Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks. Live in LA 1973. Floating World Records

Fans of the late Dan Hicks‘ unique take on swing music will surely approve of this latest offering from Floating World Records. Although billed as a live show from 1973, the disc actually comprises of eight songs recorded for a radio broadcast in 1973 along with a further nine recorded in 2009, again for a radio broadcast. While the early songs are all a hoot it’s the latter set which is the icing on the cake here, portraying Hicks a little longer in the tooth perhaps, his voice older but still swell and with his sense of humour fully intact. In fact, much of the joy to be had here is in Hicks’ between song banter which is cool, hip and quite hilarious.

It’s the original Hot licks (and Lickettes) on the earlier recordings – Hicks on guitar and vocals, “Symphony” Sid Page on violin, John Girton guitar and Jaime Leopold on bass along with the excellent Naomi Ruth Eisenberg and Maryann Price on vocals- essentially the band who recorded the classic albums Where’s The Money and Striking It Rich. They’re on top form here and none of the songs featured on this disc appeared on the live Where’s The Money album so there’s no repetition here. They kick off with Evenin’ Breeze with Hicks and The Licks getting into Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli territory musically while vocally he and The Lickettes come across like jazz singing cowboys (and cowgals). The vocal interplay on the groovy Walkin’ One And Only is a joy to listen to and the ever perennial How Can I Miss You When You Won’t Go Away is, as always, quite magnificent. Above all, one is impressed by Hicks casting off of any psychedelic dues as he and the band swing through a set of songs which wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a 1940’s radio show although they are all filtered through his very hip sensibility.

The 2009 set is, if anything, even better. Hicks had revived the Hot Licks band name and was touring to promote his latest album Tangled Tales with several songs from that album featured here. Still ploughing his old time swing folk with a flourish, Hicks sounds older but his wisecracks and introductions are as sharp as ever (when an audience member shouts out “We love you,” Hicks is straight back with “Thanks Mom.”) and the band (Richard Chon violin, Dave Bell guitar, Paul Smith bass with Roberta Donnay and Daria on vocals) are more than a match for the original combo. The Blues My Naughty Baby Gave To Me opens the set with Hicks scatting away before launching into a fairly audacious take on Horace Silver’s jazz classic Song For My Father, given here a slight Caribbean slant which would surely have Ry Cooder gnashing his teeth that he hadn’t thought of doing this first. A scintillating delivery of ‘Long Come A Viper is introduced deadpan with Hicks saying “Here’s a tune called ‘Long Come A Viper, it’s a good little story tune about a viper which comes along so I called it ‘Long Come A Viper, it was somewhat of a natural conclusion.”  There’s a whole lot of scatting on Tangled Tales while The Diplomat shows that Hicks could be topical while mining old time musical tropes. The set closes with Hicks saying that his last song Who Are You is “Folk swing at it’s best” and, by golly, he’s right.

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We haven’t got a clip from the album to play so here’s some vintage video which conveys some of The Hot Licks’ fun and adventure…

Stereo Naked. Upside Down.

This entertaining and, at times, beguiling, bluegrass duo unveiled Upside Down, their latest album, at a celebrated Celtic Connections show back in January. That’s been more than enough time for this reviewer to get to know the album so here’s our thoughts on what is, in essence, quite a delightful listen.

Composed of Julia Zech on banjo and vocals and Pierce Black, double bass and vocals, the pair are joined by another duo, Rain Of Animals’ Pepita Emmerichs and Theodore Barnard (both bands have shared the stage on their recent tours) who add their voices, mandolin, violin and guitar to the overall mix.

We mentioned bluegrass earlier and it was via the bluegrass scene in Cologne (yes, there’s a bluegrass scene in Cologne) that Zech and Pierce met (she’s a native Cologner and he’s from New Zealand – a situation reflected in the album’s antipodean title) but the band are not so much your back porch exponents, fitting more neatly in a “newgrass” style while their lyrics can be whimsical, quizzical or just downright strange. This is best exemplified on Concrete Mountain, an odd conjunction of jazzy guitar notes, pizzicato fiddles and massed voices which seems to be a nod to ecological awareness but which also contains a lyrical reference to the Circle Jerks song When The Shit Hits The Fan which featured on the Repo Man soundtrack.

