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A Rose by any other name (Jack) would sound as sweet. With more pluck and swagger and a fellow Pelt banjo carpetbagger (Mike Gangloff) the title track feels like a strut around the chicken coup without stepping in any poop. Steel strings smiling chicken wire.
The mood darkens and drops about six feet on the flip side…the good doctor is dispatched alone to cover “Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground.” Taking a bluesy scalpel to slide and slice up his guitar, this thing moves with the slow purpose of a drop of sweat down Harry Stanton’s back in “Paris, Texas.” Blind Willie Johnson is turning in his grave, only so’s he can get an ear as close to the sound as is post-humously possible.
Two done the right way, for pickers and sinners alike.
Also this is the firstborn for a fine new label too, with a package near as purty as the sound purveyed therein.
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