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The solo career of DOGS D’AMOUR leader TYLA has, to be fair, been wildly uneven, ranging from his typical glam-inflected roots rock & roll to acoustic folk/blues to ill-advised excursions into industrial rock. When Bastards Go to Hell and Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, his last couple of albums under the Dogs name (actually one-man-band solo records) got lost in a filmy, gothic murk, but XIII Shades of Black and In Life, In Love, In Dreams, his most recent solo-billed LPs were quite good. In the middle of all that was a solid, occasionally stunning live album under the Dogs D’amour banner, with Tyla being the only survivor of the group’s original lineup.
Which brings us to Bloody Hell Fire, credited to TYLA & THE DOGS. A double-disk set, BHF features the songwriter joined by a horn section, extra guitarists and an actual corporal drummer. (His last few albums have used drum machines.) While not the result of a true band, the electric songs have a streamlined kick his work hasn’t boasted since Ever After, the last true Dogs record. “Rails” and the religious fanatic-bashing “Supreme Creator” make excellent use of the horns, sounding not unlike the SAINTS in their prime, while “Restless,” “Once Upon a Time” and “111 (Electric)” are simply his most ass-kicking tracks in ages.
But the heart of the album is the acoustic balladry in which he’s always loved to indulge – he called one of his early solo records Life and Times of a Ballad Monger for good reason. “In the Name,” “Real Magique” and the hyper-romantic “Best Friend” dig deep into his soul for heart-on-sleeve emotion; “Saturday Night” conjures up some of the old Dogs D’amour decadence while still remaining wistful. Tyla has long taken the position of the troubadour who’s seen and done it all, but rather than becoming world weary, remains romantic, and the best tunes here embody that self-defined spirit.
The album isn’t perfect. There’s the occasional cringe-worthy lyric, his gravelly croon sometimes rolls into overripe excess and while “All of Them Great” is a strong song, there was no real need to record it for the fourth time. (Though the saxophone doubling the riff is an interesting touch.) But a flawless Tyla album would be unnatural – his penchant for following his instincts rather than polishing his craft is partially what gives his work its charm. This ain’t pre-packaged, overworked product aimed at mass saturation through spitshined blandness – Bloody Hell Fire is a work of pure spirit, unpolished talent and raw heart, the kind of album made by a real person with hopes, dreams and disappointments running out of his veins and into the grooves. Isn’t that what rock & roll is all about?
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