Vintage Review: The Dusters’ Dang! (2002)

Known as the home of country music, Nashville had a thriving rock scene back during the mid-to-late 1980s, with bands like Jason & the Scorchers (country-punk), the Shakers (Goth-folk), Afrikan Dreamland (blu-reggae), and Practical Stylists (power pop), among many others, exploring various musical styles and stylistic fusions. One of the most popular outfits on the scene at the time was the Dusters, a no-frills blues-rock band whose hard-charging sound was fueled by frontman Ken McMahan’s raging fretwork and soul-twang vocals.

At the band’s early 1990s peak, the Dusters received airplay on college radio and toured steadily throughout the South, songs like “This Ain’t No Jukebox…We’re A Rock ‘n’ Roll Band” and an incendiary cover of Savoy Brown’s “Hellbound Train” thrilling audiences from one side of Dixie to the other. Signed to an independent label in the Music City, the band was unable to break out of the Nashville rock ghetto in spite of a touring sponsorship from Miller Beer, and by the mid-‘90s the Dusters, like so many indie rockers, were crushed by the murky sounds coming out of Seattle. McMahan launched a solo career that resulted in three acclaimed albums for the French Dixie Frog label (which had also released the Dusters’ 1992 album, Unlisted Number) before touring as part of Dan Baird’s (the Georgia Satellites) band.

The Dusters’ Dang!

In 2002, the best and brightest Dusters line-up – guitarist McMahan, bassist David Barnette, and drummer Jeff Perkins – reunited for some Nashville-area shows which, in turn, led to a return to the studio by the band to record Dang! with Baird producing. Although the CD went out of print nearly as rapidly as it was released, it’s well worth digging up for the dedicated fan of roots/blues-rock, and is currently available digitally. McMahan leads his classic power trio line-up through a baker’s dozen of red-hot blues-rock romps, about 90% of them original tunes, with only a sparse handful of covers thrown in for flavor.

Dang! cranks up the amps with the album-opening “Goin’ Up Easy,” a McMahan co-write with esteemed Music City scribe Tommy Womack, the song a steamy slab of locomotive piledriver rhythms and blistering fretwork. The menacing “Mexico,” co-written with Baird, who also adds rhythm guitar if I’m not mistaken, is the best ZZ Top song that that lil’ old band from Texas never recorded, full of muscular riffs, endless swagger, and a sordid storyline that would make the Senoritas blush. The song’s uber-cool false ending is complimented by a hot, brief bluesy outro. McMahan’s “Red Sun” is a funky little sucker, with a sly rhythmic undercurrent, a mind-bending recurring riff, and rolling guitar solos that are warmer than a runaway bonfire.  

Cadillac Blues

You’ll find more than a little Delta blues spirit in the dark-hued “Killin’ Time,” a malevolent tale of violence and retribution with a swamp-blues vibe, a slow-burning groove, and McMahan’s shimmy-shake rattletrap guitar. The discerning ear will pick up all sorts of influences here, overt and covert alike, from Robert Johnson to Savoy Brown, from John Lee Hooker to the aforementioned ZZ Top. “Night Is Gone” offers up some of McMahan’s best guitar tone, kind of a cross between Bluesbreakers-era Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughan, the song evincing just a hint of boogie-rock within its emotional, lovestruck lyrics. McMahan’s six-string work here is taut and structured but still imaginative within the rhythmic framework

McMahan’s “Poison Love” is built on a classic Bo Diddley beat, but quickly beats it into submission with a revved-up rhythm that would sound positively punkish (think Black Keys or Immortal Lee County Killers) if not for McMahan’s soulful Southern workingman’s twang vox and the song’s femme fatale subject matter. “Barn Door” has a heart that is pure Chicago blues, the song itself mixing its metaphors with an urban soundtrack and a storyline that has one foot in roots-rock and the other in country-blues, while another McMahan original, “Cadillac Blues,” is a smoldering sample of barroom blues, wearing its heart on its sleeve with low-slung guitar licks and subtle rhythms. One of the album’s few covers, of the great Chuck Berry’s “Don’t You Lie To Me,” throws a little New Orleans barrelhouse flavor in with Neal Cappellino’s spirited piano-pounding running like the Mississippi beneath McMahan’s fluid vocals and a sturdy rhythmic framework.  
   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Blowing back onto the blues scene like a tornado, the Dusters have made major strides during the band’s ten or so years apart. Whereas the band had been enjoyable on record, if sometimes derivative in their approach, they were never anything less than devastating while on stage, and they could never capture their live performance dynamic on tape. As the three band members continued to grow and evolve while playing with other musicians during the ensuing years, however, they brought this maturity to the studio when making Dang!

