Kendell Marvel, Travis Meadows and Radney Foster. However, Erin Enderlin’s wondrous 2017 USA release Whiskeytown Crier is a tonic for those losing their faith about the absence of exquisite talent writing and singing traditional Country music. In June 2018 it makes its UK debut.
Enderlin has already had some compositions picked up and made popular by Alan Jackson, Luke Bryan and Lee Ann Womack but it is timely for her to get some personal recognition.The simple arrangements and instrumentation takes us back to the 1990’s with just enough accompaniment to leave the vocals and sentiment as your focus. If you were looking for an album dripping with staggering Country melodies saturated with melodrama and heartbreak then surely this is it.
She’s been a Nashville resident for nearly 15 years and has called on some very illustrious friends to help her. Jamey Johnson has had a hand in the production and former flat mate Chris Stapleton lends his vocal talents to a couple of songs.
“Baby Sister” starts the album with that mischievous Brandy Clark “Stripes” vibe. Her sister has problems with her disappearing with her former beau:
“See, my sister Gina, she always was the pretty one Just like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s She coulda had any man so I thought he was just another one Till that no tell motel shotgun epiphany”
She turns up with a pistol to break up the tryst. An assertive vocal with a flat drum beat starts with her laying out the case for the defence whilst name checking Reba and setting the Country music landscape of motels, firearms, potential hospitalisation and the volatile nature of relatives. Add a killer chorus and you have a winner.
The single “Ain’t It Just Like A Cowboy” places us in a world of heartbreak and resignation as she expands on the reality of sharing her man. In four and a half minutes we get a whole Box Set of pain where the characters reveal themselves. Ultimately his fake affection is accepted with Enderlin reflecting that maybe the failure is hers. It is all beautifully told with her strong and expressive voice accompanied by an acoustic guitar. The chorus hails a tasteful pedal steel and harmonies. The pace and finger prints of Jamey Johnson seem to be all across the track.
“When Broken’s All You Know” picks up the threads of two lost and reckless souls in a relationship from the wrong side of the tracks. She leads us through the inevitability of fracture and the decision to give away her child so that it has the best chance of escaping the downward spiral their lives follow. On this slow paced acoustic classic she gives her most accomplished vocal performance; it’s incredible that she hasn’t found the charts herself. Stapleton shares the harmonies.
“His Memory Walks On Water” deliciously reveals her Southern accent. A lyric starts with a man’s death and the longing that his daughter has for a positive memory. This tragic yet distorted recollection of him has him “like John Wayne in a Cadillac” despite the reality that he was pretty useless and a drunk. It is Country music pathos played out with pedal steel and your heart strings.
I could keep describing each song, as they are all as captivating. She co-wrote them all barring the two covers. Those illustrate her references with Gram Parson’s “Hickory Wind” and “’Til I Can Make It On My Own” co-written and made popular by Tammy Wynette. On the latter she manages to bring that world weary yet resilient determination that the original had.
If you been waiting for the brilliant ladies of Country music to re-appear with gold then you’re patience has been rewarded. This would nestle comfortably alongside anything by Trisha Yearwood, Lee Ann Womack, Nanci Griffiths and the best of early Reba McEntire. Guess what’s at the top of my ‘end of year list’ at the moment!
So you roll into a bar and on stage is your dream band. They’re loud, irreverent, tight, menacing and probably on the wrong side of too many shots of whiskey. Welcome to Ben Bostick and his sublime band (Hellfire Boys) on his second album, Hellfire. However this isn’t just a bunch of good time journeymen troubadours; Bostick is the real deal.
Bostick put together this album after a residency at a bar in LA and it fits the forte of the band perfectly. John Would (Warren Zevon and Fiona Apple) co-produced the album and the ‘live’ feel is evident from the first song. This sound was achieved by the band arranging themselves in a circle in the studio and playing live, without headphones, using stage monitors to hear the vocals. I was transported to Memphis, Sun Studios, as the energy hits you in waves like a series of short jabs.
However, it was in California that this South Carolina raised tour de force recorded these eleven tracks. You get the full nine yards of Americana – Country, Rock, Rockabilly and probably other sub genres that I’m not sufficiently engaged in to drag out here. Bostick’s other talents lie in being able to pen a superb lyric. He’s an English graduate with credentials in creative writing. Don’t worry – he doesn’t get precious but has an ability to find a killer couplet and perfect description.
“No Show Blues”starts the album with an off key plaintive howl.
“I’m gonna go to the bank and cash out my account
Drive straight to the tavern and drink a disgusting amount
Spin my pistol and baby you better look out
Cuz wherever it points I’m coming to your town”
And welcome to the band – Kyle LaLoneon guitar shows his chops with a sizzling guitar solo as Luke Miller on a Nicky Hopkins-esque honky tonk piano adds flourishes in front of the driving rhythm of Cory Tramontelli’s bass and Perry Morris’ drumming.A wicked start.
