INTERSTELLAR MOJO: Walkin' Talkin' Global Thermonuclear War

i'm a bluesman: sin: salvation; cigarettes:

Blueshouse 313: & Arecibo blueshouse:

transatlantic bluesbands led by motorcityguvnor: leader, singer, songwriter and guitarist Mike Brooks who became a West London ex-pat and moved to Detroit and hooked up with a couple of badmutha Motor City bluesmen. Jump' N' Jive @ the Speed of Light is the last studio disc Brooks made with his old mates: Arecibo Blueshouse: and there is nothing whatsoever to apologize for. It's raw, raucous, full of sweat, beer, and blood. Brooks, whose own guitar playing has been deeply influenced by the Texas school that began with Frankie Lee Sims and Pee Wee Crayton then rolls right on down to Jimmie Vaughan, combines the Lone Star sense of soul with the ragged edges of the Motor City's switchblade sonics à la Eddie "Guitar" Burns. His songs wear their British blues colored far more Yank than John Mayall's; they strut rooster style between Nine Below Zero at their very tempestuous best, the wailing roadhouse rage of the harmonica wailin' Fabulous T-Birds, and swamped out Memphis rockabilly augmented by Big Walter Horton 's blues harp-thanks in large part to the loose-wristed slapping bass of Paul Lambourne and harmonica histrionics of Si Genaro. Brooks' six-string lays the edges bare, he's got a vicious treble swagger and a cockney edge in his voice. The whole thing is full of enough live echo and distortion to make the late Lester Butler of the Red Devils proud.

"Queen of Everything"'s got the dance-'em-up stroll, providing you know how to do the dirty jitterbug; "You Bring It All into Focus Now Baby,"'s got roadhouse brawn and burn to let its relaxed pace feel more like a pugilist doing the rope-a-dope; the backbone slipping, paint-peelin' skronk in the slow "Stone Cold Screamin' Mental" would have been a natural in the hands of R.L. Burnside playing in Junior Kimbrough's juke joint on a hot August night. But it's the spooky centerpiece of "It's Gonna All End in Fire," where the band pulls out its full bag of tricks. Creeping out of the gate with Brooks singing at his most sweet, sinister and soulful, it's disarming at first. By the time one gets to the harp, piano and guitar solos, it becomes a labyrinthine midnight creep through the electric blues and the lines between England, Texas, the Delta, and Chicago are all blurred. Heart drips from the hushed and razor-wire guitar lines in a labyrinthine slip through the dimensions of time, space and busted spirits over eleven-and-a-half minutes. The band takes the set out the same way it came in, rump-rollin' at full-tilt boogie in "Kiss Kiss Hug Hug." One thing's for sure, we don't hear the electric blues played like this much anymore. Blueshouse 313 play it with more balls than cliché, and use pure grit and guts in place of slick showmanship. ~ Thom Jurek, Rovi

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Sunday, February 20, 2011

Walkin' Talkin' Global Thermonuclear War