Month: June 2013

This is ZZ’s first studio effort since 2003’s Mescalero, and the band’s first album not produced by Billy Gibbons and/or longtime manager Bill Ham, the band having severed ties with him in ’06. Instead, Gibbons co-produced the CD with the man with the Midas touch, Rick Rubin.

Rubin, of course, made a name for himself producing Run-D.M.C., the Beastie Boys, Slayer, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers before revitalizing Johnny Cash’s career and producing Tom Petty’s Wildflowers and Adele’s gazillion-selling 21. His genius lies not in giving every project a “Rick Rubin sound,” but more often in stripping away window dressing that may have accumulated over the years to the point that it was obscuring the artist’s (or band’s) essence – like a sculptor chiseling away every part of a block of marble that doesn’t look like a beautiful female nude.

Judging by the result, Rubin and Gibbons were a marriage made in Lone Star heaven. Opening with the distorted “I Gotsta Get Paid,” they take the trio back to its pre-Eliminator roots without sounding old-fashioned or nostalgic. Next up, the kings of the big riff pound out “Chartreuse,” a new millennium “Tush” with a great Gibbons slide solo, slowly seguing into “Consumption,” filled with the Reverend’s false harmonics. Gibbons wrote all but one song, with outside-ZZ collaborations coming up aces. The one cover is an aching reading of “It’s Too Easy Mañana” by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings.

Considering that the CD’s 10 “official” songs clock in at under 40 minutes, it’s a shame many fans won’t hear the album’s two outlet-specific bonus tracks. “Threshold Of A Breakdown” features more of Gibbons’ nasty slide, while Dusty Hill delivers a great lead vocal on “Drive By Lover” (co-written by Gibbons and longtime friend and Austin’s hard-rock elder statesman Van Wilks), which is reminiscent of the late Doyle Bramhall.

The Eliminator-era sheen isn’t completely abandoned, but that classic is now 30 years old. In some ways, it’s more a period piece than, say, Deguello.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Afterglow is the third album by Black Country Communion, which features bassist Glenn Hughes, drummer Jason Bonham, keyboard player Derek Sherinian, and Joe Bonamassa on guitar. Their sound continues to fill the void left by bands such as Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, and Free.

Whereas their first album delivered what classic rock fans were starved for, Black Country Communion 2 showed the band evolving to display a distinct sound with range. Tailored influences, superb musicianship, tight ensemble work, and a clear vision from producer Kevin Shirley created a successful product.

Unfortunately Afterglow takes a step backwards. Due to Bonamassa’s heavy touring schedule, songwriting duties were left on the shoulders of Hughes. He gets help from Bonham on the arena rocker “This Is Your Time” and Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” influenced “Common Man,” but overall the record lacks the breadth of their earlier work. Reminiscent of a Hughes solo record, Bonamassa’s predilection for the cinematic blues pastiche is sorely missed.

Sherinian is unleashed on the Who sounding “Midnight Sun” while Bonham’s machine gun drumming is absolutely killin’ on “Big Train.” Bonamassa is sweet and incendiary on “Confessor” and his trade-offs with Sherinian on “Crawl” is exceptional. Hughes’ compositions are strong à la “Dandelion,” but his caterwauling vocal style is a little much. Bonamassa isn’t there to give us a break, except on the blues-rocking “Cry Freedom” where they share vocals. Hughes calms down on the mellower “Afterglow” but the big 1970s rock scream that few mortals can achieve is what he does best.

Despite Hughes’ wailing, Afterglow is a satisfying record. Bonamassa’s lack of song input and vocals fail to balance out what was once a complimentary pairing, but the band still delivers great playing, conviction, and epic songs.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Despite the title’s implication of down-and-dirty blues, this is closer to what we think of as folk music. Of course, the blues is exactly that, but Theessink and Evans’ blues is more the folky, ragtime-influenced East Coast blues and gospel-anchored music of Pops Staples than Delta blues. It’ll be considered “blues” in Europe, but “folk music” in the States, especially alongside the work of artists like Gary Davis, Josh White, and Staples.

Evans’ long association with Staples may be part of what drew him and Theessink together; both seem most comfortable with a little gospel in the mix. As a player, Theessink is as deft as the best of his type but his clean finger-picking is purposely not always as complex. On the more traditional blues of Elmore James’ “It Hurts Me Too,” his acoustic guitar recalls Buddy Guy’s understated work with Muddy Waters on the Folk Singer album.

A fun revisit of Jewel Aiken’s “The Birds And The Bees” has Evans singing and Theessink on mandolin. Theessink also plays some banjo, harmonica, and “footstomper” on the album, but otherwise this record is down to the essentials – voice and guitar.

Evans has sung background for Ry Cooder, who guests on three cuts, playing slide on “How Come People Act Like That.” The call-and-response vocal, straightforward meter, and finger-picked acoustic link the song to all the styles mentioned above. This one, the James tune, and Evans’ take on J. B. Lenoir’s “Down In Mississippi” are the disc’s finest moments. They seem like the songs Theessink and Evans had in mind when they came up with the good idea of making this album.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.

Since Moore’s untimely death in 2011, fans have been bombarded with posthumous releases – arguably too many of them. But the releases have been routinely of high quality, and this one is no exception.

Blues for Jimi features Moore playing with bassist Dave Bronze and drummer Darrin Mooney at a 2007 London show with guests Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell, the latter of whom was dead just a year later.

Moore doesn’t mess around when he hits the stage, playing the Hendrix bombshell “Purple Haze” with equal parts reverence and mad abandon. “Manic Depression” gets the same treatment, with the Irish guitarist nailing Jimi’s licks and inflections, but also pumping them up with his legendarily fast chops. Conversely, he can turn it down on “The Wind Cries Mary” and deliver a convincing vocal and chordal guitar solo.

One of the standout tracks is “Red House,” where Moore burns the house to the ground. If you’re expecting reverent Hendrix licks, you might be impressed when he dials down the volume, adds some wah, and lays out authentic bluesmanship. If you’ve ever heard the snarky remark that “Gary Moore is not a real blues guitarist,” this may make folks re-think their position. Figure in Mitch on drums and Billy on vocals and bass, and you have a performance for the ages.

The gig ends with “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” and as you might predict, Moore delivers another sledgehammer assault, again elegantly mixing classic Hendrix and his own inimitable chops.

If you’re a Jimi purist, this is probably not the record for you. But if you want to ponder how a scruffy kid from Belfast became one of the hottest blues-rockers since Hendrix himself, this is the CD to grab. There’s also a DVD version if you don’t trust your ears.

This article originally appeared in VG‘s Feb. ’13 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.