CD Review: Willie Nile’s The Great Yellow Light (2025)

It’s been 45 years since the release of singer/songwriter Willie Nile’s self-titled debut album by Arista Records, and the mere fact that the artist isn’t a household name on par with, say, his buddy Bruce – with whom he is often compared – is a national disgrace. As high-energy, intelligent, and rocking a debut LP as you’d find in the 1980s, Nile followed it up with the equally spirited 1981 album, Golden Dawn. From this point, though, he followed Springsteen’s path with label disputes, lawsuits, and years spent in the wilderness before signing with Columbia Records for 1991’s Places I Have Never Been, another fine album, and one with which Nile arguably found his creative voice and sound.

Places I Have Never Been received little label support and went nowhere, and Nile lapsed into obscurity. Not that he wasn’t performing, writing songs, and such – Nile recorded and performed during the ‘90s with legends like Ringo Starr, Elvis Costello, Lucinda Williams, and Ian Hunter, among others. No big-league label would touch him, though, and Nile followed his contemporary Joe Grushecky down the rabbit hole and went ‘indie,’ releasing the critically-acclaimed Beautiful Wreck of the World in 1999. Freed from the chains of major label restrictions, Nile went on a musical bender, resulting in a string of incredible albums, starting with 2006’s Streets of New York and extending through House of A Thousand Guitars (2008), American Ride (2013), and Children of Paradise (2018).

Willie Nile’s The Great Yellow Light

The Great Yellow Light is Nile’s 12th studio album since the turn of the century, and his 21st recording overall, and it’s obvious that the artist has yet to run out of fresh and exciting song ideas but, also, at 76 years old, he still has the energy and ambition of his debut album. Witness album-opener “Wild Wild World,” a bristling rocker with florid lyrics delivered with a fervor artists half Nile’s age can’t muster. The song’s gonzo storytelling is all over the map, but it boils down to the now-quaint (but never outdated) message that the Beatles gave us so many years ago, “all you need is love.” The twangy throwback guitar on the performance reminds of James Burton and really tickles the eardrums. Opening with a livewire guitar lick, “Electrify Me” kicks off with Nile’s earnest plea, rolling into a crackling new perspective on romance that is punkish in its intensity but Dylanesque in its joyous wordplay.

Willie Nile photo courtesy Willie Nile

 

“An Irish Goodbye” is a duet with underrated Irish singer/songwriter Paul Brady, a magnificently epic performance with crackerjack lyrics (“here’s fire in your whiskey, here’s mud in your eye”) and brilliant storytelling delivered with soulful nuance. Brady’s gruffer, accented vocals play off Nile’s wiry tenor quite nicely, and the musical addition of tin whistle and uillean pipes (courtesy of Black 47’s Fred Parcels and Chris Byrne, respectively…) reflect elements of the beloved Pogues. As Lou Reed once told Elliott Murphy, “if you want to hide poetry, put it in a rock ‘n’ roll song because no one will ever look there*,” and the album’s title track – the title a reference to Vincent Van Gogh – offers up brilliant poetic imagery in the service to a gorgeous romantic fantasy with crescendos of instrumentation and breathless vocals.

The self-referential “Tryin’ To Make A Livin’ In the U.S.A.” welds a familiar Nile melody to a hillbilly rocker that re-imagines Nile’s career with tongue-in-cheek lyrics (“there’s nothing wrong with me a hit record wouldn’t cure”) and the undeniable spirit of a man who has forged his own path through the barbed wire-clad minefield of the music business. Nile’s not afraid to offer a bit of trenchant social commentary with his songs, typically delivered with insight, and The Great Yellow Light includes two such “call to arms” in “Wake Up America” and “Washington’s Day.” The former, a duet with Nile’s country equivalent Steve Earle, is a wonderfully wry look at the state of the nation that points out the hypocrisy of hate and bigotry while the latter is a mid-tempo rocker which evokes the founding fathers in a brilliant essay on brotherhood and sacrifice.   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

There’s not a dud among the ten songs on The Great Yellow Light, which is more than I can say about even the most erstwhile talents on the charts. Nile brings a fervor and heartfelt energy to every song as if his life depended on it. Much like his spiritual brethren – artists like Joe Grushecky, Elliott Murphy, Steve Wynn, and a few others – Nile is a poet in rock ‘n’ roll garb, a guise, a ruse, and a commercial burden that he’s carried across five decades but which has never kept him from shooting for the brass ring while staying true to his muse. I can honestly say that I’ve never heard a bad Willie Nile album, and that the man continues to deliver music as vital and intelligent as that on The Great Yellow Light is a testament to his talent, vision, and artistic ambitions. Grade: A+ (River House Records, released June 20th, 2025)

* Lou Reed quote from Fred De Vries’ wonderful Elliott Murphy interview in Record Time zine issue #3

Buy the album from Amazon: Willie Nile’s The Great Yellow Light

Also on That Devil Music:
Willie Nile - Positively Bob: Willie Nile Sings Bob Dylan review
Willie Nile - Children of Paradise review
Willie Nile - Beautiful Wreck of the World review

CD Review: Old Town Crier's Peterson Motel (2025)

Jim Lough a/k/a Old Town Crier got in touch to let me know that he has a brand spankin’ new album up on Bandcamp that I needed to check out. Curious, and always psyched to hear from Jim – I’ve reviewed previous Old Town Crier recordings like the four-song EP Motion Blur earlier this year, and the full-length A Night with Old Town Crier back in 2023 – I hustled over to Bandcamp and downloaded his latest five-song EP, Peterson Motel. Like its predecessors, half the proceeds from the EP’s sales will go to charity, in this case the ACLU, which can use the cash to, you know…fund its fight to keep democracy from dying in the good ol’ U.S. of A…

Old Town Crier’s Peterson Motel

Also like its predecessors, Peterson Motel rocks with the joyous abandon of the last day of school before summer vacation. The cover art – an antiquated photo of the sort of motor lodge that used to dot the highways of America in the 1950s and ‘60s – is a hint of the familiar sounds you’ll catch from the songs. The EP’s opening track, “Goodbye Jimmy D,” is an ode to the first Hollywood rock star, delivered with an echoey throwback vibe that mixes old-school rockabilly with a cool doo-wop vocal spirit. The breathless “Janeice” is equally engaging, an up-tempo slice of sly power-pop with a big heart and a bigger sound, with enough jangle to the guitarplay to satisfy even the most diehard rocker.

