Bootleg Rodeo: Black Sabbath’s Paranoid In New Jersey (2025)

Album of the Day: Black Sabbath’s Paranoid In New Jersey, a dodgy copyright gap “import” album documenting an August 1975 performance in Asbury Park. Really, anything from Sabbath’s first six LPs (through Sabotage) is aces with me, and the performance here rocks AND rolls! Sadly, although the cover states that this is sourced from a FM radio broadcast, the sound quality is shite. 

Even given the early era of the recording, my ears tell me that it’s a crappy audience tape, not a soundboard or FM capture. My recently-acquired Sabbath Live In Paris 1970 CD sounds a 1,000 times clearer and balanced, even when using more primitive recording tech. ‘Tis a shame, too, with songs like “Killing Yourself To Live,” “War Pigs,” “Snowblind,” “Children of the Grave,” and “Paranoid” this could have been a real banger!

Interview: The Silencers (1990)

Take one part hollow, ringing guitars, toss in a dash of Celtic traditionalism, a tablespoon of “neuvo-wavish” pop sensibility and add a soupcon of lyrical responsibility, flavor heavily with old-fashioned blues, and you’ll have a recipe for success: A Blues For Buddha, the latest album from the Scotland-bred Silencers. 

The band released its critically-acclaimed debut, A Letter From St. Paul, in 1987, supporting that effort with constant touring and an energetic, entertaining live show. Stints as the opening act for both Squeeze and Simple Minds helped build the band’s confidence, while headlining performances across Europe spread the Silencers’ reputation as a “must see” act. “We were playing to crowds of up to four thousand people,” says Silencers frontman Jimmie O’Neill, “and they were coming out to see us just based on our live reputation. We consider our audience to be more important than we are; we put our music ahead of ourselves.”

This is evident within the grooves of A Blues For Buddha, the band’s second RCA effort. The band co-produced the LP, which – save for one track – is comprised of Silencers originals featuring lyrics and vocals by former Fingerprintz leader O’Neill. Throughout the disc, the band offers a unique amalgamation of roots-flavored rock ‘n’ roll, soulful R&B, and native Celtic folk. “We explored the blues and our Celtic flavor a bit more on Buddha,” says O’Neill, explaining how the new LP differs from it more earthy, folky predecessor.

Lyrically, the group mines much of the same ground as its Gaelic brethren U2 and Big Country – racism, the environment, and corporate greed and irresponsibility are all fair targets for the band’s poetic arrows. Songs such as “Skin Games, “Answer Me,” and the beautiful, haunting “Scottish Rain” showcase both a sense of social responsibility and political awareness.

The band’s fierce commitment to its music places it firmly alongside such socially vital artists as Bruce Cockburn, John Cougar Mellencamp, and the aforementioned U2. That fact, couples with the passionate live performances that continue to build the band’s base of enthusiastic fans, make it safe to say that the Silencers are one of a handful of young bands truly ready for the 1990s. 

Review originally published by Sound Shop’s Play Magazine, March/April 1990...

The Silencers

 

Archive Review: Toad the Wet Sprocket’s Pale (1990)

There is a school of thought which subscribes to the theory that the particular genre of music known as “jangly pop” (a la This Mortal Coil or The Cocteau Twins, as opposed to the Byrdsian 12-string variety) must include numerous trademarks: thick, unintelligible vocals caressing deliberately obscured lyrics, surrounded by lush, sensual, almost over-orchestrated instrumentation. The listening experience should be, in the main, one of a subtle emotional stimulation of the aural senses with few, if any, jagged edges of intellectual pretense with which to disturb the mesmerized stereophonic participant. Just as there are exceptions to every rule, a fly in every jar of ointment and so on, so also exists, thankfully, Toad the Wet Sprocket.

With the release of Pale, the band’s rapid follow-up to last year’s engaging debut, Bread and Circuses, Toad the Wet Sprocket takes the cliched formula present in so much “jangly” pop music and turns it on its ear. Sure, you’ll find plenty of the aforementioned somber vocals and tender, ringing six-string wizardry within these grooves, but you’ll also find something else: a rare and welcome insight into the human condition tethered only by the band’s artistic limitations. The entire spectrum of human emotion and experience is explored within these lyrics, from the self-questioning introspection of songs such as “High On A Riverbed” or “I Think About” to the wrestling lovers found in “Jam” or the dreadful loneliness and tragic heartbreak in the album’s closer, “She Cried.”

