Friday, April 17, 2009

The Nerves - One Way Ticket
Alive Natural Sound

Fresh outta the Bomp vaults this largely unreleased set shows The Nerves parlayed a non-procrastination belter of brash power pop that label legend Greg Shaw specialised in, y’know the sorta svelte swish sashays with slightly lip-smacking bittersweet tongue stains that The Beatles did as saccharine lachrymose shite in their early days, before they, like, invented psychedelia and Bono Lennon and shit, and before it all got cooped into a media pen as new wave. Anyway, this contains their only official EP release along with tracks slated for the follow up (being the Byrds 8 mile high on a rocket to Russia with a hip-flask of brace of Paper Dolls and One Way Ticket), lives, demos and the stunning fizz-frenzy of Walking Out On Love from breakaway band, erm, The Breakaways should be purchased for many more reasons – one being the Jack Lee solo It’s Hot Outside - than they being the originators of Blondie’s mainstream smash/crash Hanging On The Telephone, feature country-folk troubadour Peter Case in early incarnation and blatantly the band that the lonely, Loney-less Flamin’ Groovies sold their Gretsches for on the bland Jump In The Night late seventies era. File under lost classic with bile, style and baby, worth using up a little of your time.
Stu Gibson
Omar Kent Dykes
Big Town Playboy
Ruf

A usual all/some/ok, a couple just to make ‘em feel welcome star collection / trawl through the blues songbook? Sorta maybe, though this long-standing Texan stalwart knocks ‘em back from under bars many but the meanest adherents wander into, and many of those’d merely pass through, sauntering back to that all too commercial old Clapton and Cray crybabyin'. Sure, ain’t much hooch here gonna attract too many strays but this follow up to popular 2007 party maraud through legend Jimmy Reed’s crumpled papers with fellow Tex-blues luminary Jimmy Ray Vaughan features many of the same session dudes (including Vaughan, harp heroes Lazy Lester and James Cotton and Lou Ann Barton’s sassy vocals) struttin’ n’ shufflin’– in the best sense of the word – through other post-war electric blues mayhem and midnight howlers like Eddie Taylor’s title track, John Lee Hookers’ sloping n’ sly No More Doggin’ that Rosco Gordon did such a great half-cut, eyes half-shut stumble through. A tip-top tip o’ the hat by a rightful cat.
Stu Gibson
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