McMahan’s guitarplay, always the band’s strong suite, has been honed to a dangerous edge through the years. The rhythm section of David Barnette and Jeffrey Perkins has developed into an explosive combination, unobtrusive when need be, a brick to your face when the situation calls for such. But the Dusters’ secret weapon may be McMahan’s skilled songwriting chops, seasoned by life and experience into an impressive bit of street poetry that combines a Southern rock heart with the soul of the blues. Dang! proves, without a doubt, that the Dusters are bad to the bone, with a black cat moan, and a lucky mojo hand. Can you dig it? (Lucky Hand Records, released October 21, 2002)

Vintage Review: Bill Lloyd's All In One Place (2001)

Bill Lloyd is remembered by many as half of the popular country duo Foster & Lloyd, who recorded three hit albums during the late ‘80s. Lloyd has always been a rocker in his heart, however, and he’s enjoyed a successful career as a songwriter and session guitarist, playing with artists like Al Kooper, Kim Richey, Steve Earle, and Marshall Crenshaw. His fourth album, All In One Place, gathers a decade’s worth of Lloyd’s songs from various tribute albums and compilations.

A glorious collection of pop-influenced roots rock, Lloyd joyfully interprets songs by folks like the Hollies, Badfinger, Bobby Fuller, Todd Rundgren, and Harry Nilsson. He also throws in a few of his own spirited compositions, as well as songs co-written with artists like Dan Baird (Georgia Satellites), Jerry Dale McFadden (The Mavericks), and Steve Wynn (Dream Syndicate). Think of a mix of the Beatles and the Kinks, with a slight Nashville twang, and you’ve nailed the pop-rock aesthetic that makes All In One Place an enormously charming collection of tunes. (Def Heffer Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by View From The Hill community newspaper, Signal Hill CA

Vintage Review: The Bluefields' Pure (2012)

Probably the closest that the Nashville rock scene has ever come to the birth of a bona fide “supergroup,” the Bluefields are comprised of former Georgia Satellites’ frontman Dan Baird (who, more recently, fronts his own Dan Baird and Homemade Sin band); Jason & the Scorchers’ charismatic guitarslinger Warner E. Hodges (also a Homemade Sin band member); and singer/songwriter Joe Blanton, formerly of such beloved Music City rock ‘n’ roll institutions as the Enemy and Royal Court of China. All three men have a lot of miles under their belts, all three have experienced the fragile joys of a major label record deal, and all three have pursued solo careers with varying degrees of success. Nevertheless, their individual pedigrees are impeccable…

That these three musicians came together is an act of provenance, perhaps, or maybe just the Holy Trinity (Chuck, Elvis & Bob) looking down from the Mount Olympus of Rock ‘n’ Roll. Blanton had returned to Nashville after a decade-long hiatus spent in the hinterlands pursuing the brass ring with an acclaimed, albeit impoverishing solo career. Blanton reconnected with his teenage pal Hodges (the two cutting their musical teeth together on the roughneck late ‘70s Nashville punk scene), the guitarist in turn introducing Joe to Dan, the three subsequently finding acres of common ground. As these things happen, they decided to write and play together ‘cause, well, that’s what rock lifers do, and the trio convened to Blanton’s secret, subterranean recording studio, dubbed by the newly-formed Bluefields as the “underground tree house.”