“Room 615” is a mid-tempo twang-banger with an explosive chorus and effective vocals while “Tell Me That You Love Me” is a romantic, ‘60s-styled garage-rock romp with clamorous instrumentation, a busy arrangement, and vocals that vary from a whisper to a shout, with Lough pulling it all together into a single magical performance. EP closer “Truck Drivin’ Man” is, in this scribe’s humble opinion, the finest country song you’ll hear this year…some Nashville type with a big hat and small ambitions could throw some pedal steel on this tune and take it to the top. Lough imbues the song with lovely fretwork and yearning lyrics, providing the performance with reckless country soul.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Peterson Motel offers a lo-fi production aesthetic but high-energy delivery, each and every song a real charmer with smart lyrics and carefully-crafted instrumentation. Lough did it all himself this time around, without a band and with only ‘Riley Coyote’ providing backing lyrics. The results speak for themselves – Lough, as ‘Old Town Crier’ – is a fine songwriter and an intuitive musician that brings fresh energy to old sounds on Peterson Motel. (Stinkbug Records, released May 21st, 2025)

Buy the CD or download from Bandcamp: Old Town Crier’s Peterson Motel

CD Review: Rich Pagano + the Sugarcane Cups’ Hold Still Light Escapes (2025)

It’s been a while since we’ve heard from Rich Pagano & the Sugarcane Cups, which is our loss ‘cause Rich is a helluva singer, songwriter, and musician, as evidenced by Hold Still Light Escapes, his sophomore effort. An impressive and altogether amazing collection of lovingly-crafted songs, Hold Still Light Escapes documents Pagano’s late son Nic’s five-year substance abuse disorder, with the songs inspired by their texts, journals, and personal experiences. Heady stuff, to be sure, and such closely-held, obvious ‘labors of love’ sometimes fall flat – not this one! Pagano’s skills as a wordsmith and musician propel these ten songs firmly into classic rock territory, i.e. lots of infectious melodies, chiming guitars, and smart lyrics.

Rich Pagano + the Sugarcane Cups’ Hold Still Light Escapes

Hold Still Light Escapes opens with the title track, a rootsy rocker with cautiously optimistic, hopeful lyrics with Pagano’s vox nearly hidden in the mix, and some great guitarplay from former Jason & the Scorchers/John Mellencamp/Hearts & Minds guitar-wrangler Andy York. The more up-tempo “Slowly” evinces a garage-rock vibe, mostly due to Kevin Bents’ tasty keyboards work, while the lyrics showcase the positivity of putting the past behind us and moving forward with life.

The somber semi-balled “4th of July” offers insight and support of the lost and lonely with a gorgeous soundtrack reminiscent of Dave Alvin while “True Love” is an enchanting story-song about emergence and perseverance that sports nuanced vocals and instrumentation that creates a gossamer, hypnotic listening experience. The wry “Mother Teresa” is deceptively brilliant – a cautionary tale, perhaps, of the allure and struggles of addiction – the mid-tempo song diving into R&B territory with a blast of Craig Dreyer’s sax solo and subtle guitar from Jack Petruzzelli.

“Huntington Beach” may be my favorite song on Hold Still Light Escapes, a brilliant, cinematic portrait of addiction with poetic lyrics worthy of Bukowski and a sparse instrumental backdrop that swells in grandeur with Pagano’s crescendo of drumbeats. The confessional “Useless” veers directly into Pete Townshend and the Who with great vocals, whipsmart lyrics, and a 1970s-styled, radio-friendly arrangement. The last of the CD’s main tracks, “At the End of the Day” is a Gospel-tinged tale of survival and forgiveness provided gravitas by Pagano’s earnest vocals combined with Brian Mitchell’s reverent keyboards, with guitarist Ann Klein laying low in the groove.   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Giving his fans more bang for their bucks, Pagano has fleshed out Hold Still Light Escapes with a half-dozen cool “bonus” tracks, including a powerful live acoustic version of “Useless” and solid, rocking, non-LP live performances of “Ariel’s Return” and “Rearview St. June,” from the self-titled 2009 Rich Pagano + the Sugarcane Cups album. The CD closes with the raw, immediate, and heartfelt “Something To Live For,” providing a poignant end to Hold Still Light Escapes. Net proceeds from the CD benefit The Nic Pagano LGBTQIA+ Scholarship for Recovery (www.releaserecoveryfoundation.org/lgbtqia), so what are you waiting for? Grade: A (self-produced, released 2024)

Buy the CD direct: Rich Pagano + the Sugarcane Cups’ Hold Still Light Escapes

Archive Review: Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups (2009)

A general rule of thumb in rock ‘n’ roll is that auxiliary band members (i.e. drummers, bassists) and sidemen (ditto) shouldn’t even attempt to record solo albums. The cut-out bins and used record stores of yore had shelves littered with examples of poor major label decisions (Bloody Egg Yolk are a BIG band, so it follows that the bassist’s solo album, recorded in his basement with his wife and next-door neighbor, should be HUGE!). Sure, there are exceptions to every rule, no matter how many lamebrained rockcrits say it’s so, but for every stellar effort from a Ringo Starr or John Entwistle, there are a hundred crappers rotting on the store shelves from Keith Moon, Tommy Lee, and (too many) others. Really, can you imagine a Lars Ulrich solo album, even in your worst nightmares? Eewww, wot a stinker that one would be!

Rich Pagano is a major exception to the aforementioned rule. A former member of the late ‘90s alt-pop outfit Marry Me Jane, in the ensuing years Pagano has become the skinman of choice for every pop-rock genius and street-smart rock ‘n’ roll idol to come down the pike, from Patti Smith and Willie Nile to Ray Davies and Ian Hunter, among many others. Performing and recording with a diverse range of talents has honed Pagano’s skills to a surgical precision, yet his drumming retains the unpredictability of spontaneity. It’s with this musical background that Pagano steps into a spotlight of his own with the sorta self-titled Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups, his debut album.

Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups

Right off the bat, let’s agree that Pagano is no poetic dilettante or wannabe wordsmith, but rather an impressive songwriter with a grasp of the language, imagination, and something to say…my guess is that Rich was paying attention when working with notable writers like Hunter and Nile. As such, Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups provides a rich lyrical experience, Pagano venting his spleen on such heady subjects as suicide (the darkly beautiful “Rearview St. Jude”); addiction and its effects on relationships (“You Want To Stay High”); and the frustrations of the working man (“Nine Lives”).  

Musically, Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups is a curious hybrid of classic rock and 1970s-era progressive rock, with a few folkish traits thrown in for good measure. Pagano doesn’t particularly wear his influences on his sleeve like some artists, but they’re certainly haunting these grooves, and you can pick out elements of John Lennon’s solo work, the Beatles, the Band and Levon Helm, and other sources among the blazing guitars and gospel-tinged keys. As for the aforementioned proggish tendencies, Pagano might not even realize that they’re here, but you can hear ‘em in the thick arrangements, instrumental virtuosity, and swooping musical landscapes that surround his whipsmart lyrics, scraps of Yes, the Strawbs, and Genesis ringing as clear as a bell.

Pagano’s backing musos, the “sugarCane cups,” are an all-star collection of the best and the brightest that NYC has to offer, with guitarists Andy York, Steve Conte, and Jack Petruzzelli, along with keyboardist Jeff Kazee shouldering the heavy loads, while various name-brand talents like Trey Anastasio, Ian Hunter, Willie Nile, and David Johansen drop by to lend a hand. Recorded in bits-and-pieces over the course of a year, Pagano used whatever friendly collaborators that he could rope into a session, but the results are surprisingly uniform, with the obviously inspired participants leaving behind some good work when they walked out the door.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups is an album that looks forward towards the future while gazing longingly towards the past. Pagano’s rough-hewn vocals are a welcome throwback to the pre-Pro Tools era, glorying in their warm authenticity and sometimes ragged emotion, while his percussion work sits comfortably behind his fellow players, rising now and then in the mix to add an invigorating blast of energy.

An original and creatively exciting work, Pagano’s solo debut is a modern-sounding collection with a contemporary edge that still wouldn’t have sounded terribly out-of-place in, say, 1975. This is timeless, well-constructed rock music, and Pagano deserves every column-inch of critical accolades that he’ll receive for the album. Even if he doesn’t garner the ink spilled on undeserving, trendier artists, it won’t change the inconvenient truth that Rich Pagano + the sugarcane cups is among the best albums that you’ll hear in 2009. You can believe it ‘cause the Reverend says so! (self-produced, released 2009)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine...

Buy the CD direct: Rich Pagano + the sugarCane cups

Hot Wax: Scrapper Blackwell's Mr. Scrapper's Blues (1961/2025)

A brilliant self-taught guitarist, Francis Hillman “Scrapper” Blackwell was a popular star in the isolated blues world of the late 1920s and early ‘30s. Born in South Carolina, Blackwell moved to Indianapolis as a child, learned to play piano, and made his first guitar from a cigar box and wire. He was already venturing into Chicago to perform as a teenager alongside adult musicians. Known for having a quick temper (his grandmother allegedly gave him the “Scrapper” nickname), Blackwell developed a friendship with blues pianist Leroy Carr, who coaxed him into playing guitar on his 1928 recording of “How Long, How Long Blues,” which became a big hit for Vocalion Records.

Subsequent records by the duo like 1934’s “Mean Mistreater Mama” and “Blues Before Sunrise” were equally popular; Blackwell and Carr toured the country and recorded better than 100 sides together over seven years before their acrimonious break-up in 1935 (over money, naturally…). Blackwell also recorded several solo sides during his association with Vocalion, including the future blues standard “Kokomo Blues” (which was later re-worked by the legendary Robert Johnson as “Sweet Home Chicago”), “Down South Blues,” and “Hard Time Blues,” among a handful of other songs. After Carr’s 1935 death, Blackwell virtually disappeared from music for the next 20 years, until his “rediscovery” during the late 1950s folk-blues revival.

Scrapper Blackwell’s Mr. Scrapper’s Blues

After recording the 1960 album Blues Before Sunrise for the British 77 Records label, Blackwell signed with producer Kenneth Goldstein and the Bluesville Records label stateside. Recording in July 1961 in his hometown of Indianapolis with Goldstein and Arthur Rosenbaum producing, Blackwell laid down the ten songs that would become his enduring masterpiece, Mr. Scrapper’s Blues. Released by Bluesville in 1962, just months before the guitarist’s tragic murder in October of that year, Blackwell sings and plays guitar and piano on the tracks. Reissued on 180-gram vinyl by the recently resurrected Bluesville imprint, Mr. Scrapper’s Blues is an obscure, if important addition to the blues canon.

Although Blackwell isn’t as well-known as contemporaries like Charley Patton and Son House, one hearing of “Goin’ Where the Monon Crosses the Yellow Dog” will convince you that Scrapper, while maybe not in the same league as those legends, is nevertheless playing in the same ball park. With spry finger-pickin’ and his distinctive (though not entirely ‘distinct’) vocals, Blackwell delivers a spirited country-blues performance of the traditionally-based railroad song. His cover of the 1929 Bessie Smith hit “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out” differs from Smith’s with a lower-key vocal performance and delicate fretwork in place of the horns, and sacrificing none of the original’s pathos.

Blues Before Sunrise

The instrumental “A Blues” displays Blackwell’s six-string dexterity on a jaunty lil’ fretboard romp, and he takes to the piano for “Little Girl Blues,” a mid-tempo blues tale similar to those he recorded with Carr decades ago. Blackwell’s tinkling keys show an instrumental proficiency that he seldom utilized. “Blues Before Sunrise” was a major 1934 hit for Blackwell and Carr; reimagined here without the pianist’s larger-than-life presence and instrumental prowess, the song remains a blues classic. Here it provides an extended showcase for Blackwell’s imaginative and fluid guitar lines, which offer various textures and patterns to the performance.