Toad the Wet Sprocket’s lyrics are both poignant and pointed, reflecting not only the writer/sing’s feelings and thoughts but, presumably, many of the listener’s as well. This intellectual and emotional honesty, coupled with the band’s exciting and still-maturing musical talents make Pale a welcome respite from the lyrical (and emotional) vacuity found in far too much pop music. Pale offers the listener the best of all worlds, delivering an entertaining and thoughtful package which manages to both stimulate and hypnotize. (Columbia Records, released January 16th, 1990)

Review originally published by Sound Shop’s Play Magazine, March/April 1990...

Archive Review: The Flaming Lips’ Clouds Taste Metallic (1995)

What the Meat Puppets are to Arizona, the Flaming Lips are to the great state of Oklahoma: a homegrown, acid-fed psychedelic partnership that has toiled away in the desert of obscurity for years. Much like the Puppets, the Lips have more than a decade of slugging away on the indie circuit under their belts and have found a loyal audience and earned a hard-won success from alternative music fans.

Few of the Lips’ hardcore fans are going to be disappointed with Clouds Taste Metallic, the band’s eighth album. A baker’s dozen of psychedelic-tinged, free-flowing songs that serve to create a sort of musical crazy quilt, the material on Clouds Taste Metallic is full of distorted guitars and random feedback, syncopated rhythms, and chaotic noise. At first listen, there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of a hit single to found here; the songs create a seamless background to Wayne Coyne’s lilting vocals and oblique lyrical poetry.

Subsequent spins pull several candidates from the pack, such as the dynamic “Kim’s Watermelon Gun,” the cheery “This Here Giraffe,” or the esoteric “Brainville.” For the most part, the Flaming Lips tread close to the edge of madness with Clouds Taste Metallic, creating an uncompromising fusion of sound and thought that adds perfectly to their considerable musical legacy. (Warner Bros. Records, 1995)

Review originally published by Bone Music Magazine...

Archive Review: Mick Jagger’s She’s The Boss (1985)

The self-proclaimed “Greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll Band In the World” produced what could arguably be one of the genre’s best vocalists (certainly one of the most flamboyantly well-known) in Mick Jagger. Regardless of the twenty-something odd years of ups and downs with the Stones, Jagger’s first solo work was not only greatly anticipated, it also held great expectations that the man, freed of the self-fulfilling indulgence of his band’s image, would produce an album both exciting and timely. She’s the Boss, sad to say, is neither...

Jagger’s vocals on She’s the Boss suffer greatly when matched against the squeaky-clean production work of Nile Rodgers and Bill Laswell. The too-cool, never-miss-a-note musical support provided by superstars Jeff Beck, Herbie Hancock, and others rob Jagger’s songs of the “get down an’ get dirty, I’ve busted a button on me trousers” feel of even the worst of the Stones’ material. 

What the Brit boychick hath wrought here is a soulless urban dancefloor relic. Save for an occasional bright spot (“Just Another Night” comes to mind), She’s the Boss is shallow, non-offensive, and uninteresting. Strictly for the pitiful middle class white kid, who can indulge their latent “I wish I were black” fantasies. If you’ve got eight bucks to spend on a dance-oriented LP, go for something like last year’s P Funk All Stars. (Columbia Records, released February 19th, 1985) 

Review originally published by Anthem: The Journal of (un)Popular Culture zine...

Archive Review: Leisure McCorkle’s Jet Set Baby (2002)

The missing ingredient in much of today’s “modern rock”(aside from talent) is humility, the ability of the artist to reveal their emotional wounds to the world and share the pain with an appreciative audience. The best rap music has humility aplenty, though it’s hard to tell, hidden underneath all the sexual braggadocio, while folk rockers have always worn their wimpy hearts on their sleeves. Not since the early efforts of Elvis Costello, Graham Parker, and Joe Jackson – the “angry young men” of the ‘80s – has rock ‘n’ roll enjoyed such freedom. In this aspect, Leisure McCorkle is a welcome throwback to an earlier era, an anomaly in an age that champions marketability and profit over sincerity and talent. Jet Set Baby shows both in abundance, McCorkle’s finely-tuned, guitar-driven, three-minute pop/rock treasures drenched in sincerity and delivered with no small amount of talent.
 
On Jet Set Baby, McCorkle throws away memorable lines that lesser songwriters could build entire careers around, verses like the defiant “I don’t wanna spend anymore time making records for the popular crowd/I don’t want to be the sound that’s underground” from “In Touch With My Own Sound.” The precocious “jam the radio satans cause we don’t like their stations/we don’t dig their sounds” from “New York Eyes” has the antagonist chasing a girl, “she’s got Chicago style/but New York Eyes.” Unlucky in love, yet a hopeless romantic, McCorkle bleeds for us on Jet Set Baby, but don’t you know that rock ‘n’ roll cures all, so let’s fall in love for a night and the morning will bring another heartbreak. It’s okay, though, ‘cause “there’s a spirit who’s soared through the universe/some say he’s a master of the lyrical cha-cha-cha/you can’t erase his lyrical masterpiece” sings the great McCorkle and I, for one, believe him. 

