Mike Franano – Chair At My Table
The notoriously prickly figure of Mark E. Smith influenced the songwriting style of nearly everyone in the post-punk style and, indeed, anyone in his direct vicinity. When questioned about his methods, he used to say that what he employed was a tactic by which he’d go down to a town pub, wait for a while until the natives got on his nerves and, only then, got out his notebook to start scribbling lyrics. It worked!
Blues artists, at least those that really mean what they say and aren’t merely cosplaying a Stevie Ray Vaughan, I find, take a similar approach. Only, in their case, what they do is go downtown, do their very best to fall in love with someone destined to break their heart into pieces, and only then get the notebook and the guitar out.
This is, by the sound of it, the tactics employed by Mike Franano for the single “Chair At My Table.” This is electrified blues for lonely nights and meant to be used as medicine for hearts that need healing. This is music for all the people you’ve allowed to enter your life, but have done you wrong. This is the blues screaming out for a chance at something better.
Todd Adelman – Hot As The Hinges
If you really stop to think about it, what did bands like The Rolling Stones, Faces or Led Zeppelin really do to achieve all of the success that they achieved in their careers? Were they simply bashful poets singing love songs over gently strummed acoustic guitars, or respectable surveyors of tasteful pop music?
No, they sold a fantasy based on North American blues, had it a hell of a boogie groove, and wrote lyrics about how women folk simply could not resist them in any sort of way. Nearly everything they did was not something based in fact or reality. But wouldn’t the world want more of that? And doesn’t it deserve to get it?
Todd Adelman’s “Hot As The Hinges” might take a moment to warm up to you. But this is Jaggersque, if you’ve ever heard one. It’s equipped with such a strong, silly, grooving hook that you can even forget the AI-powered music video. This is music coming out of some imaginary honky tonk saloon that delivers you to that place inside your head to which you need to escape.