The whimsical “Little Boy Blue” is a nursery rhyme retrofitted to the blues, Blackwell’s sly sense of humor shining through his vocals atop his energetic and gymnastic guitarplay. The instrumental “E Blues” carries this lighthearted vibe forward with serpentine guitar licks and an undeniable fatback groove while another song from his longtime friendship with Carr, “Shady Lane,” offers a bit of nostalgia to the album, Blackwell’s earnest vocals supported by a laidback but deliberate guitar strum. Originally recorded in 1927, “Penal Farm Blues” was Blackwell’s first song cut to wax; with reflection better than three decades later, it has lost none of its mournful resignation with high lonesome vocals accompanying emotional fretwork.        

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Scrapper Blackwell is an unheralded talent well worth rediscovering 60+ years past his previous rediscovery. A skilled guitarist and pianist, Blackwell was a songster capable of interpreting a diverse range of material. Mr. Scrapper’s Blues was designed to introduce the guitarist to a new generation of music fans; instead, it became his swansong with his tragic death a few months after its release.

With a scarcity of solo recordings to catch the ears of young blues fans, Blackwell has largely remained in the shadows of obscurity. While we don’t know what he may have achieved in the years after this lone album, recorded better than 25 years after his previous sessions, Mr. Scrapper’s Blues is a fitting testament to Blackwell’s talents and unique blues sound. Grade: B+ (Bluesville Records/Craft Recordings, released May 16th, 2025)

Buy the vinyl from Amazon: Scrapper Blackwell’s Mr. Scrapper’s Blues

Hot Wax: Buddy Guy's This Is Buddy Guy! (1968/2025)

Born in 1936 in Louisiana to a sharecropper family, George “Buddy” Guy worked the fields as a youth, picking cotton alongside his younger brother Phil. Looking for a way out of the backbreaking work of farming, Guy taught himself guitar by using a two-string diddley bow that he’d made. He later acquired an acoustic guitar, allowing him to hone his talents so, that by the mid-1950s, he was playing with various bands in the Baton Rouge area. Guy moved to Chicago in 1957, where he would find support from blues great Muddy Waters. After recording a pair of non-performing singles for Cobra Records (including one with Ike Turner), Guy signed with the legendary Chess Records label.

Unfortunately, Chess had no freakin’ idea what to do with the fiery, innovative guitarist; label founder Leonard Chess famously called Guy’s performances “noise.” Instead, Chess tried to shape Guy into a solo R&B singer, with a side dish of jazz instrumentals, a straitjacket not suited to Guy’s otherwise immense talents. The guitarist recorded but a single album for Chess – 1967’s I Left My Blues In San Francisco – the label preferring to use him as a session player for recordings by high-profile artists like Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Koko Taylor, and Little Walter. Moonlighting while signed to Chess, Guy started a lifelong friendship with harmonica wizard Junior Wells, contributing guitar to Wells’ classic 1965 Hoodoo Man Blues album under the “Friendly Chap” pseudonym.

This Is Buddy Guy!

Working with a  new manager, Guy signed with Vanguard Records which, thanks to the efforts of producer Sam Charters, was expanding the label’s roster beyond folk music and into the blues. Guy recorded his underrated sophomore effort, A Man & the Blues, for Vanguard in 1968 and followed it up quickly with the live This Is Buddy Guy!, released later that year. Recently reissued on gorgeous 180-gram vinyl by Bluesville Records, This Is Buddy Guy! captures the guitarist’s raucous July 1968 performance at New Orleans House in Berkeley, California. Backed by a horn-heavy outfit that featured saxophonists A.C. Reed and Bobby Fields alongside trumpeters Norman Spiller and George Alexander and including rhythm guitarist Tim Kaihatsu, bassist Jack Meyers, and drummer Glenway McTeer.

The band is red-hot and ready to roll, and Guy takes them on a hell of a ride. This early in his career, Guy wasn’t writing songs as prolifically as he would later, so half of This Is Buddy Guy! is comprised of blues and soul covers, with just a handful of original tunes. The Guy/Willie Dixon co-write “I Got My Eyes On You” is a perfect snapshot of the guitarist at this point in time – Guy shouting lyrics above a loping rhythm punctuated by the occasional blast of horns and embroidered with shards of hot guitar. The song has ‘Chicago blues’ written in its DNA and, if Guy’s jagged leads were unusual in 1968, they’d become standard for many instrumentalists in years to come.

The Things I Used To Do

Much of the live set follows a similar blueprint – a cover of the Guitar Slim classic “The Things I Used To Do” offers Guy’s stab at soul-styled vocals (something which he wouldn’t master until later in his career) accompanied by machine-gun flurries of notes. It’s fascinating to compare Buddy Guy now vs. then: while time has tamed the stormy nature of his early performances, the fire still burns brightly. “(You Give Me) Fever” is provided low-key vocals with the occasional outburst of enthusiasm, but the band smolders in the grooves and Guy’s six-string vamps display a subtlety that Mr. Chess sorely overlooked. Eddie Floyd’s Stax Records hit “Knock On Wood” is delivered in a R&B revue style similar to the original with rowdy, Floyd/Redding/Pickett-styled soul vox with plenty of blazing horns and scraps of guitar.

The second side of This Is Buddy Guy! leaps off the turntable with the roiling intensity of Guy’s original “I Had A Dream Last Night.” Guy sets a somber mood with his emotional fretwork as Jack Meyers’ jazzy walking bass line anchors the song’s rhythm and mournful horns sing the blues in the background. It’s a forceful performance, with extended instrumental passages, and the perfect lead-in to “24 Hours A Day,” an up-tempo R&B stomp with rollicking horns and a swaggering rhythm painted by Guy’s sporadic fretboard runs. The Chicago-styled “You Were Wrong” showcases Guy as bluesman with scorching, inventive leads, and a bad luck tale as old as the blues. The album closes out with “I’m Not the Best,” a juke-joint barn-burner that channels Guy’s energy and wildness into a singular outrageous performance that displays perfectly why Guy became a major influence on generations of rock and blues guitarists to follow.     