The Bluefields’ Pure

I’m not sure whether it was the trio’s rapidly-formed musical chemistry, or if jars of pure-D white lightning corn liquor were passed around the basement studio, but Pure, the Bluefields’ debut album, serves up a righteous helping of shit-kickin’, guitar-driven, Southern-fried twang-rock that fans of both the Satellites and the Scorchers will nod their collective heads in approval of, although the Bluefields really sound nothing like either of those bands. Blanton takes the lead vocals on most of the tracks, the man really one of the best singers in the Music City, criminally overlooked among the glut of clones marching in lockstep through the halls of the record label offices that line Nashville’s notorious “Music Row.”

Hodges does what he’s always done best, and that is to bash and mangle that plank of wood and steel, tearing sounds out of his instrument previously unheard of by man nor beast while Baird, the M.V.P. of any session he’s involved with, plays the fat-string, adds a little of his trademark Keith Richards-styled rhythm guitar where needed, pitches in on backing vocals, and even adds keyboards if necessary. Friend of the band Steve Gorman, from the currently-on-hiatus Black Crowes, adds his thunderous drumbeats to the majority of the songs. The bottom line, though, is that regardless of the talent assembled, it’s the music that matters…and Pure offers up more than a few surprises.

The album kicks off with “What You Won’t Do,” the song’s brief instrumental intro displaying more than a few strains of Led Zeppelin’s Eastern-fueled musical mysticism. When the band kicks in, Gorman’s blast-beats ring loudly and the intertwined guitars are simply smothering. The instrumentation is thick, like an intoxicating smoke, the arrangement more than a little Zeppelinesque but with more twang and bang for your buck, mixing roots-and-hard-rock with a bluesy undercurrent to great effect. The jaunty “Bad Old Days” is both a gripping morality tale and a humorous page straight out of the Dan Baird songbook. With a rolling, Southern boogie-flavored soundtrack, the lyrics recall a tale of woe that all three band members have lived in one manner or another. Sobriety doesn’t come easy, those crazy old days are in the rearview mirror, and with guitars that swing with anarchic glee, “Bad Old Days” is an unbridled rocker tailor-made for radio…if radio still played rock ‘n’ roll, that is…

“Don’t Let Me Fall” is an old-school romantic ballad, the sort of song that, with enough hairspray and metallic hooks, would have had the spandex-clad bottle-blondes pulling out their lighters twenty-five years ago. In these days and times, though, Blanton’s vocals are timelessly heartworn, Hodges’ Duane Eddy-styled background riffs a perfect accompaniment. The band doesn’t stay morose for long, though, launching directly into “Nobody Loves You,” a pop-tinged rollicking boogie-rocker with a ‘80s new wave vibe built on a spry rhythm, ambitious rolling drumbeats, and shards of wiry guitar.

By this time in the album’s sequencing, the Bluefields sound like they’re having way too much fun, a hypothesis easily proven by the Zep-styled reprise of “Repair My Soul,” a larger than life, foot-stomping hard-rocker. Built on a foundation of dirty Delta blues, the song is raised to the heavens on the strength of intricate (and inordinately heavy) guitars that sound like a clash of the titans, and Gorman’s unbelievable drum tones, which sound eerily like the angry ghost of John Bonham banging on the cans. With lyrics dealing with sin and salvation, if this one doesn’t scorch the hair from your head and get your feet a moving, then you’re probably deaf (or a Justin Bieber fan…shudder).   

As good a song and performance as “Repair My Soul” may be…and make no mistake true believers, it’s one of the best rock songs you’ll hear in your lifetime…the Bluefields trio scale the heights of the aforementioned Mount Olympus with the incredible “Flat Out Gone.” A runaway locomotive of choogling guitars, racing drumbeats, defiant vocals, and swaggering rhythms, one can hear the entirety of the pantheon of rock heroes channeled through each and every note: Chuck Berry, Duane Eddy, Gene Vincent & the Bluecaps, Eddie Cochran, Big Joe Turner, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, Roy Orbison, the Rolling Stones, the Who, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bob Seger, Bo Diddley, Johnny Burnette, Ike Turner, Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup, Doug Sahm, Link Wray, Mitch Ryder, Elmore James, the Yardbirds, the Band, Bob Dylan, and the almighty Elvis himself. The song is three minutes and twenty-two seconds of pure, unvarnished rock ‘n’ roll cheap thrills, the likes of which come around far too infrequently these days for my tastes and, I’m betting, your tastes too...