If that was Americana then we’re headed for pure Johnny Cash Country with the title track, “Hellfire”. If you check the internet you’ll see a wonderful Bostick rendition of “Folsom PrisonBlues” and he brings a lot of that vocal and phrasing to this composition. The feel is just right not least with those thrashy and thumping drums. The lyrics are sublime with a 1960’s story of cold feet at the prospect of marriage and the dissolute solution of getting drunk in-between trips to church seeking redemption for his sinful ways! “Tornado” continues this style but this time he plays the hapless victim of a gal whose impact is this type of inclement weather.
“No Good Fool” is probably the most commercial song with his rich baritone tones warning his paramours that he’s good fun for the night but less reliable as a long term prospect. Maintaining that high energy the band cooks with Miller adding organ to the piano which continues to add texture and interest to the whole sonic picture.
“The Outsider” has angular guitar and deep resonating bass, which is more Iggy Pop than Music Row and pulls together the attitude of the album. This is how Bostick feels about himself and he’s said that in the confusion of what really constitutes Country music these days then maybe this is where his music falls. If you like your Country to have a slightly jagged edge with its feet definitely in contemporary Americana then pull up a seat; you will feast long and hard.
Some of the best Country tracks released in 2018 are to be found on this album by Nashville domiciled Texan, Ross Cooper. If you start with the fact that Cooper raised $21k via crowd funder website Kickstarter to get this album promoted then you obviously won’t find the fingerprints of a major record label across it. However it is only a matter of time before they come calling.
The twelve short tracks are a cross between mainstream Nashville Country and Americana Country Rock, although the PR threw up Alt-Western as the genre. That somehow seems to fit the atmospheric title track with its cinematic vista of horses, tumbleweed, rodeos and bars. Cooper had an earlier career as a bronco rider and writes with considerable experience of the lifestyle, travel and injuries. He relays this through the thoughts of a retired rider reflecting on the highs and lows but taking considerable satisfaction at the thrill of his tussle with unharnessed nature. Eric Masse produced the album and he’s been accumulating experience with some stellar artists. This included working on Miranda Lambert’s The Weight Of These Wings. Along with his talent on the dials he brings a fabulous selection of Nashville musicians. It’s here that we first hear the incendiary and heavy guitar of Jeremy Fetzer as he sets the track alight with a blistering solo toward the end.
Cooper slips easily between light and shade. “Another Mile” is a fast paced acoustic pop tune where a pleasing chorus is supported by being driven along by a band of guitar, keyboard, pedal steel and drums. However, the sweetest traditional Country outing is ‘Lady Of The Highway’. Cooper lays down his homage to travel on the road. Eddy Dunlap’s delightful pedal steel gives the song charm and personality. Take note this should be at the very top of the Country charts NOW.
“Strangers In The Bar” intimately clues you in on a routine pick up and sounds like Kip Moore over a throbbing beat. The words are succinct – ‘And you should come with a warning, you’ll be alone in the morning. Fishing for the first of many drinks, Hooking fools on the first of many winks.’ We feel that ‘busy life on the road vibe’ and its loneliness. Here two people find temporary solace in each other’s arms after a seemingly well rehearsed pas de deux.
A rolling rhythm against a backdrop of organ accompanies the final track “All She Wrote”. He recounts the terseness of his lover’s moving message of goodbye. Ironically he finds all this out as he reads her note (that he forgot to open half a day earlier) where she tells him that it ‘doesn’t feel like she’s leaving, cause you can’t leave a man already gone.’ Short, impactful and armed witha great hook.
His distinctive and attractive vocals are always able to sound rowdy but he can find that slower Country tender heartbreak tone. Each track is beautifully crafted and there is just so much damn catchiness about it all that you may have withdrawal symptoms.
Lastly, in a recent interview Cooper says about the music business “It changes every day, but I’d say for most artists like me there’s always a struggle with giving an audience a reason to care. It’s not enough being a good singer-songwriter anymore because there’s so much music out there that’s great. You have to be constantly working and constantly moving”. This is true, but, Ross, trust me they will care. You’ve absolutely nailed it here.
What a joy! James Scott Bullard has delivered a Southern Rock album par excellence and the title says it all – Full Tilt Boogie. “Lord Have Mercy” is an electrifying start with a soaring lead guitar with slide fills and Bullard’s Country vocal delivery. In the mix we get a bass line so deep it needs a mining permit and following we get the rumble of the Hammond organ as it introduces a perfectly drilled backing chorus.
This is a band you have to hear: together they fit like a glove. Can they boogie? Oh yes! Bullard on rhythm guitar, Jeff Springs on lead guitar and Kevin Singleton’s bass are a force to be reckoned with. This selection of hard-hitting rock songs is self penned and was recorded in South Carolina. Bullard’s gift or good fortune is working with Missy Davis Jones and Ken “Dakota” Jones. Through the quality of the song writing, arrangements, energy and high production values they’ve elevated this work to be a triumph.
“Wicked Ways” adds to the incendiary atmosphere. It sounds like the third song into a live set when the band really starts to cook. A distorted guitar plays rhythm and Justin Banks’ organ swirls and swoops. Before the smell of cordite clears “All To Pieces” keeps the groove. A lovelorn lyric follows – “I never counted on a love so true, no I never thought a man could be so blue”.