They open with a much airier number, Labour Of Love with Black’s pulsating bass prominent until Emmerichs’ fiddle appears. The harmonies are spot on as the song soars to its end. More down home is Square One as the fiddle and banjo saw away while Blue Light Antics is the most traditional sounding number as Black delivers this fleet footed tale of getting pulled over by the law. Zech takes lead vocals on Old Flame, a portrait of a doomed relationship although, later on, she’s also the lead on the wonderfully bustling Hold On To Your Love which is a tad more optimistic while allowing the band the best opportunity to flex their musical muscles on a brief instrumental break which is quite thrilling.

The album ends on a high note with Sun And Moon, a farewell song of sorts, an Auf Wierdersehen to be precise. As it huffs and wheezes its way one is reminded of The Incredible String Band as Black and Zech join together on a song which celebrates togetherness no matter how long we are parted. They may be idiosyncratic but Stereo Naked deliver some wonderful moments on the songs here.

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John Alexander. Face The Wind

For all the acclaim we accord (and rightly so) to American musicians who mine the rich loam of the south, the tales and traditions, the history, sound and even feel of the muddy Mississippi and the swamplands, it’s gratifying to hear a home grown musician burrowing into those self same tales with grit and determination along with a real sense of authenticity. And so it is that John Alexander’s latest album, Face The Wind, deserves to be considered alongside albums by the likes of Rodney Crowell, Ray Wylie Hubbard along with Robbie Robertson’s first solo outing.

Face The Wind is replete with an ominous darkness, danger lurking around every corner. Alexander’s voice is redolent of doomsayers, weighed with gravity for the most part as he prowls through the songs accompanied by some superb guitar picking, be it acoustic flurries or evil sounding electric slide. The album opens on a relatively mellow note with Bullets In The Rain, a gorgeous song which ripples with regret just as the guitars ripple and twist throughout. It’s a folk like song, somewhat akin to a mix of Townes Van Zandt and Lowell George with Alexander’s voice perfectly complemented by the vocal harmonies from Iona MacDonald (of Doghouse Roses). MacDonald appears again on the eerie frostbitten Living To Stay Alive and on the rough hewn country rock rumble of White Noise.

Throughout the album Alexander digs deep into dark Americana vibes. One can see why several of his songs have been grabbed up by several television series looking to add atmosphere and mood to their offerings. A perfect example is to heard on Don’t Start A War, an apocalyptic number with ominous percussion and flailing guitars. Even more ominous is the slow creep of Blood In The Water but amidst this doom and gloom Alexander, while not exactly lightening the mood, moves on from his Neil Young like sojourn in the ditch to provide several songs which are more supple. Face The Wind recalls the early days of John Martyn while Fault And Blame is a finger licking and finger picking dark country blues song. The album ends with the delightful This Side Of The Glass, an almost upbeat number despite its wonderfully wearied delivery. It’s a song which, probably for the first time, reminds one simultaneously of Kris Kristofferson, Gerry Rafferty and Ronnie Lane.

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The Doug Dillard Expedition. Live At The Fremont Hotel, Las Vegas, 1970. Floating World Records

Best known amongst Americana fans for the two albums he released with Gene Clark in the late 1960s (The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark and Through the Morning, Through the Night) Doug Dillard was an exemplary banjo player who had first found fame of sorts with his brother Rodney in The Dillards. Tagged as hillbillies via TV shows such as The Andy Griffith (where they regularly appeared, under the name of “The Darlings”) Doug Dillard was drawn to the newer sounds coming out of Los Angeles leading to his leaving the band and hooking up with Clark. Their first album is now considered to be one of the earliest country rock albums but when Clark dissolved the union Dillard decided to carry on with what was left of the band, utilising the “expedition” part of that first album.