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

There’s more, much more to be heard on Pure, the album probably the best example you’ll ever hear of three guys getting together and making music for the sheer joy of it all. Every note played, every word sung, every beat of the drum is the result of lives lived in thrall to the muse of rock ‘n’ roll, albeit with a distinctively Southern perspective. As a result, Pure lives up to its name, the album probably the purest expression of reckless country soul that’s ever been carved into wax. (Underground Treehouse Records, released 2012)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine

Review Roulette: Dan Baird, Marshall Chapman, David Schnaufer, Tone Patrol (1990, 1993, 1995)

DAN BAIRD
Love Songs For the Hearing Impaired
(Def American)
    Former Georgia Satellite songwriter and frontman Dan Baird “fired” himself from that band after their wonderfully complex and darkly emotional third album and struck out on his own. That he should hit the often-traveled trail of the journeyman should certainly come as no surprise; the Satellites were always just a group of inspired journeymen at heart, as loose as a pick-up band in a one-night jam session, as tight and cohesive a unit as any well-practiced bar band could be. It should not come as any surprise, then,  that Baird’s solo debut would draw upon the same influences and inspiration as did the band’s best work: the Stones, Chuck Berry, The Faces...all those musical pioneers who defied the expectations of their time and defined an art form. Love Songs For the Hearing Impaired is no-frills, straight-ahead, gut-level, guitar-driven rock ‘n’ roll. A vastly underrated songwriter in a Woody Guthrie/Hank Williams “keep it simple but convey a lot of thought” vein, Baird has always had a flair for penning both lyrical and musical hooks, he provides both here in quantity. Tunes like “The One I Am,” “Jule + Lucky,” “Seriously Gone,” and the grammatically-correct “I Love You Period” are meat and potato tunes for fans who like their rock unpretentious and undiluted. From Baird, I would expect no less... (The Metro, 1993)

MARSHALL CHAPMAN
It’s About Time...Recorded Live At The Tennessee State Prison For Women
(Margaritaville Records)
    With two decades of toiling away in the music biz under her belt, Marshall Chapman has amassed a resume of songwriting credits and major and indie label releases that would make even the most hardcore alternative rocker blush with envy. The talents of Ms. Chapman have long been overlooked by all but her loyal legion of fans, however, making her one of Nashville’s best kept musical secrets. Only time will tell if It’s About Time...Recorded Live At The Tennessee State Prison For Women will win Chapman the long overdue success that she deserves, but one thing’s for certain: she’s a hell of a performer. Chapman’s blending of country, rock, and blues tends to make her too difficult to pigeonhole into any ready-made format, and that’s just the way that it should be. Chapman’s live delivery of songs like “Real Smart Man” or “Good-Bye Little Rock & Roller,” her throaty, sensual vocals, and energetic guitar playing as gleeful and electric as they were twenty years ago proving that there really is still magic to be found in the streets of the Music City. (T-Bone, 1995)

DAVID SCHNAUFER
Dulcimer Player
(S.F.L. Records)
    Dulcimer master David Schnaufer may well be one of the Music City’s best kept secrets…’tis a shame, too, because Dulcimer Player, Schnaufer’s second album for Nashville’s S.F.L. Records, is a sheer delight. This collection of tasteful originals and inspired covers offers a Celtic-flavored romp through the dulcet tones of Schnaufer’s dulcimer, a traditional instrument making a welcome comeback. With the help of skilled session folks such as Mark O’Connor, Tone Patrol’s talented Dave Pomeroy, “Cowboy” Jack Clement, and the Cactus Brothers (also known as members of Walk The West), Schnaufer expresses pure emotion through his instrument, creating a wonderful and spirited sound which needs no words to encumber the anarchistic freedom of its soaring notes. (The Metro, April 1990)