Lyrically then “Hey, Hey Mama” isn’t Shakespeare with instructions to “put your good dress on” and advice that he’s going to love her like ‘it’s against the law” (which, we can all agree is probably too much information). However, I’m nit picking as the song sparks while a walking bass line bounces beneath that exquisite organ.
It’s worth saying at this point that Bullard is a firearm-carrying, ex-addict, ordained minister. I’ve read a lot of Americana biographies and surprisingly, he’s not unique! If all this has contributed to the quality of Full Tilt Boogie then the journey hasn’t been in vain.
The album’s accompanying PR places Bullard in Country Rock and I suppose I can concede some Outlaw in the confection but only “Jesus, Jail or Texas” sits him comfortably in the genre – hell, even the title shouts Country! The guitar lead suggests Dickey Betts. Rest assured this is not a bad place to be and may find him a wider audience.
“Leavin’ On My Mind” sees Mike Knight drive this along on skins as Bullard takes us on a tour of Memphis, the Mississippi and Austin before moving through Louisiana to the Carolina Pines whilst the band boogies. “The Next Year” is a radio friendly tune which mixes Southern Rock and Tom Petty with an addictive ’60’s pop guitar motif and is the most commercial track on the album.
I thought I heard angels when the twin guitars introduced “Back To You” and we slip into that Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin’ Man/Jessica” vibe. Bullard hitches a ride on a Southbound train leaving his lover sleeping to free his spirit only to regret his departure as he visits every town in Dixie. Just sublime.
When I tried to figure out the many reasons why I really enjoyed Bindley Hardware Co’s first release, Ever Satisfactory, it wasn’t the fact the band were named after the lead singer forebears’ retail outlet, but the irreverent and entertaining lyrics. It also helped to have a great Country Rock sound with some fine tunes.
Jon Bindley has an independent mind. After falling out of love with Nashville he returned to his hometown, Pittsburgh, where he (unforgivably) coined the genre ‘Rust Belt Americana’. His disenchantment with Music City had him reporting, “it felt a little disingenuous. You know everyone’s wearing a Stetson hat and cool tattoos and loves Townes Van Zandt”. His back story suggests that he is a serious student of song writing and this album displays that it was time well spent.
With a superb selection of musicians Bindley has created an important 32 minutes. “Down The Run” warns of avoiding violence in Greenfield, a suburb of Pittsburgh, where a teenager might find himself on the wrong end of a knuckle sandwich. A steady rock groove showcases the sound of guitar – acoustic and electric, bass, keys and drummer.
“Alright, Already!” has a thumping beat. Bindley sings of rolling with the punches and playing it by ear as to what life throws up. Delightfully the band steps up: particularly Christopher Putt on guitar and Waylon Richmond on violin. Putt is a real asset; with his variety of sounds he lends the album a tremendous quality and breadth.
“Good Ones” places us in Country music’s preferred venue for rumination: the bar. Here our hero reflects on the trials of being left with a selection of women who have been picked over. Presumably in a state of inebriation he tells his lucky winner the words she’s been longing to hear “you’re not the girl of my dreams!” The traditional melody had me imagining Keith with a cigarette in the side of his mouth leading the Stones through “Faraway Eyes”.
“Queen Of The Upper Middle Class” is an acerbic tour de force. “She’s a product of the suburbs, real luxury type of gal” may be tongue in cheek but could be a little close to the truth. A hard-bitten spoilt woman falls under Bindley’s critical gaze as he surmises that her entitled and pampered lifestyle makes her repellent. Fiddle and banjo lead and we get a gentle bluegrass melody with harmonies, which border on a hoe-down that gives this a real pace to match the story.
I never thought I would write that the duet is the standout track but Bindley and Angela Mignanelli have proven me wrong on “Easy Game”! Bindley and home town girl, Mignanelli, swap their disagreeable idiosyncrasies on their way to arrangements over a future liaison – “I’m easy game but I can be tamed”. Their chemistry is palpable and the words delicious, especially in the flirtatious spoken exchange. Hot!
Well, what an unexpected delight. I hope the record gets some traction and more people get to hear it. A real find.
I was reading a book I bought in Canada called The Chitlin’ Circuit And The Road To Rock ‘N’ Roll by Preston Lauterbach. For those who know little about the circuit then it was a selection of venues in the American South. The circuit was initially popular for large bands that played to dance goers in small and often lethal venues. The story is not only about the locations, African American culture and music but also the promoters. Predictably the promoters were less than lovely: prostitution, illegal gambling and money laundering came in tow. The venues were often dangerous. They had no fire safety and there is a horrific story about the loss of 244 lives in Natchez, Mississippi when one such venue caught fire. I cycled past the plaque in 2015 on my way to New Orleans. In this instance the event organisers had sought to keep out gate crashers by nailing the windows and doors shut.
Chitterlings were pig’s intestines and associated with an African American diet. The history says that their taste for such offal arose from what was left after their white employers took the choice cuts. So the venues were for African Americans and it was here that some of the most remarkable and legendary acts started their careers. When recorded music became popular the folk wanted to hear them play live. This co-incided with rising costs of putting large acts on the road. So the venues turned to recording artists who often performed alone but maybe backed by a pick up band. This worked perfectly with Blues and early Rock n’ Roll.