The Doug Dillard Expedition proved to be a short lived affair but this disc, recorded when they played support to Kay Starr in Las Vegas (billed only as “The Expedition”) is a unique time capsule, capturing them in their prime. Retaining the brilliant fiddler Byron Berline from the Gene Clark band, Dillard had recruited Roger Bush on double bass and Billy Ray Latham on guitar, mandolin and banjo and the quartet are pretty much a perfect bluegrass and old time band on the strength of these recordings. Strangely, there’s no evidence of Dillard’s dalliance with Clark aside from a frantic delivery of Roll In My Sweet Baby’s Arms, a song which appeared on their second album. Instead we get a heady (and well recorded, given its vintage) set of speedball instrumentals and well harmonised songs, all played with no reference to the then burgeoning country rock scene. This is much more akin to the vintage music being revived at the time by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band on their groundbreaking Will The Circle Be Unbroken triple album.

Anyhow, there’s so much to enjoy here as they rip through their set. Most of the songs and tunes will be familiar to anyone acquainted with the bluegrass and country canon – Uncle Pen, Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down, Take A Whiff On Me and Cumberland Gap all get an outing – and at times the playing is quite incendiary. Berline’s fiddle is on fire on Orange Blossom Special while Dillard’s banjo playing on Dear Old Dixie has to heard to be believed. When they weigh into gospel as on Wicked Paths Of Sin their harmonies are quite excellent and by the time the set ends with Berline again a whirling dervish on fiddle on Lee Highway Blues, as a listener you might be quite exhausted. If at all you are interested in that intersection of tradition and new in the early days of country rock then you might want to invest in this fine recording.

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We haven’t got a clip from the album to share but here’s a short video from around the time the album was recorded.

Session Americana. The Rattle And The Clatter

Despite having nine albums under their belt, Session Americana are not a band whose name is likely to trip off the lips in conversation. A shame really as this collective, originally formed around informal jam sessions in a pub in Massachusetts in 2003, have recorded with several well known performers such as Anais Mitchell, Kris Delmhorst, Laura Cortese and Jefferson Hamer (all of whom appear on this album). The Rattle And The Clatter is a retrospective collection, a best of if you wish, which plucks 16 songs from their nine albums so far (with a new one in the offing).

The album title comes from the second song here, a live capture of the band in a well burnished and sleek blues rock mode on Making Hay which originally appeared on a 2018 live album. From the same album, Rodney Crowell’s I Ain’t Living Long Like This is a turbo charged country rocker while another live cut (from 2011’s Live album) Doreen finds the band having fun on a rural mandolin fuelled song which recalls the likes of The Gourds. The audience certainly seem to be enjoying it as they heartily join in on this loose limbed fun number.

While the above should encourage one to check out the band live if you get the chance, the studio cuts here are all memorable also. Beer Town chugs along quite wonderfully in a manner reminiscent of the Colorblind James Experiment while Helena (written by Jefferson Hamer) is a sly mix of gothic horror and Byrds’ like harmonies and jangle guitars. The band do flit from style to style but, like musical chameleons, they always blend in.

With a basic core of Billy Beard, Jon Bistline, Ry Cavanaugh, Dinty Child, and Jim Fitting, the band have seen auxiliary members come and go and several of the songs here feature guest vocals although the liner notes don’t make clear who sings what. Nevertheless Trip Around The Sun features a female lead on a sublime song, replete with rippling strings while Love Changes Everything has Laura Cortese singing with the boys in the band on a song which recalls the heyday of The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. We have to mention the opening song, Pack Up the Circus. Produced by Anais Mitchell, it sets the band’s wares from the outset. Wonderfully played, perfectly sang and rippling with a very cool country rock vibe it’s a grand start to what is an excellent album.

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Scott Ashworth. Ghosts And Broken Men

It seems like eons ago that Blabber’n’Smoke first became aware of Scott Ashworth, a singer songwriter currently residing somewhere around Falkirk who, over the past year or so has released a steady trickle of songs in a lengthy run up to this, his debut album. Singer songwriter perhaps does him an injustice as several of these songs were far removed from the solitary pose one expects from such a description. The first one we recall hearing was The Ghost, a fine slice of gothic Americana, peopled with, well ghosts, and accompanied by some superb spectral pedal steel and cavernous drumming. We liked it then and we still do, ensconced as it is in this very impressive album.

The album opens with the horn laden lament of I Never See Colour Again. Corkscrewed (and occasionally squalling) guitar is entwined within a New Orleans like slow procession creating a fine gumbo of a song. Over this hefty chunk of southern soul stew Ashworth proclaims himself a broken man, helpless at the hands of fate. A swirling organ introduces more misery in the Band like Pity Clown which features some extraordinary guitar playing on a song which sounds as if it were birthed in the famed Muscle Shoals studios as opposed to a rain swept central Scotland.

