More
Norton Records goodness!!!
Our love of
Daddy Long Legs is well documented, they had our
Best Record of the Year back in the day, and well deserved. And the fury and sound don't quit on their second full-length,
Blood From A Stone.
Norton's a weird label, truth be told, for
Daddy Long Legs' brand of shakin' shack hollerin' blooze, but that's ok, cuz
Norton knows it's shit more than just about any other label out there, and
Daddy Long Legs, a Noo Yowk band, pretty much captures the scuzz of city livin' and transports that meme into a rollickin' road trip through blasted mustard-toned wheat and cotton rear-view window breeze. These cats have been touring the South, and we're fascinated to see what mighty sounds results.
But to the rekkid at hand,
Blood From a Stone, fuck me to the great Mississippi...
Kicking off with
"Long John's Jump", and a blast of harmonica destruction, courtesy of the 15 foot tall vocalist and harp genuis,
Brian Hurd (Thee Daddy Long Legs himself), the rekkid blows the roof off the roadhouse from the get-go, laying waste to the countryside with a hollerin' scuzzblooze workout, in'n'out in 2 and half minutes (the way the good lord intended for songs to last), guitarist
Murat Akturk forging a blasted boogie and drummer Josh Styles going nasty tribal on skins oiled with dirty human body parts,
Hurd eventually coming in with a vocal equal parts
Howlin' Wolf and Beelzebub.
That trend continues on the next track,
"Big Road Blues" (a filthy-sounding tune, all drenched in yowling vocals and harp, burning wheels on midnight highway),
"Take It Home" (a hand-clappin' tent revival raving foot stomper), the sleaze leather rave-up
"Motorcycle Madness", and the snortin', ramshackle
"Flesh Eating Cocaine Blues". Fuck me, it's loud, fast and out of control, consarnit!
"New York City", another barn destroyer, give a shout out to a hometown haunted by evil, distortion-ridin' goblins, and features "whooooooos" worthy of
Esquerita.
It aint all nasty trash, though...
."Chains-A-Rattlin'" is a drone stompin' meditation on mortality and loss of freedom,
"10,000 Miles" has a noir desert cowtonk vibe and
"Catch You Down the Trail" closes the rekkid with a brief yet effecting lament, juxtaposed with the final line "...we'll see you all in hell".
And that about says it. The band, a 3-piece, blows yr speakers with sonic jukejoint joy, wailing and stomping, harmonica blasting gravel roads into dirt tracks leading to an overhang of weeping willows, moonlight shining on a slow moving river, the barges battlin' with drift and silt. That skiff oared by Huckleberry on a meth binge, throbbing speakers disturbin' gators and skeeters, the loud sound, the groove, the dirty down low.
Man, these cats know how to kick yr ass.
Grab
this rekkid now... before we have to say we told you so...
Daddy Long Legs: Long John's Jump (mp3)
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