So anyway as I’m reading this book about this phenomena I came across Champion Jack Dupree as a ‘bouncer’ at the Naptown Nitery in Indianapolis in the 1940’s. He was already a barrelhouse pianist in demand after having playing live for many years and having recorded several sides for Okeh Records. The club in question was owned by Denver Ferguson the pre-eminent promoter on the Chitlin’ Circuit.
At this point I remembered my father’s record collection.
My father loved jazz. He played a four string rhythm acoustic guitar in the Royal Air Force (as well as repairing Halifax bombers) and collected records (which were passed to me). These were mainly Dixieland and his heroes were Louis Armstrong, Bix Beiderbecke, Kid Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton, Frankie Trumbauer, Wing Manone, Muggsy Spanier and other bands of the late 1920’s and 1930’s. When he passed I looked through my vinyl inheritance and there was this album, it seemed very out of place. It was like someone discovering a Kanye West record in my collection. (In case you’re interested then no I haven’t).
He liked the Blues if it was played on a cornet and had a funeral paced trombone pouring emotion behind. Granted, he had the obligatory Bessie Smith records but why Champion Jack Dupree? I’d love to have asked him.
In some idle emails with Steve Jessney of Nothin’ But The Blues radio fame on Vixen 101 William Thomas ‘Champion Jack’ Dupree came up and Steve forwarded some of his recording for me to absorb. This I did and I then reached for my Dad’s vinyl. Dupree is described as a barrelhouse piano-player and Blues singer. There is beauty and emotion in his soulful voice that is complemented by his rolling piano that fills the gaps or keeps the rhythm. In fact the sound is complete and the need for other instruments is often not necessary. This is early 20th Century Blues in the late 20th Century, which could only be played by a man of his heritage and background.
If I had to write about a fictional Blues musician I could never have dreamt up Champion Jack. My attempt would include some prodigious talent, a lot of racial prejudice, New Orleans as a birthplace, possible being orphaned and then some addictions before legendary status and reverence.
I would not included a father from the Belgian Congo and a half African American and Cherokee mother who were killed in their house by a fire started by the Klu Klux Klan. Credibility would be stretched by a career that involved 107 boxing bouts and the winning of the amateur title of ‘Golden Gloves (affording our hero the prefix of ‘Champion’). Now venturing into nonsense the pugilist would make ends meet by being a cook (mainly of New Orleans cuisine, of course). These were skills he’d use in the US Navy during the Second World War where he’d end up in a Japanese POW camp after his ship went down.
Subsequently he’d decide after a music career in the deeply prejudiced Deep South to move to Europe. He’d calculate that he was welcome and the competition for well paid gigs was less. Here he’d live in England, Denmark, Switzerland and Germany before dying in the early 1990’s. Along the way he’d be cited by white Blues megastars as an influence and also play with them.
Oh, yes and I wouldn’t have thrown in the three wives or the eleven kids.
Dupree spent his brief marriage to Shirley, a white waitress he met at a London club, in Ovenden. This is about 45 miles from my house in West Yorkshire. Ovenden’s entry in Wikipedia tells you that it boasts a population of just over 12,000. Its main claim to fame is being a former home of Dupree!
In fact the town is close to Halifax, a much larger town. Halifax is typical of many towns that have declined and or reinvented themselves after Britain’s industrial decline. The Calder Valley on which it sits historically was a centre of wool, carpet, confectionary and machine tool production. Today it’s best known for a bank that includes its name in its title.
Not all the locations that I have visited in the USA match the romance of the names. Without seeking to tarnish them then Muscle Shoals, Clarksdale, New Orleans, Highway 61 and the rest are important but not easy on the eye. I have to say that Ovenden wouldn’t have been in my improbable fictional Blues musician’s life. He must have loved her!
As regards the album then in 1982 Dupree was living in Hanover; this is his third album with guitarist Kenn Lending. Lending is Danish and he recorded and played with Dupree for the remainder of his life accumulating around 12 albums and over 1,000 concerts. The age difference was 45 years; it is unimaginable what Lending learned. Dupree was probably glad to have a younger and fitter companion for all the touring that they did to make a living!
The album still sounds contemporary with several songs that touch the edges of rock n’ roll with their boogie woogie rhythms. Lending plays a key roll often behind the piano in the mix but usually getting a turn at the melody as the young Dane picks on his Gibson delicately around the more robust stride piano of Dupree. Ten tracks are simply played and produced but it is a full sound.
When not singing he can regale us with a chat about Ray Charles’ in “Baby Please Don’t Go” or the evils of LSD in “You Better Kick The Habit”. “Rockin’ The Boogie’ is contemporary as it sounds and the telepathic electric guitar relationship comes to the fore. All bar one are self compositions. Roosevelt Sykes’ “I Hate To Be Alone” is the exception. Unusually this involves some unison vocals with Lending.
Lyrically throughout we get the full nine yards – women problems, humour, drugs, loneliness and a little bit of Christianity on the spiritual “Good Lord Born On Christmas.
