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HONEY B & THE T-BONES
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 This
one rumbled to life with a wicked slash of slide-guitar boogie and for a
second there, I was gonna rail about all these skinny 20-something white
boys around these days howlin’ mercy like Lightning Hopkins and
Hound Dog Taylor, and you just KNOW these sweater wearing
motherfuckers don’t know what the blues REALLY feel like, right?
But then the muffled motorcycle vocals of Sister Honey B kicked in,
and I started to feel a little better about this whole trip. And then when
I learned that the T-Bones have been singing the blooze in Finland,
of all places, for 23 fuckin’ years, I just gave in completely, because if
you’ve done anything at all for 23 years straight, then baby, you most
definitely have the blues. This is the 10th T-Bones album in twice as many
years, and it sounds like it. The T-Bones are tight and instinctive, led
by the snaky vibrato guit-box of Reverend Mckuloniemi and anchored
by Honey’s mean, smoky vox. As the title suggests, “Terrifying Stories”
is full of laments, testimonials, and the occasional voodoo curse, all of
it bleeding freely in amber waves of fuzzy rhythms and heavy downtown
blues. If ya dig Johnny Winter and Stevie Ray Vaughn, then
this’ll really turn your hair white, but even the un-blue oughta get some
raw, wild kicks outta this. Damn impressive. ________________________________________________________ |
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-Sleazegrinder |