Throughout the album Ashworth displays a deep affinity with some of the best Americana music of the past few decades but he’s at his best when he’s delving into its heyday. Learning To Be Me glistens and chimes with echoes of Gene Clark’s masterpiece, No Other, while Running From Tomorrow also has a touch of Clark in its veins. You Can’t Break My Heart delves deep into the self misery which is essential to great country music while the band, and, especially here, the pedal steel playing (courtesy of Stephen Hicken Jr.) recall the cosmic country stylings of bands such as The New Riders Of The Purple Sage. A duet with Laura Begley on Sinking Silently is also redolent of classic country rock. Reining it in to just voice, acoustic and pedal steel guitar on the restrained Love Ain’t Around Anymore, Ashworth proves worthy of writing a song which envelopes a true sense of misery. Meanwhile, Happy Man (a true misnomer given its depths of despair) grinds and gyres with a heavy Crazy Horse vibe.

Overall, Ghosts And Broken Men is quite an impressive debut and the band (Barry Frame on lead, rhythm and bass guitars and piano, Dave Cantwell on Drums, Iain Donald on bass, Steven Hicken Jr on pedal steel guitar, John Elliott on lead guitar, Andrew Alston on piano, organ and harmonica, Laura Begley on vocals and Andrew Hooley, Damian Cook and Ben Cummings on horns) are to be congratulated for some exemplary playing. Ashworth meanwhile is more than capable of mining the depths of despair and displaying a true feel for the classic sounds of primetime country rock. His voice, slightly nasal, could perhaps do with some variance but, aside from that, Ashworth has certainly delivered the goods.

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Skyrie. Ceilidh-Celi

So, what’s a ceilidh band doing here in the American –roots music infused pages of Blabber’n’Smoke? Much of it is down to simple intrigue. Skyrie, who recently performed at Celtic Connections’ Danny Kyle stage might play traditional Scots music but two of their members have what might be termed rock’n’roll backgrounds playing with acts as diverse as Nazareth, Big Country and Shirley Manson of Garbage.

The band are composed primarily of a trio, Lesley Thompson Smith on fiddle and whistle, Jimmy Anderson on guitar and bass, and Chris Smith on drums and bodhran, but often play live with an expanded line up. Ceilidh-Celi, their latest release was Celtic Music Radio’s Album of the Week back in September of last year and having listened to it we can understand why. It’s a grand listen, even without the benefit of a ceilidh floor to get up and dance to it.

When on stage the band have been described as being “Hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch!” but the album is somewhat more restrained although there are moments when it’s hard not to at least get both feet tapping furiously, not least on the boisterous Virginia Reel where the band reach out across the ocean to add some Appalachian tones. Much closer to home is the Auchtermuchty Hat Dance, the title alone enough to draw you in but an excellent fiddle tune with Thomson Smith skirling and bowing as if possessed while Chris Smith’s bodhran is assisted by his skilful full drum set up giving the tune a propulsive beat. From the start, opening with a tune called Whisky on which Thompson Smith and Anderson display their respective skills quite excellently and there’s much joy to be had when they both take their turns to indulge in short solos. However, it’s when the band are truly locking step that the tunes are most infectious. In this they are ably supported on the disc by the award winning multi instrumentalist Fraser Fifield.

With tunes indulging in most of the favourite traditional ceilidh styles – reels, military two step, Gay Gordons and Strip The Willow – this album is just about all you need for a home made ceilidh. Roll back the carpet, get the drinks in and turn it up loud.

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Brown Horse. Reservoir. Loose Music

Loose Music have long proved themselves dab hands at discovering emerging American artists and releasing their albums over here in the UK. They’re no slouches however when it comes to home grown talent and their latest discovery, Norwich based Brown Horse, shows that they still have their ear to the ground.

The band, a six piece outfit, are grounded in the classic sounds of 1990s alt country. Listening to the album recalls days listening to off kilter songs by the likes of Granfaloon Bus, The Silver Jews and Clem Snide, or indeed, Loose Music’s own early sampler albums which were instrumental in bringing this strain of music to a wider audience.