Always in command and never straining you know he’s completely in control and probably only unleashing a small amount of this talent. The piano playing on “You Better Kick The Habit’ gives glimpses of the sophisticated jazzy patterns he could weave.
In between the vocal interjections redolent of old Bluesmen comes the humour. On the title track “I Had A Dream” he tells us about his mother in law. “She was crazy. I knew she was crazy… but not about me!”
I shall be rummaging through some jazz vinyl racks to see if I can lay my hands on more Dupree/Lending gems. If there is anything to remember from this ramble then don’t dispose of your Dad’s records as I came back to this 28 years after he’d gone.
You could forgive Lauren Stovall for saying how nice it was to be in the ‘village’ of Selby. She was a little wide of the mark: it has a population of over 15,000 (plus a McDonalds for heaven’s sake!) There again in the USA what we’d describe as a village they call a city.
The Railsplitters were approaching the last week of their UK tour after having been on the road since early January. They started in Australia and this was their third visit to our shores. They describe themselves as Bluegrass. However, a quote I stole, places them as more ‘Crosby, Stills & Grass’. I think in part that works fine.
As a local resident then how the delightful Selby Town Hall got a Colorado string acoustic quintet to play is still something of a surprise to me. Being sold out must be a joy for any visitors to discover. Judging by the audience’s lack of familiarity with any of the catalogue then I have to disclose that I expect most concert goers had bought tickets for a season of music, which included Boulder’s finest.
The band was slow to warm up, it wasn’t until their third song that they hit their stride and we got to hear Stovall’s fabulous and pure voice on “Lessons I’ve Learned” from their excellent third album, Jump In. The small, elderly and very wooden clad venue necessitated a minimum of amplification and the sound was very close to the albums. For the most part you could hear a pin drop as the 150 or so sat enrapt.
The accomplishment of the musicians and the seemingly democratic approach to how the band works was evident. The bass of Jean-Luc Davis held it together whilst the mandolin (Pete Sharpe), banjo (Dusty Rider) and violin (Joe D’Esposito) took various leads. Three of the 18 songs were instrumentals. The band covered all their three albums and threw in a couple of covers. On the latter Stovall asked “How many Dillard fans are in tonight?” As the tumbleweed rolled across the stage she gulped, recovered and said “oh well, there’s 5 on the stage!”
It was her voice and, on occasion, three part harmonies with Rider and Sharpe that enthralled. My particular highlight was “Everyone She Meets”. However, “Planted On The Ground”, “You” and “Where You Are” were memorable. The song structures are very melodic with the strings picking up the tune whilst Stovall’s guitar strummed rhythm. The interplay between banjo and mandolin was sensational and the amplified mandolin often mimicked an electric lead guitar.
Humour and bonhomie abounded on stage. It was pointed out that Jean-Luc had no French or Canadian connection and so why was he called this? The band volunteered ‘false’ facts between songs. The person who could identify which one it was could claim a free CD. I’m not sure which one it was but Joe D’Esposito claiming to be a Swansea City fan seemed as improbable as Pete Sharpe having been struck by lightning.
So after a couple of joyous sets they did the obligatory North American touring band put down of Donald Trump and launched into the traditional Bluegrass “Fly Around My Pretty Miss”. After this encore they were gone into the cold dark night and some other small town in the UK awaited.
(I have to be fair! Stovall, later in the second set, did work out that as they were playing at Selby Town Hall she’d been wrong about the ‘village’ and was gracious to concede and volunteer ‘Hey, I’m American!’ The audience loved her for that).
Colter Wall received a warm Yorkshire welcome as he strolled onto the stage at The Wardrobe in the centre of Leeds. If Colter wasn’t surprised, then I was, that well over 300 people turned up at this intimate venue to see this young Canadian strut his stuff. He’s currently doing a few UK gigs and has already been in Continental Europe.
With an amplified acoustic guitar Wall worked his way through his 2017 eponymous album and much of his 2015 Imaginary Appalachia EP. The crowd were familiar with his work and sang along in places. The bearded troubadour briefly introduced songs from beneath his Stetson and let his wry and panoramic lyrics speak for themselves as his distinctive slow paced baritone phrasing often engrossed. He sings of Canadian prairies, motorcycles, Highway 61, railroads and projects that he glimpses life, in North America, as a drifter.
The seventeen song set included a few covers (‘Wabash Cannonball’ and ‘Railroad Bill’). I really appreciated this nod to the past as it clearly illustrates that he’s steeped in American Roots music. All these songs fitted seamlessly into his catalogue. There were a few new songs and amongst the selection was ‘John Beyers’ – an excellent song that recounts friends firing bullets into their respective ’69 Chevrolet Camaro’s! However, it was the songs from the last release that brought the biggest reaction. ‘Kate McCannon’ went down a storm. I expect many had viewed the surprising YouTube low budget video, shot under grey skies. It depicts lives going nowhere, the expectations and necessary graft to create a life together and the treachery that eventually results in her fatal demise.