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Much like his old friend B.B. King, Buddy Guy is a blues chameleon, a talented guitarist and legendary performer capable of mastering various styles of the genre as witnessed by recordings like 1972’s Buddy Guy & Junior Wells Play the Blues (which strays onto blues-rock turf), 1981’s Stone Crazy! (pure blues-rock with guitar pyrotechnics to match), 1994’s Slippin’ In (back to Chicago), and 2001’s Sweet Tea (back to basics), upon which Guy built his Hall of Fame worthy legacy.

This Is Buddy Guy! documents the guitarist in his early years, and while his impressive six-string talents were nearly fully-formed at the time, he was still developing a sound of his own that would carry his career across seven decades. If you’re a Buddy Guy fan, you owe it to yourself to experience a young Buddy tearing up the boards and thrilling the audience a mere handful of years into his career with This Is Buddy Guy! Grade: A (Bluesville Records/Craft Recordings, released May 16th, 2025)

Buy the vinyl from Amazon: Buddy Guy’s This Is Buddy Guy!

Archive Review: Willie King & the Liberators’ Freedom Creek (2000)

He calls it “struggling blues” and Willie King is one of only a handful of blues artists alive today delving into such meaty subjects as racism, poverty, and social injustice. As such, Freedom Creek is a revelation and an inspiration. Not since Bob Marley’s early political songs have I heard such a lyrical vision of a community in trouble (Jamaica in Marley’s case, the rural south for King). Songs like “Pickens County Payback,” “Twenty Long Years” or “The Sell-Out” are hardcore declarations of faith – strongly held belief in the spirit of man and woman to overcome. As might be gathered from his music, King is social activist, as well, the founder of the Rural Members Association. An organization that preaches self-reliance by teaching African-Americans in rural Mississippi and Alabama  

Musically influenced by Howlin’ Wolf and John Lee Hooker, King’s sound is nonetheless unique. Using a second vocalist to enhance and echo his vocals and employing a guitar style that is equal parts Albert King and Willie King. Polished to a sharp edge by playing juke joints and house parties for a quarter century, King’s music is both hypnotic and uplifting. His vocals are drenched in the Delta and schooled by the church, delivered like a preacher at the pulpit with a physical and spiritual force that today’s most passionate rappers and rockers could never equal.

Freedom Creek was recorded live on two-track analog in a Mississippi roadhouse, providing an authentic gospel fervor to the material. When King states “I’m the reverend tonight” you know that he’s telling the truth, every song a sermon, every performance touched by the divine. King’s long-time backing band is as tight as a drum, providing a free-flowing undercurrent to King’s coarse vocals and steady guitar riffs. No less potent than the works of Robert Johnson, Charley Patton, or Muddy Waters, King’s Freedom Creek is a significant collection of contemporary blues that are steeped in tradition even while looking towards the future. (Rooster Blues Music, released October 4th, 2000)  

(Thanks, and a tip of the hat to local Nashville musician Colin Wade Monk for suggesting Freedom Creek to this critic.)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ music zine...

CD Review: Iron City Houserockers’ Blood On the Bricks (1981/2025)

By 1981, Pittsburgh’s favorite sons the Iron City Houserockers were increasingly viewed as old school rockers in a ‘new wave’ world. Pop stars like Olivia Newton-John, Diana Ross, and Kim Carnes ruled the U.S. charts and the AM airwaves while, on the other side of the pond, various flavors of  ‘new wave’ in the form Adam & the Ants, Duran Duran, Soft Cell, Human League, and the Police dominated U.K. charts as they prepared their assault on these shores, a siege made possible by the August launch of the MTV cable channel, which played British rock and pop videos almost exclusively until stateside labels got wise and jumped into the game.

Critically-acclaimed but commercially-challenged, previous IC Houserockers’ albums like 1979’s Love’s So Tough and the following year’s Have A Good Time (But Get Out Alive) provided an introduction to singer, songwriter, and guitarist Joe Grushecky, a street-smart ‘Steel City’ ruffian whose working class roots and insightful, poetic lyrics were backed by a tough-as-nails guitar-rock sound that, at the turn of the decade, was both passé and forward-thinking, presaging the ‘Heartland Rock’ of John Mellencamp and Steve Earle as well as the emerging superstardom of Bob Seger and Bruce Springsteen.

While the Cleveland International label that had released the band’s first two albums was trying to catch lightning in a bottle for a second time with a follow-up to singer Meat Loaf’s unexpected multi-Platinum™ hit Bat Out of Hell, Grushecky and the gang went straight to the label’s distributor, MCA Records, and finagled a deal that resulted in 1981’s Blood On the Bricks and 1983’s Cracking Under Pressure (for which MCA stupidly dropped the proud ‘Iron City’ from the band’s name). The Houserockers were shipped off to Los Angeles to work with producer and Memphis music legend Steve Cropper, whose work for Stax Records in the 1960s was the stuff of dreams.  

Iron City Houserockers’ Blood On the Bricks

Grushecky states in the reissue’s liner notes that he was writing best about what he knew, and it shows in Blood’s lyrics, which are personal and focused on the microcosm of life in the Steel City. Joe would later develop an insightful songwriting style that would make the personal universal – a sort of blue-collar blues – but you can see hints of this evolution in “Friday Night,” Blood’s opening track. A big, bold rocker with Gil Snyder’s tinkling keys and a boisterous rhythm track, the song borders on pop with an infectious chorus and an undeniable melody, and it’s sung from the perspective of the working-class guy waiting for the weekend so that he can cut loose. It’s a high-octane album-opener, and while Jim Horn’s mid-song sax solo edges up to Clarence Clemons’ turf, the late-closing squonk is a bit dissonant to my ears.

