After the previous album, you’d be forgiven for expecting the Mudcats Blues Trio to tear into you with a Hendrix-esque fire so when the album opens with the sublime intro of ‘Blind WIllie Johnson’ with its beautiful harmonies, it comes as something of a surprise, although not an unwelcome one. For those of you not familiar with the Mudcats, the band are a Sheffield-based, hard-rocking blues combo who draw from the likes of Rory Gallagher, Cream, Walter Trout and Buddy Guy for inspiration. Their version of the blues is, more often than not, a seismic event, their riffs played with skilful ferocity on burning guitars backed by a rhythm section of awesome precision. If you’ve not yet come across the band, prepare yourself for this is the year of the Mudcats.
The album kicks into high gear on ‘breaking over you’ which leaps out of the speakers following the aforementioned intro like a feral cat on heat. Opting for a gritty guitar tone and wild-eyed soloing before a note is sung, the band get your attention and keep it, and you can imagine the band tearing into the audience at one of Eric Clapton’s Crossroads gigs with ease such is the power of their delivery. It’s a stunning opening track that draws the listener into the heart of this smoky, varied album and there is no doubt that the Mudcats are firing on all cylinders here. Breaking into a fast moving shuffle, ‘times have changed’ is a funky little beast that more or less demands that the listener move their feet, whether they wish to or not, and the nimble guitar work glistens as the song works its way towards an intricate and typically impressive solo. Moving into the late night blues of smoke-filled whiskey bars, ‘where the cold winds blow’ should only be listened to in LA at two in the morning, so evocative are the licks on offer here, whilst the vocals drift dreamily through the haze. It’s a brilliantly eloquent number that glistens like the sequins on the dress of a well-heeled waitress and it takes you clean away from the grey reality of modern life and transports you to a different world altogether, where the alcohol flows and patrons admire the house band’s inordinate talent. It’s not long, however, before the Mudcats cast off their stage clothing and unleash some heavy blues via the slide-guitar laden ‘cruel hard world’ which lodges itself somewhere between Danny Bryant and Jimi Hendrix with its monumental riffs and gritty vocals. In contrast ‘drowning in the flood’ takes the soulful work of Robert Cray, complete with backing vocals and brass section, to deliver a smooth, soulful take on the blues that rolls smoothly form the speakers as the guitar weaves its languid magic about you. Drawing on hints of (Mk1) Deep Purple, John Mayall and Smokey Robertson, it’s a beautiful example of classic R&B that would surely have burned up the airwaves if it had been released in the late 60s but sadly now is destined only to be admired by aficionados.
As befits the title, ‘gates of hell’ is a suitably spicy number that takes the listener on a trip to the titular location as Buddy Guy and BB King watch on with wry smiles. The band keep the dance floor packed with ‘can’t cry no more’ which’ has a powerful groove and some stunning solos on offer but it’s the slow moving traditionalism of ‘fool heart of mine’ that truly captures the attention, the band once again transporting the listener to some low-rent bar in LA for a song that advocates liquor as the great panacea for all life’s ills as the band sing “I’m gonna drink till I stumble, gonna drink till I’m clean outta of my mind”. It’s worth listening carefully, too, for the layers of backing vocals hidden within the mix that give the song a Blues Brothers feel. ‘Devil tortures me’ is a rather more elegant song packed with leisurely solos that recall the melodic beauty of Sonny Landreth’s compositions. ‘Break these chains’ sees the album moving towards its conclusion with a rebellious sentiment and some truly outstanding guitar work and then there is only the brief and beautiful ‘I feel cold’ which ends the album as it began, with some perfectly harmonised acoustic blues, leaving the listener with no option but to play the album again.
That the Mudcats are, in fact, English, is rather hard to fathom. Listening to this album you could swear to the fact that the band are all in their late sixties and grew up in some unnamed suburb of LA exposed to hardship, the fall out of the civil rights movement and the masters of the genre. References abound from BB King to Robert Cray, from Jimi Hendrix to Stevie Ray Vaughan, but what makes the Mudcats special is their ability to evoke a specific mood and place with their music, the guitars speaking as clearly as any vocalist and the overall vibe relaxed, funky and passionate. The blues of the Mudcats is a soulful, frequently fiery blues that demands close attention and there is no question that this deeply committed trio will only continue to get better with age. In short, The Mudcats Blues Trio have delivered one hell of an album, a stunning blues record that manages to compete even with the stiff competition of the other great blues records released this year (Kenny Wayne Shepherd, John Bryant, Eric Clapton and Friends and Walter Trout) and really impress. A varied, exciting and beautifully passionate record, this self-titled effort is an absolute scorcher and essential listening to any blues fan out there.