In fact it was on this song that the gift of Dave Cobb surfaced tonight. The album created the same intimacy that Rick Rubin captured with Johnny Cash on his America Recordings. On the record, in a classically stripped down setting, the voice commands with every inflexion, pause and deliberation. The timbre, depth and unique sound of Wall’s voice brought out the audience tonight. However, sometimes with the usual venue amplification and the wretched, unforgivable, babble from the bar crowd then some of that intimacy and impact was lost.
‘Codeine Dreams’, ‘Me and Big Dave’, ‘Motorcycle’ and the hilarious ‘Thirteen Silver Dollars’ were especially memorable. He opened the set with the latter and explained that this was a “true story about falling asleep in a snow bank” – we can all sympathise with such a predicament as who hasn’t at one time or another had this mishap!
I came away wondering if Wall will be an artist enjoying the same following on the next album? Cobb’s collaboration is the difference between interesting music and the propulsion to fame. He has the song writing talent and voice. I hope he gets the setting to produce more compelling releases. For all this then the crowd left happy and I for one hope that other visiting young and upcoming Americana entertainers can get them out in such numbers regularly.
(It was a pleasure to attend the concert with Mark Sutcliffe, who it’s be fair to say will recognise some of his observations in the above! Supporting Colter Wall was Ian Noe, a Kentucky folk singer).
LIONHEART is North Carolina’s H.C. McEntire’s debut release of nine self penned compositions. The title sums up her feeling about the courage to strike out and release music under her own name. This album fits delightfully into a slot of intimate, uplifting, melodic and lyrically interesting Country Americana with a possible drift into Folk.
North Carolina’s Heather McEntire has spent her career progressing from Post Punk to this dulcet and crafted genre. Her recent day job has been a combination of playing with Mount Moriah and more recently being a member of Angel Olsen’s touring band. She says that much of the album was composed whilst on the road with Olsen. The songs didn’t fit Mount Moriah hence the solo debut.
Affairs start with “A Lamb, A Dove” a plaintiff unadorned vocal that shows the beauty of McEntire’s voice against some occasional piano chords before building to involve harmonies with Tift Merritt and the nagging siren qualities of pedal steel. The song alludes to McEntire’s journey of coming out in the South with acceptance anxieties from her family and the tense background of the legal battles that the Gay community face to get equality in the Southern States. Lyrics include – “I have found heaven, In a woman’s touch, Come to me now, I’ll make you blush”. And connection with her spiritual side – “It’s a wild world, That will make you believe, In a kingdom, Full of mercy and faith, It’s a fine line, And I will walk it with grace, Come like a dove, I’ll show you love.”
However whilst this may be an important statement from McEntire I wouldn’t want to leave an impression that the album is a long heartfelt ‘message’. The tracks here stand alone and they are mellifluous, constructed at the right pace, have beautiful instrumentation and are delivered with lovely voices.
Such a track is “One Great Thunder” with heavenly voices and strings. It is a short ethereal piece that transported me to Delibes’ “Flower Duet” from his Opera Lakmé. It is simply delicious and a demonstration of her considerable talent to create such a short piece of heaven.
“Baby’s Got the Blues” is a pulsing but gentle acoustic rocker with Hammond behind the clear and assertive vocals with support from Ryan Gustafson. Some of the words hook you with mentions of “dogwood, surrogates, mama buried the revolver” etc. but what it all means is beyond me and starts to come across as a touch jumbled.
“Wild Dogs” is back to a slower pace where her vocal is backed by Angel Olsen’s different but exquisite harmony back in the mix. Meanwhile a cello and strings provide the accompaniment – “When we were wild dogs, How our teeth were stained with blood, From the fire, from the hunt, When I held for you that lust. ”
Despite the vicious lyric it is a delicate and captivating song! Maybe this is one of the intriguing and attractive elements of the album – that mix of delicate melodies with some disordered yet memorable imagery in the words.
This is one of those Americana albums that will be noted for its immense beauty and intensity. I expect to return to it regularly during the year.
Picture, if you will, a wide-open range with a couple of hundred steers shuffling at a hurried pace creating a dusty haze in the heat. The camera pulls back to find our lonesome cowboy leading his horse at a brisk pace singing “No One To Blame”. This is Dusty Rust, long time resident of Kansas City, Missouri, delivering a Country & Western tune with his attractive baritone. We get pedal steel, fiddle and reverb guitar as he channels his inner Frankie Laine.
Dusty Rust has been plying his trade for some years (sadly, not on horse back) and this is his third release. A quick search on YouTube finds him documenting a tour through Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Washington and Missouri playing minor venues. He’s typical of many touring artists waiting for that elusive propulsion into The Big Time.
“I Was Wrong” brings to mind 1960s commercial Country, à la Glen Campbell, as a banjo picks out the melody whilst Rust’s winning and expressive vocal tells you of his heartache. This is on top of a nonchalant rhythm, all held together by harmonica. “Ride” continues in the same upbeat vein but pedal steel picks up the melody whilst the guitar chimes; I can imagine Rust singing, eyes closed and his head tossed back, up on the stage of these small bars whilst couples take the floor in front of him.
