Mudcats Blues Trio – ‘Burn Down The City’ Album Review

The blues, no matter what anybody tries to tell you, is not about technicality (although skill is welcome), wildfire solos or even proficiency (although, once again, a level of skill is always preferable) – it is about feel. That elusive concept is what has fired BB King all these years, an artist who rarely bothers to touch his guitar unless the mood takes him and who forgets as many of the words as he remembers; it is the same concept that made Muddy Waters wild roar quiver with emotion and Hubert Sumlin’s guitar lines shimmer; and (for we’re not having this discussion completely without merit) it is that incomparable sense of feel that makes The Mudcats Blues trio a genuine pleasure to listen to. Not that this rambling monologue is some attempt to apologize for a lack of talent – the band play with a fiery skill that becomes increasingly apparent as the album draws you in – but it does much to explain why, if you’re a blues fan, you owe it to yourself to check this band out.

Hedonistic blues revisionists, The Mudcats play an earthen blues that will be familiar to fans of the aforementioned artists, with added flourishes of Clapton in his Cream heyday, John Mayall, The Allman Brothers (check out the fluid work on ‘burn down the city’) and even Hendrix – a heady combination which the band do full justice to. Here you will find blazing riffs, raw vocals and solos that wind their way through the heart of the song with a sinewy skill that adds to the muscular power the band are capable of deploying and the production captures a grand degree of separation between the instruments, meaning that you can appreciate each band member’s talents and at least get a feel for the band’s searing live sound.

Opening with ‘Can’t stop losing you’ you can see the band have been playing close attention to the US blues acts who have been spending the last decade or so stealing the thunder away from the British blues acts of the seventies (Clapton/Cream/Blues Breakers et al) whilst home-grown acts have been few and far between, seemingly embarrassed by the catalogue of riches amassed in that oh-so-creative decade. You’ll instantly find yourself  hooked on the brilliantly springy riff and Matthew Doxey’s smooth-as-whiskey vocals. Speaking of Matthew, Mudcats operate a rather unusual set up where the lead vocalist is also the drummer (the only other bands of note to take this approach that spring to mind are Genesis, Autopsy and Kyrbgrinder), and whilst this makes no difference at all to studio work, it does beg some interesting questions about live performance and how the band present themselves. For the meantime however, it’s easy to abandon yourself to the harmonica lines that take the lead on the track. ‘Sweet blood call’ is a lyrical gem (“I’ll have a hard time missing you baby, with  my pistol in your mouth”), and a cover song, delivered with a fair amount of grit whilst the guitars  provide a subtly aggressive backdrop for the track. This is nothing, however, compared to the Hendrix-esque might of ‘Burn down the city’, the sort of wide-eyed, pumped-up blues stomp Cream used to engage in and it is delivered with skill and style by the band, making it an easy favourite on the record. If you take away nothing else from this review, listen to this song, it is an absolute treasure.

Opting to switch tone, ‘only the blues remains’, with its brass section, offers as much in the way of soul as it does blues, and it brings to mind a mix of B B King and Bonamassa’s recent excursions with Beth Hart. ‘Madcat boogie’ gets the blood pumping again with a sweet southern-style riff that slithers and slides over the dance floor, all smooth white pimp suits and Alligator shoes, stripping away the vocals so that the guitars can do the talking and then we’re into the brilliantly traditional ‘friend of mine’ with the classic line “I loved him more than whiskey, he was a friend of mine”, the slow drawl on the word ‘friend’ adding to the louche feel of the track. ‘Born to die’ (one of three covers here, alongside ‘sweet blood call’ and ‘ain’t nobody’s business’) is delivered with a studious intensity, with Chriss Wragg’s fingers blazing away on the fret board with Faustian accuracy and speed. ‘Stop playing the blues’ is soulful, laid-back and reminiscent of the Black Crowes at their most elegiac and the guitar work here is nothing short of sublime. Capturing two blues standards in its title alone, ‘whiskey and wine’ is an absolute belter, delivered with near punk intensity and huge helpings of freakishly wonderful organ, and you’re left wondering a)why more bands aren’t this brilliant and b) why Mudcats blues trio aren’t spectacularly huge because, y’know, they kind of deserve to be.

Having sliced through any remaining barriers to acceptance with the devastating firepower of ‘whiskey and wine’, the band head into ‘deeper than my grave’, a more traditional blues number neatly referencing Robert Johnson on its way towards the hole in the ground, whilst ‘Ain’t nobody’s business’ (another cover) is the sort of blues you can only truly imagine experiencing at the tail end of the night, your girl gone and your life seemingly lost in the bottom of a glass of whiskey. ‘Goodnight blues’ is an acoustic lament that mixes the blues with a touch of folk (a beautiful three part harmony that is heart-breaking in its solemnity) to create something that will leave you feeling strangely elated and devastated all at and thus it is something of a relief that the band choose to end the record on the searing, life-affirming blast of ‘Left my heart in Chicago’ which is delivered with a savage fire that cannot help but impress.

With a wild dynamic that keeps the album interesting, not a single poor track in sight and a sense of feel that surely places the Mudcats on a par with their stated influences, ‘Burn down the city’ is the sort of blues album that leaves you feeling energized, inspired and genuinely excited once more about a musical genre that often encourages mediocrity. Think back to when you first heard Clapton’s ‘From the cradle’ or ‘slowhand’ (because really, ‘cocaine’ is still one of the most rocking blues tracks you’ll hear) and that is the same adrenalin-charged sense you’ll get from ‘burn down the city’. This is primal, raw, dirty blues with heart and soul fully intact, played by musicians who have clearly practised themselves into the ground. Tight, exciting, beautiful when it needs to be, this is one album you won’t be able to resist playing again and again – hunt it down at your earliest convenience.

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