“Saints and Sinners” is one of my favorite Grushecky songs, a fantastic story-song that cuts a fine line between the two extremes of the title. A tragic tale of a Vietnam vet who’s gone off the rails and taken his family hostage, the lyrics are succinct, powerful, and poetic and supported by a solid vocal performance and screaming instrumentation. As Grushecky says in the liner notes, “those days weren’t too removed from the war. People my age all knew guys who went there and came back not quite the same.” The up-tempo soundtrack is unrelenting, the vox following a stark spoken/sung dynamic with plenty of silence and swelling instrumentation clashing for the moment.

A mid-tempo love song with some quirky instrumentation and vocal dynamics, “This Time the Night (Won’t Save Us)” is a Springsteen-esque romantic operetta  with moments of light instrumentation that didn’t land far from what the Cars had been playing (with some success), but with an undeniable, recognizable Houserockers feel. Cropper’s arrangement placed the song firmly in radio-ready territory, with a Southern-fried guitar solo from the Colonel to add gravitas, but it’s Grushecky’s sometimes distraught, sometimes regretful, but ultimately reluctantly accepting vocals that push the song over the line.

A Fool’s Advice      

The ballad “Be My Friend” was penned, jokes Joe in the liner notes, “to get some girls to come see us.” It’s a solid effort, Grushecky’s ragged, romance-weary vocals wrapping warmly around a plaintive yet earnest plea. The song could be considered a precursor to some of Grushecky’s later solo songs, a “proof of concept” that tough guys could be tender in the spirit of Otis Redding. A snappy drumbeat opens “No Easy Way Out,” a buoyant mid-tempo rocker with pop aspirations. Snyder’s underlying keyboards edge the performance close to a ‘new wave’ sound again – a conscious effort by Cropper to make the band more AM-friendly? – and while it’s an engaging enough song with grim, real-life lyrics, it’s inevitably just mid-album filler.

Much better is the following “No More Loneliness,” whose jaunty opening git licks and sparse harmonica swing like Graham Parker’s “Heat Treatment,” the song hewing closely to a R&B drenched, British pub-rock sound that is both energetic and refreshing. Grushecky’s vocals are light and effective, with greater range than most of the songs here, while the song’s fretwork flies high above a crackerjack rhythmic backdrop. A few well-placed horns embellish the performance while keyboards provide an instrumental undercurrent. The band gets back to basics with the gritty, forceful “Watch Out,” a street-smart slice of grimacing, dark-hued mid-tempo rock that rolls effortlessly into the album’s bruising title track.

“Blood On the Bricks” is another standout, a “ripped from the headlines” rocker with a raw, sparse soundtrack and strong lyrics that display Grushecky’s bluesy vocal style. The dynamic run-up to the song’s chorus, paired with Reisman’s mournful harmonica riffs, is simply exquisite while the backing instrumentation is restrained, not submissive. “A Fool’s Advice” closed the original LP, Snyder’s piano intro brushed away by a flurry of fierce guitar notes and Grushecky’s growled vox. A romantic ballad with muscle, the added horns are largely superfluous – Reisman’s devastating harmonica licks are all the texture the song needed. An unreleased bonus track, “Let the Boy Rock,” could have replaced “No Easy Way Out” in my opinion, the album outtake a rollicking honky-tonk rave-up with blazing horns, Jerry Lee-styled piano-pounding, and rockabilly-tinged guitar licks…a winner all around!         

“Bonus Bricks”

The bonus disc included with the album provides a real treat for Houserockers fanatics. Disc two kicks off with four live tracks from a 1981 performance at Inn-Square Men’s Bar in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Every one of ‘em is a banger, all from the Blood On the Bricks LP – “Watch Out,” “Saints and Sinners,” “Be My Friend,” and the album’s title track – and the performances in front of an enthusiastic crowd are so hot that one wishes they’d included the entire concert. The lengthy spoken intro to “Saints and Sinners” lulls you into a thoughtful complacency so you don’t realize that the backing instrumentation is gradually building to an electrifying crescendo when the guitars kick into overdrive and smack you upside the head.  

The live version of “Blood On the Bricks” is all muscle and sinew, Grushecky’s growled vox and edgy lyricism matched in ferocity by Eddie Britt’s flamethrower guitar and the deep resonant rhythm section of bassist Art Nardini and drummer Ned E. Rankin, while harmonica player Mark Reisman adds a bluesy vibe to the performance. The rest of disc two is comprised of demo tracks from the Blood sessions, with tentative early versions of album tracks like “This Time the Night (Won’t Save Us)” and “A Fool’s Advice” showcasing Grushecky’s evolving songwriting process. More interesting, though, are proto-versions of the poppy “Angels,” which wouldn’t appear on record until 1983’s Cracking Under Pressure, and “Jukebox Nights,” which evolved into “Blood On the Bricks.”      

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

I feel that there was a ton of opportunity lost with Blood On the Bricks when it was released. Cropper wasn’t a great choice to produce the Houserockers, and although he’s credited with helping the band firm up its song arrangements, some of his production choices are found lacking and contrary to the Houserockers’ bar-band-on-steroids aesthetic. Far too often, Cropper’s production is lacking in depth when a full Spector-esque approach (like Bruce Springsteen’s Born To Run) would have better suited the performances.  

MCA Records could have spiffed up “Angels” and released it as a single from the album; even in demo form, it’s a killer song that needed just a little more to make it radio-ready. Snyder’s keyboards would have fit right in with the sound of the early ‘80s and if the song wasn’t representative of the Houserockers’ ‘modus operandi’, well, neither was Blue Öyster Cult’s Top 40 hit “Burnin’ For You.” The album-opening “Friday Night” was the only single released from Blood On the Bricks (b/w “No Easy Way Out”), and while the song’s sparse, poppy arrangement isn’t miles away from “Angels,” it lacks the demo’s presence; “Angels” could have made for a dynamite, MTV-friendly promotional video.