He has an ear for a melody. With crafted, structured and layered arrangements we work our way through 38 minutes of music that I’d describe as contemporary traditional Country. There’s plenty of Honky Tonk and Outlaw to be behold but there is that measured tunesmith sensibility. Making this record exceptional is Rust’s production. Subtle layers involving guitars, pedal steel, fiddle, banjo and piano, often way back in the mix, create a sound that places it in this millennium despite it’s 20th century origins.
Arizona includes the ambiguous description of his transport as a ‘slightly stolen van’! The stellar arrangement creates that ‘60s sunshine pop feel whilst exiting with present-day sounds that would impress Adam Granduciel.
“Hell On Fire”, my album highlight, picks up the recurrent theme of girl trouble, albeit this femme is more than tricky after shooting the farm’s banker – “Hey San Diego, how far are you? I’m shot in San Francisco and there’s nothing I can do, The lady I love is hell on fire and the world’s about to burn, The next train I’ll get to leaving, she’s no longer my concern, I’m out on my way”. Like a novel this tale unfolds whilst electric guitars howl behind the acoustic and drum shuffle creating that eerie and haunting atmosphere that this surprising story demands.
With only nine tracks we’re treated to all killer and no filler. With the supposed resurgence of traditional Country making a commercial comeback (albeit it helps to have an obligatory Willie Nelson duet and be supported by Jack White) then Dusty Rust may just catch the tide. Music as good as this deserves a much wider listen. Indulge me.
It’s been six years since Grayson Capp’s last solo album but Scarlett Roses is well worth the wait. This sixth release is a compelling combination of interesting words, great tunes, arrangements and production values that elevate this to one of the best late 2017 releases.
Capps appears to have now settled in Mobile Bay with his family after spells in New Orleans and Nashville. On my cycling travels then I have a working knowledge of many parts of the USA. In fact I well remember the ferry ride from Dauphin Island across the neck of Mobile Bay in Alabama. On the other side of this brief ferry ride was a continuing route along the Gulf Coast to Florida. It transpires that I was only 30 miles away from Fairhope, Capps’ new domicile. A really beautiful place to live.
The album reflects on life and love. In fact the lyrics are a highlight – we trip from lightweight love ditties such as “Hold Me Darlin’” to the dreamy musings on, the title track, “Scarlett Roses”.
On this Capps explains “That song came to me in that whole whirlpool of dreams, mixing emotions about old love and daughters and sons and ageing parents, it’s an interesting thing that happens when you let yourself enter that relaxed, hypnotic trance state. You start singing and all these lyrics just start coming from all these different places.”
“I watched you sail out on the ocean’
For a land to find your dreams’
You held out scarlet colored roses’
And you threw them in the ocean’
And they floated right on back to me.”
The album, if it has to be placed in a genre, is very much Country Rock. The pop sensibilities blend nicely with Americana (and its rougher-hewn edges). The ‘Rock’ comes from the long time collaborator, Corky Hughes, who wields a mighty axe. His career has included Black Oak Arkansas and he can either deftly fill in or ignite with a blistering solo.
Such an opportunity presents itself on “Taos” where excoriating distortion with a brooding thumping backing track allows Capps to howl about a 1,500 mile drive across Louisiana, Texas to New Mexico. Eventually the song slowly grinds to a close with feedback. The speakers bubble and gurgle worthy of Neil Young. I can well imagine playing this frightening loud and beating the steering wheel as the miles slip beneath the wheels. Enormous.
“Bag Of Weed” is a James McMurtry type trip around the community with characters he comes across explained and sympathised with as they struggle. This cinematic song is pure Country in its melody and delivery. Capps has explained, when playing this live, that it serves as some form of antidote to the typical Nashville lyrics that have little resonance for him at least.
The album has shade and light in the sound. Production was shared between Hughes, Capps and Trina Shoemaker, his accomplished wife. Shoemaker has worked with Sheryl Crow, Brandi Carlile, Rodney Crowell and the Dixie Chicks.
“Moving On” showcases Capps attractive voice – it holds a melody beautifully and demonstrates its character with a slight huskiness. The song is a Country tune drenched in harmonies and harmonica with ‘Dicky Betts’ guitar signatures, a rolling gait rhythm supported by an acoustic foundation.
Capps in all his interviews seems to talk about finding peace. Clearly the album came together over a period of time; it gives an insight into his mindset as he clocks up a half century. On “New Again” he throws in some thoughts on growing old:
“I’m getting old, my friends have died
I never got to say goodbye,
The dead they don’t miss you when they’re gone
Me too I’ll up and die,
But for now I’m still alive”
Despite his reflections on mortality then I expect there’s life in him yet. If you’re new to this talent then I urge you to catch up.
Newcastle on a New Year’s Eve is cold and dank with temperatures hovering at around 5°C. However the hardy natives brought in the New Year with a septuagenarian sensation from America’s Deep South, Candi Staton, at the Sage Theatre in Gateshead (a bridge walk from Newcastle). She ran through her catalogue of Southern Soul and classic 1970’s disco. The audience, several possibly only a couple of decades behind Candi, were resplendent in their party outfits and danced in the aisles and lapped up this night of glitter ball action. The revellers had come down from Scotland and further south in England: such was the draw.
