The Chris Ruest Band – Live at Shakespeare’s

flyerShakespeare

Chris Ruest Band

Live at The Shakespeare Pub • Houston, Texas

2013

http://www.chrisruest.com/

If you haven’t been paying attention to his career, this is the short version of what you need to know: Chris Ruest is the real thing. The New Englander has been a resident of Texas for well over a decade. Already a serious student and lover of traditional blues and blues-oriented jazz artists, the singer-guitarist came up through Brian “Hash Brown” Calway’s band (justly regarded as the finishing school of choice for aspiring Dallas blues musicians), and has worked with many of the Lone Star State’s most important talents, including the great Ray Sharpe (“Linda Lu”). Ruest cut his third CD, Live at Shakespeare’s, in March of this year, with JD Ditullio on drums, and the great Ronnie James (Nightcats, Fabulous Thunderbirds, Jimmie Vaughan, Nick Moss) on bass.

This brand new album revisits only a few selections from Ruest’s previous releases, 2005’s Too Many Problems and 2011’s No 2nd Chances (both excellent sets, recorded with all-star bands and loaded with well-written original tunes), but those provide an overview of his stylistic range. “Poor Lil’ Greta,” Chris’s apologetic ode to a deceased pet, spotlights slide guitar and a deep blues groove, both unmistakably cut from Muddy Waters’s slow blues template. “My Baby Loves Me,” with its swaggering shuffle and slashing slide guitar figure, is firmly in the tradition of Elmore James. And “You Suck” lulls us into thinking it is a garden-variety you’re-mistreating-me song, until Ruest sings the laugh-out-loud funny chorus. James and Ditullio lay down a quirky, throwback R&B groove a mile wide, reminiscent of “I’m Shakin’.”

The balance of the playlist expands on these elements with intelligently selected covers that give insight into, and pay tribute to, some of Ruest’s favorite artists. He dials up the reverb for a harrowing take on Magic Sam’s fabulous (and rarely covered) “Out of Bad Luck,” replete with a blistering guitar break, and ratchets up the rumba feel behind an update of Arthur Crudup’s “Mean Ole Frisco,” filtered through B.B. King’s version, with lead guitar that nails King’s ’50s style. There’s a strong take on Muddy’s “Champagne and Reefer,” a hard-shuffling adaptation of Lonesome Sundown’s swamp classic “Don’t Say A Word,” and two of Elmore’s greatest songs: a bristling romp through “Cry For Me” and a greasy reading of the stop-time Latin-influenced “Can’t Stop Loving My Baby.” I know “Bark” best from the Darrell Nulisch-era Anson Funderburgh & The Rockets; the band deftly handles this loping shuffle.

What do Elmore James and The Rockets have in common? Why, Sam Myers, of course. The harmonica great was a bluesman in the truest sense of that now-debased word, and perhaps the strongest influence felt by Ruest, who acted as the legend’s right-hand-man during the last three years of Sam’s life. Ruest pays tribute to his close friend by singing Sam’s “Sad Lonesome Day,” adorning the slow blues with elegant guitar lines à la King and Funderburgh, and his vintage gem “Sleepin’ in the Ground,” which presents Ruest’s guitar playing at its meanest, dirtiest, and most low-down.

The presence of the proto-punk nugget “Strychnine” reflects the influence of another of Ruest’s closest friends. The late, great Nick Curran was a fearless free spirit who was apt to follow a T-Bone Walker chestnut with a selection from the catalog of The Stooges, or to pair a Little Richard song with an AC/DC number. Viewed in that light, the seemingly improbable inclusion of The Sonics’ wild ’60s rocker makes perfect sense. Two excellent instrumentals, one by Albert Collins (“The Freeze”), the other from Ike Turner (“Cuban Getaway”) bracket the set. Ruest politely converts a mid-show request for something by Stevie Ray Vaughan into a teaching opportunity, instead performing yet another iconic instrumental: a stinging version of Freddie King’s “Funnybone.”

