GARY CLARK,JR.

filled with original observations. In a sense,
he’s Great Britain’s answer to Jonny Lang
or Kenny Wayne Shepherd, and to be sure,
he’s got every bit of their talent.
Brown keeps breaking new thematic
ground as a songwriter. His band’s sound is
straight out of the mid-‘60s early ‘70s British
blues-rock boom, which via the Rolling
Stones, John Mayall, Rory Gallagher, Cream,
and others, got American rock fans to pay
more attention to their own native born blues
musicians. Guitarist Brown is expertly
accompanied throughout this album by fellow
Brits, bassist Scott Barnes, drummer
Wayne Proctor, and organist Joel White.
Stand out tracks here include the
groove-heavy “Thinking About Her,” a tale
of teenage and young adult lust, “You Can
Only Blame Yourself,” and the album’s closing
track “Solid Ground.” He throws in a
nod to influential keyboardist/guitarist Al
Kooper with his cover of “I Love You More
Than You’ll Ever Know.”
Here I Am is another fine effort from
Brown and company. Now all he needs is
some good booking agents to get his
band’s music out to prominent blues festivals
in the U.S. and Canada.
– Richard J. Skelly
CHRIS O’LEARY
Waiting For The Phone To Ring
VizzTone
The anticipated follow-up to Mr. Used To Be,
O’Leary’s stellar debut from 2011, is a rollicking
collection of 13 well-crafted originals
with a decidedly Nawlins R&B/swamp blues
feel with four tasty forays into West Coast
jump (which shares more than a subterranean
link with its New Orleans counterpart).
Much credit goes to the sax section of
Andy Stahl and Chris DiFrancesco for the
album’s overall sound; their tight knit velvety
saxes propel as well as cushion the tunes in
a manner that evokes the glory days of Fats
Domino, Professor Longhair, and Earl King,
and legendary saxophonists like Herb Hardesty,
Lee Allen, and Alvin “Red” Tyler.
O’Leary is a skilled master blaster himself
and his brawny harmonica perfectly
complements his sturdy, no-nonsense
vocals that are reminiscent of James Harman
and Kim Wilson. For the most part, the
originals address a gamut of bleak and/or
questionable romantic situations that range
from desperation with the pulse-pounding,
harp-infused thumper “Give It,” to selfdeprecation
with the strutting “(I Need You
Like A) Hole In The Head,” to uncertainty
with the stop-time shuffle “Without You,” to
fear with the languid grinder “Louisiana
Woman,” a tale of a minacious Cajun
Jezebel involved with voodoo, and to selfdoubt
on “Questions,” which summons the
spirit of Professor Longhair.
BLUES REVUE 59