Leisure McCorkle is the MAN, a new wave fury with a heart of glass and a bag full o’ manic musical hooks. The Reverend has heard the gospel according to McCorkle and now I’m going to “LA-La-La-La-La my way through life!” In a perfect world, Leisure McCorkle would rule the airwaves; as it is, Jet Set Baby will have to remain our dirty little secret. The Rev sez “check it out!” (MoRisen Records, released November 5th, 2002)

Review originally published by Jersey Beat music zine... 

Archive Review: R.L. Burnside’s Burnside On Burnside (2001)

Burnside On Burnside, recorded live at the Crystal Ballroom on, well, Burnside Street in Portland, Oregon, showcases a return to an earthier sound for Mississippi Hill Country bluesman R.L. Burnside. With a backing band that includes his twenty-two year old grandson Cedric and his longtime sidekick (and stepson), guitarist Kenny Brown, the 74-year old musician delivers a red-hot set of classic raw blues. 

Burnside’s bent-note style of guitar playing, inspired by mentor Mississippi Fred McDowell, is a classic example of traditional Mississippi Hill Country blues. When matched with Brown’s looping bottleneck slidework, and the younger Burnside’s steady rhythms, the guitar creates an almost hypnotic tapestry upon which the bluesman embroiders his powerful vocals. At home while on any stage, Burnside tells jokes, wanders across various musical pathways, and generally plays what he wants to play.

This is no slick Chicago-styled blues, or the work of some studio-bred Texas guitarslinger, nosirree - this is primal, no-frills, rockin-the-Casbah, honest-to-god jukejoint BLOOZE, delivered straight up, with no chaser. A gem among blues albums, Burnside On Burnside captures the music’s threatening ambiance and fiery essence like no other live album these ears have ever heard. (Fat Possum Records, released 2001)

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

Also on That Devil Music: R.L. Burnside’s I Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down CD review

Archive Review: Ian Siegal & the Mississippi Mudbloods’ Candy Store Kid (2012)

British blues-rock veteran Ian Siegal has spent better than two decades pursuing his own unique vision of the blues, leaning heavily towards the rootsier side of the Mississippi-bred sounds of Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters. Equally enamored of the raucous North Mississippi Hill Country style of bluesmen Junior Kimbrough and R.L. Burnside, Siegal mixed up all these disparate influences over the course of five albums to create a heady blues-brew that earned him induction into the British Blues Hall of Fame. 

In 2011, Ian Siegal traveled to Coldwater, Mississippi to record with Cody Dickinson of the North Mississippi Allstars at his Zebra Ranch studio. The resulting album, the Dickinson-produced The Skinny, was credited to Siegal and the Youngest Sons and included contributions from talents like guitarists Robert Kimbrough and Alvin Youngblood Hart and bassist Garry Burnside, among other familiar names. The album gained Siegal a newfound U.S. audience that had long-eluded him, as well as his first Blues Music Award nomination. Figuring that they could capture lightning in the bottle for a second time, Siegal returned to Mississippi to record Candy Store Kid, Dickinson again behind the board and Siegal’s backing band, the “Mississippi Mudbloods,” including Burnside and Hart as well as guitarist Luther Dickinson and other friends.  

Ian Siegal & the Mississippi Mudbloods’ Candy Store Kid

Although the bulk of Candy Store Kid is made up of Siegal originals, he opens the album with the delightful “Bayou Country,” an obscure but often-covered tune by former Elvis Presley bassist Duke Bardwell. A blue-eyed soul number with swamp-rock undertones, the song’s 1970s-era influence is dizzying, offering up delicious backing harmonies, Luther Dickinson’s hot git licks, Siegal’s period-perfect vocals, and an overall Southern rock vibe that reminds of Don Nix or Travis Wammack. Siegal travels a bit further south for the ramshackle blues-rock of “Loose Cannon,” the song’s greasy construct fueled by Hart’s knowing slingshot slide-guitar and Cody Dickinson’s muddy rhythms, the band creating a down ‘n’ dirty juke-joint blues with an infectious chorus and big-beat sound.

