The shame is there is much to like on this bluesy, boogie woogie country infused offering but the production sounds like a Sixth form A-level project, and it is off putting. It's muscular guitar driven stuff and probably better suited to the live arena - the solos alone would suit a wall of Marshalls and a boot on the monitor.
Bennett, his dome sayer of a voice, dark, gothic and with a feeling of foreboding to come is like a snake wrangling preacher - everything sounds like there will be pestilence and war on the horizon. The lighter moments are jazzy but still something of the late night, heartbroken and with a regulation issue tear stained whisky glass.
He's part post Hollywood Elvis at times, at others like Orbison doing JJ Cale, mixed with Robert Cray. It's an old fashioned record, with all the right elements, just a shame about the production.
|Dead Man Winter: Furnace||The Western Flyers: Wild Blue Yonder|
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