Album Review: The Apocalypse Blues Revue - Self-Titled

It’s about high time that one of the basic axioms of the musical world had an axe buried in it, and allow us the privilege of being the ones to do the initial damage.  There is a lingering concept in all facets of music that any so-called ‘side-project’ band of any given musicians can’t be taken nearly as seriously as their primary moneymaker, and that the artist him- or herself can’t be as serious about their second family, to turn a phrase.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.  While it is often the case that side projects aren’t as fan-friendly or critically successful as established bands, that’s as often as not a product of the central musician (or musician) trying out a fresh idea, testing a passion to see if it has wings.  Side projects, if they can even be called that appropriately, are places of experimentation and should be respected in their own right.

Enter The Apocalypse Blues Revue, founded by Shannon Larkin and Tony Rombola, themselves the respective drummer and guitar player from that household name of modern metal, Godsmack.  That name only comes into play as a marketing tool for this new band; any comparison of TABR and Godsmack, or worse yet, any judgement of TABR because of Godsmack, is foolhardy.

So, what do we have here?  This self-titled debut is practically everything the name suggests – dark blues that borrow only a little from rock and sound more akin to the origin of the genre down in the delta.  This is blues rock that hinges on that first descriptor more than any other, the kind of music we’ve all heard a million times in an action movie’s saloon fight scene, particularly if it involves Kurt Russell.  Bass players the world over dream about playing in a band like this, just to be able to lay down some solid blues riffs with little fanfare or frills.

Now, I get it.  You’re saying ‘D, so far you’ve successfully described Monster Truck.’  Not at all.  TABR is a straight-up, no-chaser blues record, calling to mind the halcyon days of Lead Belly and John Lee Hooker, though there’s a lot of Stevie Ray Vaughn in there too, which is a solid credit o Rombola’s playing style.

More on that in a minute.  A major piece of the puzzle here is the vocal stylings of Rafer John, who mixes in the vocal personality of Jim Morrison, Neil Fallon, Jack Bruce and just a little David Allan Coe.  His voice is ideally suited for this kind of music, fleshing out the corners and turning what began as just a jam session into a full-bodied album.

Anyway, Rombola.  His sense of the natural oscillation of blues riffing, as we hear both in the excellent “Devil Plays a Strat” and “The Tower.”  Riffs and proper exhibition in the blues are not based on speed or precision so much as they are on placement and feel, both of which Rombola has an excellent feel for.  We see this again and again in the album, perhaps coming to a head for the rollicking solo that bridges the halves of “Crossed Over.”  This kind of guitar artistry is worth hearing, and this is why side projects have merit, as Rombola deserves a chance to show the world this skill set.

Worth noting – TABR seems equally well equipped to be listened to either as the background music for your home poker game, or in single snippets for your blues fix.  Either way, you’re getting value out of the product, but it may not be an album where you have to hear certain cuts or sections as certain times.

The Apocalypse Blues Revue is much better constructed and executed than their goofball blues contemporaries like Honky.  That doesn’t mean that this band has no goofball DNA, just that it keeps its goofball contained and dosed out appropriately.  Now we’ll stop saying ‘goofball.’  This is a strong debut record that even if there is never a follow up, will leave a mark both on the new millenniums blues rock repertoire and on side projects around the globe.

Album Review: Supersonic Blues Machine - "West of Flushing South of Frisco"

Rock band Supersonic Blues Machine functions under the basic principle that when the Devil taught Robert Johnson how to play the blues in exchange for his immortal soul, the medium was already fairly well developed, and by the time we were introduced as a population to John Lee Hooker, no more evolution was necessary.  Through this lens, Stevie Ray Vaughn and ZZ Top sort of become the final prophets, the last Testament of blues rock who kept the root genre pure, even differentiating it from the very minor tweaks embedded by either rockabilly or the British or both.

It makes sense then, that Billy Gibbons appears  as one of many guests on the band’s debut record “West of Flushing, South of Frisco” not in a torch passing (because no one believes ZZ Top to be done,) but in a show of solidarity with the very idea that blues rock needn’t have ever made any adjustments.  Gibbons’ endorsement of Supersonic Blues Machine proves the band’s proper chops to handle this aging but revered and weighty genre with proper care and admiration.

Nowhere is this craftsmanship more apparent than in the smile-inducing, easy singalong of “Remedy,” (featuring Warren Haynes!) an old-school swinging rock anthem backed by a big chorus and a simple hook that both embraces the listener and reminds them of yesteryear.  There’s some Doobie Brothers in the mix here, but Supersonic Blues Machine still manages to sound fresh, creating a sound that is inimitably their own.

Not to be outdone, we’re then treated to the two song set of “Bone Bucket Blues” and “Let It Be,” both the kind of up-tempo, finger-snapping singalongs that have floated this particular musical idiom for roughly sixty years.  The former even contains a brief throwback to Hooker’s timeless classic “Boom Boom,” sewn into the seams of a song that moves and bounces.  The latter is a slow burn; a deep groove that relies heavily on the soulful tones of traditional blues to make to an impacting statement.  It’s two different interpretations of the lessons of blues rock, both equally vital to the greater story of How We Got Here.

The bothersome detail of Supersonic Blues Machine lies partly in a fault of the name of the band.  That is to say, the music experienced on “West of Flushing, South of Frisco” is a lot of things, but ‘Supersonic’ isn’t among them.  It’s similar to when hearing of the band Megaton Leviathan and then discovering that it’s an atmospheric band that doesn’t really play notes (sorry, that’s a cheap dig at a band not here to defend themselves.)  Anyway, the music here doesn’t necessarily need to be blistering for it to be successful or achieve its goal, but a little more urgency might have roughed up the edges just a smidge (technical term.)  The lead-up of “Running Whiskey” is soulful and great, but the chorus comes across flat.  For an album that boasts so many guests who have this principle in their wheelhouse, it comes as some disappointment that Supersonic Blues Machine missed the lesson on payoff.  Only for a short instrumental cut toward the end, “Whiskey Time,” do we really see the kind of pedal-pushing oomph that so characterizes so many of the Blues Machine’s idols.

I want to love “West of Flushing, South of Frisco” because I love all the ideas behind it and all the ideals that it stands for.  All of that is perfect.  The composition is really good, and the performance of the band is both consistent and tight.  But as it stands, I can only bring myself to like this record, not love it.  There’s some adrenaline missing in the margins that would have gone a long way.

Nevertheless, let’s not get too down.  Still way more good than bad here.  “West of Flushing, South of Frisco” is a really good record, and an excellent example of the undying marriage of blues and rock and roll.  If you’re in the northeast and frozen solid into your home by the cold snap this weekend, warm up your beverage of choice and you could well relax the day away with this.