Much of the album sounds endearingly home made in its execution. Accordions huff and puff, guitars and fiddles are scrubbed and scraped, the Felice Brothers come to mind at times, another band not afraid to sound as if they just tumbled out of bed and pressed the record button. The stall is set from the opening song, Stealing Horses, a wayward journey through tumbledown country rock, Neil Young grunge and Palace Brothers shambles mixed into one fine opening number but it’s eclipsed by the following title track which sounds as if it needs crutches as it limps (quite magnificently it has to be said) across a blasted heath of scowling guitars, plaintive banjo and wheezy accordion.

With singer Patrick Turner sounding suitably wounded and vulnerable across the tracks, he’s in need of support and the band set out some excellent scaffolding to support him. There’s a reliably chunky country rock feel to Shootback and Everlasting actually has some polish to it with a stately piano added to the mix while the lengthy Paul Gilley, a song about a drowned songwriter (the writer of Cold, Cold, Heart, and I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, both hits for Hank Williams), approaches the best of the early Whiskeytown days. For those who want a full blooded Neil Young like guitar thrash then Bloodstain and Silver Bullet should satisfy that fix.

Outtakes, towards the end of the album is another accordion inflected wheeze which also features some very fine twangy guitar and they close on an intimate note with Called Away, a delicate and wistful song which, with its rippling guitars and slithers of harmonica, banjo and accordion, give it a fine back porch feel.

Reservoir is quite an astounding debut album with the band showcasing a true affinity with classic alt country and we’d suggest that you get a copy so you can tell folk that you were with the band on the ground floor. 

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Dean Owens (featuring Will Kimbrough & Neilson Hubbard). Pictures. Songboy Records.

After his epic (and hugely rewarding) series of releases which dug deep into the sounds and legends of the American south west wilderness, aided by Calexico and other luminaries of the Tucson scene, Dean Owens returns to his own roots on Pictures, an album suffused with memories and personal reflections. It’s a welcome reminder that Owens, prior to his immersion into the torrid and dramatic Sonoran desert landscape, is equally as able to summon up the windswept romance of the Lothian hills and the daily grit of growing up in Leith, both detailed here with a huge sense of affection, almost rose tinted at times, tinged with regret for lost loved ones but leavened by some happy times.

Recorded during lockdown, Owens reached out to two of his erstwhile collaborators, Neilson Hubbard and Will Kimbrough who joined in on the endeavour from their Nashville base. Together, the trio hark back to the sound and feel of earlier albums such as Into The Sea and Whisky Hearts with Owens here firmly on home ground. A set of vintage photographs within the album cover are proof, if required, that this is a deeply personal album but we have to say that kudos are due to Hubbard and Kimbrough for their vibrant contributions (on guitars, keyboards and percussion),  giving the album a fully fledged band sound.

The album opens with Hills Of Home, a lilting slice of Celtic Americana if you wish, which finds Owens gliding over landmarks from his past as, presumably, he sets out on a transatlantic flight. His description of the bird’s eye view of his homeland soon migrates into a reminiscence of how he started off in the music business, back to the day when he first heard “the big music.”  He next dives deep into a love song, Pure Magic, on which he admits to his own blemishes, family traits from ancestors leading to mood swings (lion tamer and clown) and a hangover from his father’s stout (and much shared in the Scottish male) lack of patience. His salvation is in his relationship, his love, and it’s well expressed in a song which is gently borne along with sublime guitar and keyboards from his U.S. partners. In a similar vein, Neilson and Kimbrough add deft touches of piano and guitar to the sombre Sometime, a song which carries a seed of optimism and which can be seen as a thread of hope written when the world was, to all extents and purposes, shut down.

The spirit of Ronnie Lane looms large on Staring At The Lid (a song inspired by a saying of Owens’ father) which is enlivened by Kimbrough’s slide guitar and mandolin, perfectly evoking Lane’s raggle taggle travelling music and that mood is also present on Buffalo River, a delightful slice of whimsy which portrays Owens setting out on his adventures, protected by his ties to his homeland while Dalry Cemetery, an affectionate portrait of an ordinary but slightly eccentric  pair of characters is also reminiscent of Lane (and laden with Leithian lore). The past also looms large on Boxing Shorts, the most autobiographical song here on which Owens recalls his youthful endeavours as a boxer, paying tribute to his mentor with his band mates giving the song a slightly southern soul groove with punchy horns coming in at the end.

