There is a path that blues took, perhaps since the eighties, that has delivered big, polished, sanitized albums from big-name, polished, sanitized artists, a homogenized sound designed to shift units rather than stir up emotions. Franky Fugazi represents all the other pathways that blues took, those outside tracks and roads left traveled, from spacious, authentic sounds soaked in Mississippi mud to scuzzy garage rockers to back porch roots jams and everything in between.
Opener, “Early morning cigar box blues” feels like it was written a hundred years ago and half a world away, but a different river runs through the song, Fugazi having swapped the canals of Manchester for the Rhine Delta many years ago, but I guess there is something about water and the blues that just works as authenticity is the name of the game here.
A different type of authenticity is found on “No I Ain’t (Live at Jimmy’s Jukjoint)”, here sounding more like a solo Johnny Thunders or one of Nikki Sudden’s much overlooked bands, which is never a bad thing.
“Rebel Song” is buoyant and bluegrassy and banjo-fuelled and not unreminiscent of that wonderful band, The Cropdusters… no? Just me then. “Anthem” is a searing, scolding, scathing sonic salvo, one where the urgency and momentum of the vocals is beguiling and “Dry January” is kick arse blues-rock at its finest.
If you like blues, you will love this album. If you think blues has got too safe, this is the antidote. If you miss the heart and humor, the wit and wisdom of music, this is the answer. If you like music that tastes of life and which comes with the edges unpolished, this is for you. In fact, I can’t think of many people who will not find plenty to love in this honest, authentic, and alternative blast of blues. Joe Bonamassa fans perhaps…
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