Like the rest of the program, these three songs let the band work out on touchstone tunes that still sound fresh, owing to their relative scarcity in the playlists of contemporary bands, and demonstrate Ruest’s control of the essential themes of real blues guitar. His playing, sometimes deliberate, frequently savage, is always intense, carrying the threat of violence that was imminent in the approach of Curran, or Pat Hare. Paired with this outstanding rhythm section, Ruest–one of the toughest players anywhere–is on fire. Live at Shakespeare‘s is his master class in blues history, vividly performed, and should attract a great of overdue attention.

TOM HYSLOP

The artist kindly provided the CD for this review.

Let It Slide

koch

Sterling Koch

Let It Slide

Full Force Music, 2013

 

www.sterlingkoch.com

 

In the almost ten years since a neck injury made it impossible for him to play guitar in the customary manner, the Pennsylvania-based guitarist Sterling Koch has become a proficient, assured slide guitarist. Koch plays exclusively in the lap steel style. Despite his friendship and association with several of the Sacred Steel school of players from the COGIC tradition, including Calvin Cooke, Aubrey Ghent, and Darick Campbell, Koch’s playing is staunchly in the style of blues rockers like Rory Gallagher and George Thorogood. His recently released fifth album, Let It Slide, delivers 13 solid blues rock songs.

For all its rock feel, Slide remains centered in blues. The mid-tempo shuffle “Too Sorry,” a Doyle Bramhall composition, features a solo that begins with variations on a rhythmic pattern before easing into Duane Allman-like high register playing. A second solo is just as effective. Koch turns up the heat on “Wrong Side Of The Blues,” an uptempo box shuffle, when he steps on a wah pedal during his stormy solo, and on his cover of Rick Vito’s “My Baby’s Hot,” where he supercharges Elmore’s trademark “Dust My Broom” licks and shows a playful side in fills that whip up the neck of the guitar. The cover of “It Hurts Me Too” may be leagues away from Tampa Red or Elmore James, but is well within bluesy territory. Koch’s singing and playing here are notably strong.

Several boogie-style numbers are especially successful. A cover of Bramhall’s “Shape I’m In” opens the set with an insistent, redlining pulse. Chuck Berry’s old trick of mixing feels, in which the guitar plays straight time against a shuffle rhythm, is resurrected (here inverted, so that the guitar plays the shuffle feel while the rhythm section plays straight eighth notes) to excellent effect. Koch’s high-energy “I Wanna Be Your Driver” not only takes one of Berry’s favorite subjects (the automobile) as his central metaphor, but proves that his patented “Johnny B. Goode” moves can be replicated by a slide guitarist. Koch updates K.C. Douglas’s Oakland blues classic “Mercury Boogie,” adopting the “Let’s Work Together” groove pioneered in the later “Mercury Blues” version of the song by Steve Miller. The figure Koch repeats as an instrumental hook is downright primitive–and irresistibly appealing.

On the subtler side, the slow, bluesy “I Only Want To Be With You” sports a cool chromatic figure and a keen dynamic sensibility, building in drama before a well-constructed guitar solo. Not the Doc Pomus-penned Ray Charles number, Koch’s “Lonely Avenue,” a moody instrumental with a lyrical edge reminiscent perhaps of Fleetwood Mac during the Green-Kirwan-Spencer era, is among the most powerful pieces on the album.

Koch recorded Slide with his working rhythm section of Gene Babula (bass) and John Goba (drums). While the tandem is never very loose, and doesn’t swing much, I have to say I don’t miss that flavor in this context. The reliable, keep-it-simple approach works perfectly, and although the feel is pretty firmly in the rock camp, it is never overbearing, nor is it tiresome to listen to. Koch’s vocals are a bit flat in affect, but competent, capable, and never mannered (a big plus in my book). And he can play guitar, beyond any question, but avoids pyrotechnics: his tones, leads, and rhythm parts never get much heavier than Billy Gibbons’s. Restraint of this sort is too rare among blues rockers, and much appreciated here. Let It Slide will surely be welcomed by those with a taste for the music of Johnny Winter or early ZZ Top.

 

TOM HYSLOP

 

Review copy provided by Frank Roszak Radio Promotions.