The album closes, much as it opened, on personal notes. Friend opens with Owens singing “We scattered your ashes in your favourite place…” as he offers a song soaked in loss, sadness and, ultimately, affection. It turns out that it’s a tribute to his late four legged friend, his much loved dog Alfie. Pictures, a slightly more upbeat number with the trio returning to the lilting airs of the opening song finds Owens commemorating his past adventures, his memories and his eternal ties to a friend (pictured on the album sleeve and to whom the album is dedicated) who has passed on. With a lonesome banjo dribbling out the last notes of the song it caps the album quite wonderfully. 

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Live review: My Darling Clementine @ The Fallen Angels Club. Glad Café, Glasgow. Friday 24th November 2023.

Glasgow’s no stranger to witnessing the odd bout of bickering between married couples and so it was that an almost sold out crowd crammed into the Southside’s Glad Café to welcome back our favourite marital sparring partners, My Darling Clementine, in anticipation of what we used to call, “a good clean fight.”

Lou Dalgleish and Michael Weston King, the two warring elements of My Darling Clementine, have long proved to be one of the UK’s favourite acts, taking the long held premise that country music can’t abide a happy pairing and transforming that into a hugely entertaining show. It helps of course that the pair have released a series of albums in which they sing superbly of the twists and turns and the ups and downs of being in a relationship, cleverly updating old Nashville tropes.

They used to take to the stage as a recording of George Jones and Tammy Wynettes’ wedding vows was played but tonight it was the stabbing keyboards of Timmy Thomas’ Why Can’t We Live Together which announced their appearance, Dalgleish resplendent in her thrift store glory and Weston King a testament to polyester, his sta-prest trousers featuring the sharpest crease in town. Launching, of course, into a divorce song, the weeping strains of faded love and regret parlayed by each on Unhappily Ever After set the scene for much of the evening’s entertainment, the pinnacle of the disharmony being a glorious rendition of There’s No Heart In This Heartache along with the somewhat redemptive I Know Longer Take Pride which has Dalgleish singing from the beyond to support her grieving husband. Performing as a duo tonight there was no sense that they needed a band behind them especially when they delivered the exotic rhythms of King Of The Carnival and there was even choreography as the pair danced to and from the microphones in step.

With no support act, the pair set out all their wares on stage tonight which meant the inclusion of several songs taken from their latest project where they delved into the country darkness they have exhumed from the songs of Elvis Costello. First off was a Costello song written with Loretta Lynn, I Felt The Chill Before The Winter Came, sung brilliantly in harmony, very much in keeping with the heartache which had come before and a reminder of how well My Darling Clementine have burrowed into Costello’s songbook. I Lost You and Either Side Of The Same Town just cemented this thought.

According to Dalgleish, Weston King has had the temerity to record an album of his own and this led to some inspired duelling dialogue before he was “allowed” to play two songs from The Struggle – The Hardest Thing Of All, a powerful description of solitude, along with his thoughts on a policeman duped by Trump on Weight Of The World. Dalgleish, bless her soul, weighed in on keyboards instead of leaving in a huff.

Of course, the pair revel in the comedy of the bickering – George and Tammy writ large on the stage. But when Dalgleish gets serious, responding to Wynette’s Stand By Your Man with her wife beating tale No matter What Tammy Said (I Won’t Stand By Him) with words such as “She’s seeing black and blue and purple because he’s seeing red,” in a rare onstage moment, she leans on Weston King affectionately. The pair are united when it comes to this.

Signing off with a great rendition of The Embers And The Flame, the duo announced they’d stay on stage for the encore, none of this false exit nonsense, and so, as the crowd bayed their applause they sang a grand version of Joe Henry’s You Can’t Fail Me Now. They would have ended there but an eruption from the crowd demanded more and so, an actual encore proceeded. Weston King dug into his past to bring up Endless Wandering Stars, a song inspired by a James Joyce line in Ulysses (“on page three” he said, he’d never got beyond that page). It was a delightful end to a hugely entertaining night.