Overall, Blood On the Bricks offers songs the equal of its preceding LPs, but the album’s lackluster production robbed the band of its streetwise gravitas. Grushecky and crew weren’t yet at the end of their rope, so the material still rocks with reckless abandon, and the live tracks display their strength in an unforgiving onstage environment. Grushecky’s songwriting skills were still growing and evolving into the master wordsmith he would become as a solo artist, and the band performed to the full extent of its considerable talents. Blood On the Bricks isn’t as impactful as Have A Good Time or Love’s So Tough, but it’s still a solid and entertaining album from a band that was always better on stage than in the studio, and still far above what almost anybody else was doing in rock music at the time. Grade: B+ (Omnivore Recordings, released March 28th, 2025)

Buy the CD from Amazon: Iron City Houserockers’ Blood On the Bricks

Archive Review: Joe Louis Walker’s Witness To the Blues (2008)

A phenomenal guitarist, a singer with a warm, soulful voice, a solid songwriter, and a dynamic showman – despite these assets, bluesman Joe Louis Walker still seems to fly under the mainstream music fan’s radar. ‘Tis a shame, too, ‘cause Walker possesses credentials that would satisfy and pacify any non-believer that might question his pedigree (or his sincerity), and he has the musical chops to backstop any argument.

Walker has performed for paupers and presidents; held his ground on stages around the world alongside larger-than-life talents like Jimi Hendrix, John Lee Hooker, Michael Bloomfield, and B.B. King; and he has a vast musical experience that runs the gamut from psychedelic rock and gospel to soul and the blues. He’s been chosen by folks like Bonnie Raitt, Ike Turner, Taj Mahal, and Branford Marsalis to back their play in the studio. In other words, you can’t deny that this is one artist that walks the walk...

Joe Louis Walker’s Witness To the Blues

Witness To the Blues is Walker’s latest, a stunning collection of rambling soul, bluesy guitar, big band blues, and rambunctious R&B. Produced with a deft hand by six-string wizard Duke Robillard – who knows his own way around a fretboard – the collaboration between two accomplished musicians results in near-flawless performances on half-a-dozen Walker originals and a handful of choice covers. Walker’s studio band includes top-notch musicians from the blues and jazz worlds, talents like keyboardist Bruce Katz, saxman Doug James, and drummer Mark Teixeira; Robillard even drops his axe in the groove on a number of songs.

Witness To the Blues is bursting at the seams with great songs and enthusiastic performances. For instance, “Midnight Train” is a jumpin’, jivin’ party on the rails, the band laying down a locomotive beat while Walker adds coal to the fire with his imaginative guitarplay, which flays back-and-forth between Texas electric-blues and Scotty Moore-styled roots-rockabilly. A duet with the incredible Shemekia Copeland, “Lover’s Holiday,” is a soulful romp reminiscent of the best early ‘70s R&B, with keyboardist Katz playing on the Booker T edge while Walker and Copeland’s soaring voices wrap around your eardrums like sugar-n-spice.

The traditional blues-blast “Rollin’ & Tumblin’” is a swinging, echo-laden rocker with haunting, swampadelic guitar and New Orleans-style piano-pounding. “Keep On Believin’” is a perfect example of old-school Stax soul, delivered with gospel fervor and graced with butterfly-fretwork, magnificent B3 organ fills, and pleading vocal harmonies. Another trad cut, “Sugar Mama,” is lifted by Katz’s barrelhouse piano runs, with Robillard’s elegant, jazzy rhythm guitar laying in the cut behind Walker’s raw, ragged solos and Sonny Boy-styled blasts of mouth harp.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

This isn’t music to change the world, but rather tones to sooth your soul. Witness To the Blues revels in the sheer joy that Joe Louis Walker and his kindred spirits achieve by playing the music they love. It’s contagious, and just one spin of Witness To the Blues will have you hooked as well. (Stony Plain Records, released 2008)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine...

CD Review: Various Artists - Motor City Is Burning (2025)

A hell of a lot of great music has come out of Detroit, Michigan and surrounding areas, from blues and soul artists like John Lee Hooker and Aretha Franklin to the Motown machine of the 1960s, which featured talents like the Temptations, the Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, and the Supremes, among many others. The Motor City has also made a name for itself in the world of rock ‘n’ roll, beginning with Mitch Ryder’s Detroit Wheels in the early 1960s and Russ Gibbs’ mid-decade Grande Ballroom Scene, which made stars of the Stooges and MC5, with the thread running through 1980s-era bands like Destroy All Monsters, the Mutants, and the Romantics to ‘90s trailblazers like the Gories, the Detroit Cobras, and the White Stripes.

For those of us that grew up listening to – and loving – Detroit rock, however, the most exiting era of the city’s rock scene was roughly between 1967 and 1977, a ten-year period that saw the emergence and ascendance of the scene to a commercial pinnacle in the form of artists like Bob Seger and Ted Nugent. This is, more or less, the period chronicled by Cherry Red Records’ new historical compilation, Motor City Is Burning: A Michigan Anthology 1965-1972. Comprised of 66 songs spread across three discs and packaged in a study cardboard clamshell with an accompanying booklet, Motor City Is Burning offers up tracks by some of the usual suspects (Ryder, Stooges, MC5) along with some lesser-known but beloved bands (SRC, Brownsville Station, Frijid Pink, The Frost) and more than a few welcome surprises and rarities.

Motor City Is Burning

The first CD is loaded with mostly 1960s-era goodies, taking on a distinct, Nuggets-styled garage-rock vibe, especially since it opens with the classic “96 Tears” from ? & the Mysterians. Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels are represented by the irrepressible “Jenny Take A Ride” and the disc offers up other essential rock goodies like Dick Wagner & the Frost (“Mystery Man”), former Grand Funk RR Svengali Terry Knight’s early band the Pack (a psych-drenched cover of the Stones’ “Satisfaction”) and, hailing from Niles MI, Tommy James & the Shondells’ deep cut “I’m Alive” (a psych-rock delicacy). Scot Richard Case (SRC) and the Rationals are two of my all-time fave Detroit outfits, and they offer a devastating one-two punch with the former’s scorching take on the Skip James’ blues classic “I’m So Glad” and the latter with an electrifying cover of the Kinks’ B-side “I Need You.”