Twelve songs over 80 minutes showcased her long recording career from “I’d Rather Be An Old Man’s Sweetheart”, released in 1969, through to 2014’s knock out “I Ain’t Easy To Love” from the Life Happens album. Both songs she explained had come from her collaboration with Muscle Shoals, legend, Rick Hall. (I, for one, genuflected at this point. For diligent readers then you’ll recollect that I rode a bike from Toronto to Muscle Shoals, Alabama to stand in the immortal Fame Studios). Her career has had gaps and it is a wonderful that she is now back regularly releasing albums and appearing on stage, notably in Europe. A six-piece band included her son, Marcus Williams, on drums, and former Style Council founder, Mick Talbot, on keyboards knew their stuff and immediately hit a funky groove. There was no loitering here! The crowd were soon in motion.
Much of her earlier chart success came with disco covers and we were treated to “Stand By Your Man”, “In The Ghetto” and “Suspicious Minds”. Most of the audience could sing along even if they knew the songs as originals by Tammy and The King. With the audience now well into their stride throwing shapes she lit the afterburners and the opening chords of “Young Hearts, Run Free” brought the expected loud cheers and a surge of energy. “You’ve Got The Love” kept the fans up and moving before an encore of “Hallelujah Anyway”. Then she waved goodbye and was gone.
Aside from the music Candi recounted stories of the Chitlin’ Circuit (a circuit of live music venues in the South of the USA notorious for being less than salubrious) and ensuring payment by the brandishing of a small pistol. However, for all the bravado, this is a God fearing woman. She told us she was blessed to sail into 2018 after the losses of Billy Paul and Percy Sledge in recent years. In fact her explanation for her continuing to perform was that “God has a purpose for me… and my work ain’t done yet”. When she said this then I wondered where I stood on Divine Intervention and a Mark Cohn line from “Walking In Memphis” came to mind – “She said, ‘Tell me are you a Christian, child?’ And I said, ‘Ma’am, I am tonight!’”
I think we can all agree we were blessed. A completely wonderful evening.
Despite seeing The Average White Band live then it wasn’t until sometime later that I really got into this majestic Scottish Soul outfit and bought their records. I’d seen them supporting Wishbone Ash; sadly like most support bands I’ve ever seen then I just wished them away so that my reason for being at the gig could start.
The ‘White’ album by AWB has folklore attached to it and is revered in many circles as one of the very best Soul albums ever released. This improbable collection of Scotsmen found themselves in the USA after recording this, their second, album which their then record label, MCA, subsequently had no interest in releasing. By this stage the band had played together for some time and their ‘sound’, song writing and machine precision tightness had been developed to such a degree that Los Angeles rather than Dundee came to mind.
After the blow of rejection then as luck would have it they met Jerry Wexler (of Atlantic Records and the mentor of Aretha Franklin) at a party. They had their tapes with them. He knew gold when he heard it and the band were despatched to Florida to record the album, again, with legendary Soul producer, Arif Mardin.
This 40+ minutes of Soul nirvana caught the USA by surprise after it’s release by the very ‘whiteness’ of the band. Black radio stations happily (ignorant of its Caucasian origins) played the singles. Inevitably black audiences streamed into venues to witness the music first hand. Considerable amazement followed as six badly dressed and very hairy pale Scots strode onto the stage. The disappointment soon passed as the act caught fire.
The album also caught fire and made it’s way to the top of the US Billboard 200 and spawned the funky single “Pick Up The Pieces” with its repetitive signature riff and chorus. This ascended all the way to the top of the US charts (it had initially failed to chart in the UK) and possibly more remarkable was that the song was an instrumental.
Classic Soul Funk groups had that telepathy amongst them. These musicians produced such a tightly produced sound – it propelled your hips and feet as if you were being physically prodded. So it was with Alan Gorrie’s thumping bass, the technically sophisticated yet hypnotic drumming of Robbie McIntosh, the silky, catchy and driving rhythm guitar of Onnie McIntyre interplays with Hamish Stuart’s lead guitar. Add the saxophones of Roger Ball and ‘Molly’ Duncan and you’re transported to Soul heaven.
Nine of the 10 tracks are originals. Gorrie and Stuart share the vocals. Their plaintive tenor falsettos are heart felt and pleading throughout. When they share a vocal then the fit and harmonies are as tight as the rhythm section.
Not all the songs are turbo charged. When they take it down with “Just Wanna Love You Tonight” strings are introduced. We hear of an assignation before lovers are parted with a long tour lying ahead. The vocals are expressive and mellifluous.
After the romantic interlude they find another gear seamlessly and speed is regained with “Keepin’ It To Myself”. A sax introduction makes way for Gorrie’s vocal. More heartbreak unfolds as he concludes that he’s not sharing his love after yet more disappointment.
Aside from the Number 1 single then most memorable is the cover of the Isley Brothers’ “Work To Do”. I always liked the lyrics that explain to a long-suffering wife why he’s not home.
There are some amazing British exports, like Rolls Royce. Just like the car then AWB were amongst our most refined, high quality, beautifully crafted and unique gifts to the world.
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