The king of sleaze-a-Billy return with their third album on western star, and it’s a killer! Opening with a couple of tracks, delivered with that pounding trademark JRS stamp, but there is much more to this album than the usual hardcore rockin’ that we have come to expect from the most exciting live act on the scene. The reworking of the Presley’s weak film fodder, Wolf call, is simply inspired. From the moment that dirty guitar breaks out, it’s as low down, as it gets. Then suddenly, back up Buddy, the mood changes for the Holly-esque, rest assured, with a soft, clean cut Lubbock Texas sound. Then….wham, the tortured vocal powerhouse Burnette treatment is given to let me home baby. The tease gives us a perfect example of Bob’s twisted lyrical delivery that makes this singer/songwriter so special. The pulsating heartbeat of Blues Caravan, the mixed up kid daddy’s got a gun, the tongue in cheek (and everywhere else…) in generous lover and then somehow the skanky trailer queen becomes a sweet, romantic harmony.. this stuff just shouldn’t be allowed. Jerry Chatabox, 2008 |