There are some fine obscurities here, too, like the Ted Lucas-fronted Spike Drivers’ 1966 folk-rock single “Baby Won’t You Let Me Tell You How I Lost My Mind”; the Shaggs’ (no, not that one) 1969 flapjack “She Makes Me Happy,” with its cool Byrdsian twang; the Troyes’ raging 1967 single “Help Me Find Myself”; or the Apostles’ 1967 melding of the Cadets and the Kinks on “Stranded In the Jungle.” The disc includes a couple of intriguing, never-before-released tracks in Dearborn City Limits’ “Come See About Me,” a poppy, keyboard-driven rocker believed to have been waxed in 1966 that could have been a radio hit, and the enigmatic Felix’s 1968 “Outside Woman Blues,” a blues-rocker in a Cream vein that is exceedingly rare. Throw in groovy tracks by long-gone rockers like Tidal Waves, the Solitary Confinement, the Innsmen, the Thyme, and the King’s Court and you have an inspired compilation already.

Scot Richard Case (SRC)

Disc two catches the scene as it transitions from the garage to the revered Grande Ballroom and then onto festival stages in both Michigan and, in some instances, nationwide. Focusing largely on hard rock, this is where heavy hitters like the Stooges (their timeless “1969” still packs a wallop, like a crowbar to yer eardrums), MC5 (the buoyant, complex “Teenage Lust”), Grand Funk Railroad (from Flint, but close enough for their cover of Eric Burdon’s “Inside Looking Out” to wrench your cerebellum), and Alice Cooper (who remade their image in the Motor City and came up with the eerie “Halo of Flies”). The disc includes a couple of beloved “also-rans” in SRC (the former Scot Richard Case), whose “Up All Night” channels the Pretty Things with jolt of Motor City madness and Savage Grace, whose ethereal 1970 cover of Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” gives Jimi a run for his money.

Detroit Rock, Soul & Funk   

Cub Koda & Brownsville Station

 

The second disc also includes a handful of worthy bands that should have been a hell of a lot bigger, starting with Cub Koda’s almighty Brownsville Station. Although the band released seven albums of blues-tinted rock circa 1970-1978, they remain best-known for their 1973 novelty hit “Smokin’ In the Boys Room.” As shown by their rowdy 1970 cover of Bo Diddley’s “Road Runner,” which features Koda’s fiery guitarplay and a swinging rhythm track, they were a hell of a lot more than that humorous, if ultimately misbegotten single. Frijid Pink were another “coulda, shoulda” outfit, remembered for their hit cover of “House of the Rising Sun.” But “Pain In My Heart,” from their 1970 sophomore effort, displays a harder-rock facet of the band’s talents. There are also some relatively unknown gems here, too, like the previously-unreleased livewire 1972 track “Wake Up People,” a skronky guitar ‘n’ keyboards rave-up from Kopperfield. Power trio Head Over Heels is another shoulda-been band, and their “Right Away” is a deliciously bluesy rocker while rare singles by bands like the Glass Sun, Resolution, and Sunshine round out the disc.  

The third CD of Motor City Is Burning is probably the most pleasantly surprising of the three, largely comprised of soul and funk jams from Michigan artists like the Temptations, Diana Ross & the Supremes, Chairmen of the Board, and Smokey Robinson & the Miracles. The disc isn’t all just Motown hits, although the Temps’ 1970 single “Ball of Confusion” is a prime slab o’ psychedelic soul. Often times, producer/curator David Wells went with the lesser-known choices. The Supremes’ “Reflections” – a classic Holland-Dozier-Holland single – offers a severely underappreciated and wistful performance by Ms. Ross while the Miracles’ “Flower Girl” is pop-soul at its very best. Chanteuse Freda Payne’s 1971 anti-war single “Bring the Boys Home” is a gorgeous example of the power of song and Chairmen of the Board’s “Hanging On To A Memory” is a boiling pot of funk with frontman General Johnson belting out the vox with the incredible Funkadelic laying down the backing groove.      

As for the non-Motown tracks on the disc, there’s a wealth of great material to be explored, beginning with the early (1970) Parliament song “I Call My Baby Pussycat,” which pairs a rockin’ intro to a high-voltage soundtrack with funky flow and chaotic instrumentation and vox. Blues legend John Lee Hooker is represented by the anthology’s title track, “The Motor City Is Burning” a stone-cold boogie-rock tune with scrappy guitar and a heart full of napalm. The L.A. based Sussex Records label wasn’t around for long (1969-1975) but they released several cool records by Detroit artists like Dennis Coffey & the Detroit Guitar Band (the Top 10 instrumental hit “Scorpio”) and Sixto Rodriguez (discovered and produced by Coffey, it would take audiences 40+ years to discover his sublime, Dylanesque “Inner City Blues”). Rare Earth was Motown’s “rock” imprint, but they were also a band whose 1968 “Sidewalk Café” offers up a pulse-quickening joyful noise mixing rock and soul. Another band on the label was the hard-rockin’ Sunday Funnies, whose 1971 single “Walk Down the Path of Freedom” reminds one of a bluesier Bob Seger with loudly-spinning guitars and keyboards. Another underrated Detroit rocker, Ruth Copeland’s cover of the Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” is pure fire & brimstone with fatback git licks courtesy of Funkadelic’s Eddie Hazel and Ray Monette, from Dennis Coffey’s band.  

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

To be honest, Cherry Red had me hooked with the initial premise, and I have to say that producer Wells did a yeoman’s job in collecting some tasty treats from the deepest, funkiest vaults of Motor City rock ‘n’ soul for this anthology. Sure, there are plenty of “marquee” attractions here, artists of a high degree of familiarity to attract the punters. It’s the obscurities and rarities found in the other grooves, however, that make Motor City Is Burning both an entertaining and historical collection of performances from one of the grandest, and grittiest music scenes to ever take root in the continental U.S., a scene that continues to burn out of control to this day. Grade: A+ (Grapefruit Records/Cherry Red, released March 17th, 2025)

Buy the CD from Amazon: Motor City Is Burning