Siegal and the Mudbloods go with a country-funk sound for “I Am the Train,” a driving rhythm pounded out by Garry Burnside’s nimble bass lines and Dickinson’s lively drumbeats rumbling furiously as Hart’s electrifying fretwork slithers beneath Siegal’s lively but nuanced vocals. Lyrically, Siegal applies a metaphysical bent to a metaphorical tale as the slightly-twangy, blues-inflected music click-clacks in the background like the steel wheels of a runaway locomotive. A cover of friend Steve “Lightnin” Malcolm’s “So Much Trouble” is delivered with the subtlety of a drunken rhino bum-rushing a china shop but, to be honest, the song was pretty much written that way by the Two Man Wrecking Crew member. Luther Dickinson’s razor-edged fretting of the sitar (an unusual blues instrument, to be sure) helps create the song’s malevolent atmosphere. Siegal’s vocals are often lost beneath the claustrophobic instrumental soundtrack, with only the three-voice female gospel-styled backing harmonies bringing any sort of sunlight to the performance.   

Strong Woman

The Ian Siegal and Luther Dickinson-penned “Kingfish” is an inspired cross between Howlin’ Wolf and Mississippi Fred McDowell. Although Siegal adds a few spirited verses, the emphasis here is on spotlighting his ongoing mastery of the Hill Country six-string drone, resulting in an electric and entirely satisfying performance. The crew gets stone cold funky for a cover of the Little Richard obscurity “Green Power,” Hart adding his vocals alongside Siegal’s to great effect as Luther’s guitar shades some of the corners with candy-flake texture, but it’s definitely the rhythm section here of Hart (on the fat strings) and Cody Dickinson that fuels this funk-fest, the two providing a deep, wide groove that you could get lost in for years.    

Garry Burnside steps up with his hard-rocking original “Strong Woman,” his soulful vocals melding with Siegal’s gruffer voice for a simply explosive performance. The song displays a nimble rhythmic groove, peppered as it is by Burnside’s Hendrix-influenced guitar licks, supported by Luther Dickinson’s heavy bass lines. The gentler “Rodeo” offers a sharp contrast, the lyrically-introspective romantic ode offering up some of the most brilliant imagery Siegal has penned to date, his melancholy vocals providing a bittersweet emotional edge to the performance as a lush miasma of swirling instrumentation – led by Hart’s shimmering fretwork – blooms like a wildfire behind his voice. The deep-fried funk of “Hard Pressed (what da fuzz?)” closes out Candy Store Kid, Luther Dickinson’s buzzing fretwork slipping ‘n’ sliding beneath Siegal’s vocal gymnastics on a spry lil’ sucker that falls hard on the Southern rock side of the blues-rock equation.   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Ian Siegal has always been an above-average talent with a unique eye for the blues, but with Candy Store Kid and his previous album The Skinny, he seems to have discovered a new muse. By traveling to Mississippi and recording with members of the storied Dickinson and Burnside families (as well as the equally-talented Alvin Youngblood Hart), Siegal has created some of the most vital and entertaining music of his lengthy career. Going for more of a Memphis soul heartbeat than its Delta-dirty predecessor, Candy Store Kid is a career milestone and a heck of a lot of fun. (Nugene Records, released October 15, 2012)

Archive Review: The Nighthawks’ 444 (2013)

Veteran roots ‘n’ blues legends the Nighthawks follow up their 2012 release Damn Good Time with another strong entry in a catalog that’s been 40 years in the making and littered with dozens of great albums. As shown by opening track “Walk That Walk,” the recipe the band used in baking up 444 doesn’t vary much from previous albums – a dash of rockabilly, a teaspoon of twang, and ounces and ounces of pure blues flavoring. The song swings lively, with plenty o’ founding frontman Mark Wenner’s playful harp notes, a dancing groove courtesy of rhythm section Johnny Castle (bass) and Mark Stutso (drums) and scraps of Paul Bell’s electric fretwork.

There’s more to like on 444 than the infectious opening track, though. “Livin’ the Blues,” for instance, displays a brash Chicago style, the arrangement held down by a bold walking rhythm and Wenner’s icy, Little Walter influenced harpwork. The ostensible title track, “444 A.M.,” offers up a cool cats 1950s greaser vibe with Bell’s James Burton-styled chicken-pickin’ and Wenner’s sizzling harp. “Honky Tonk Queen” is the sort of engaging twangfest one used to hear in Nashville’s Printer’s Alley back in the 1960s while “Nothin’ But the Blues” is a smoldering juke-joint romp with Wenner’s gritty vocals, blasts of mournful harp, and subtle guitarplay. 

The band goes deep into the Delta with its cover of Muddy Waters’ “Louisiana Blues,” Wenner growling out the vocals above a lusty harp line, the band’s low-key accompaniment covering the song like kudzu. Like much of the Nighthawks’ underrated back catalog, 444 is authentic American music writ large, delivered the real goods with plenty of heart and soul. Grade: B+ (EllerSoul Records, released June 17th, 2014)