TONE PATROL
5.19.89
(Earwave Records)
    For those of you who caught Tone Patrol’s wonderful performance at The Metro’s Second Annual Nashville Music Awards show, then you’re already familiar with this talented quintet. For those of you who sadly missed the affair, this tape – recorded live at Nashville’s Douglas Corner – would serve as an excellent introduction. Stepping out from their various roles as session players, Tone Patrol’s Dave Pomeroy, Kenny Malone, Biff Watson, Larry Chaney, and Sam Bacco placed their creative skills together to deliver an energetic and mesmerizing performance, captured here in all of its beauty and grace. Tone Patrol performs an original and unique blend of jazz, rock, and so-called “New Age” music, instrumental tapestries delicately woven by the combined skills of the musicians, played to perfection in the spirit of the performance. I’d suggest catching these guys their next time out…and after you see them live, you’ll search high and low for a copy of this tape (as well you should). It’s creative efforts such as this which serve Nashville’s image as the “Music City” best. (The Metro, April 1990)

Vintage Review: Ken McMahan's That's Your Reality (1997)

The last time that Ken McMahan checked in here at the ConMedia world HQ, he was delivering a fine initial solo effort, Ken McMahan & Slumpy Boy on the French Dixie Frog label. Produced by ex-Georgia Satellite frontman Dan Baird and including the talents of folks like Stan Lynch, Terry Anderson, and Bill Lloyd, the disc was a steamy slab of blues-infused roots-rock. Needless to say, even with the fine pedigree the album brought along with it, Kenny couldn’t get in the back door at RecordCoAmerica, that one great major label whose A & R poseurs were too damn busy trying to find the next great alt.rock breakthrough to get their heads out of their collective behinds long enough to actually listen to some GREAT FUCKING ROCK ‘N’ ROLL rather than miring themselves in martinis and misanthropy.

Now McMahan – former axeman of the much-beloved Southeastern power blues trio the dusters – has put together a permanent touring version of Slumpy Boy, knocked out That’s Your Reality, his second disc for Dixie Frog, and is now poised to play live in your hometown. I recommend that you ring up your local neighborhood baby-sitter, draw a few dollars out of the ATM and roll on down to the club to catch Slumpy Boy ‘cause, if That’s Your Reality is any indication of what the band will be delivering live and on-stage, then we’re all in for an evening of good old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll the way that it was meant to be, with lots of guitars and heavy amplification.

That’s Your Reality, you see, is no wimpy “my life sucks, think I’ll grow a beard” carbon-copy “alternative” crapola, no sir, this 12 song collections rocks relentlessly from start to finish. At the proper volume, it’ll peel the paint off your living room walls and blow the windows out of your neighbor’s house. Play it in your car stereo and it’ll super-charge your engine like a set of racing cams and a tank of Turbo Blue™, melting the tar on the highway behind you. McMahan has picked up a little more of the songwriting duties this time out, and by god, I think that the boy’s got it all figured out. As good as his first solo disc was, That’s Your Reality is even better, the material highlighting McMahan’s growing ability as a wordsmith. Cuts like the rollicking “Fredonia,” the introspective “Everything Turns To Dust,” or the piss-off, get lost good-bye of “Reality” showcase an artistic maturity above his previous efforts.

Musically, McMahan is a vastly underrated guitarist, bringing a freshness and vitality to his material, deriving strength from his influences without ever mimicking them. Every cut here is a fat, multi-layered, guitar-driven rocker, evoking the best of almost half a century of rock ‘n’ roll history, throwing in just enough elements of country and the blues to keep it honest and interesting. If you prefer your rock to be of the two-fisted, hairy-chested variety, if you worship at the alter of bands like Humble Pie, the Georgia Satellites, the Faces or Lynyrd Skynyrd, then That’s Your Reality is right up your alley. With That’s Your Reality, Ken McMahan & Slumpy Boy deliver a disc that burns like a four-alarm fire and hits like a drunken prize-fighter. (Dixie Frog Records, released 1997)

Review originally published by Thora-Zine (Austin TX), 1997