Some times there isn’t any point in reviewing an album. Like when the cover art describes the music to a “t”. Andre Williams, “The Black Godfather”, lays down what the perfect Blaxploitation soundtrack to a movie that doesn’t exist.

Hoods and Shades is the result, nine songs created by music roadmen led by THE music roadman. Making contributions are: renowned Grammy Award-winning producer Don Was on upright bass, Motown legend/Funk Brother Dennis Coffey on acoustic and electric guitars, Dirty Three drummer Jim White, Greasy Carlisi (Robert Gordon, Chris Spedding) and Jim Diamond (Dirtbombs) on electric bass, and longtime producer Matthew Smith (Nathaniel Mayer, Outrageous Cherry, Volebeats).

– official page

Hoods and Shades saunters like a millionaire pimp. The sounds are sexy and seductive, but it’s not sleazy like 1998′s over the top Silky. Andre’s not trying to pick up ladies in this album, he doesn’t need to, they’ll come to him. Hoods and Shades is the most attractive person in the room and it knows it. Andre Williams is at the peak of his 50+ year career. That’s a lot for a man who used to produce tracks with Ike Turner, wrote “Shake a Tail Feather”, was signed to Detroit’s Fortune Records in ’55… but I’m not his biographer. You can watch the recent documentary about the rise and fall of Andre Williams “Agile, Mobile, Hostile: A Year with Andre Williams” for free on Hulu or read more about him at Bloodshot Records page.

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The album is released to stores February 28th,PREORDER

Craig Finn at PJ's Lager House 2/8/12

“So what do you think about the A.L. Central this year?” the always boisterous (and die-hard Twins fan) Craig Finn chirped from the stage. “I think the Twins will be right there with you….in early May.” he joked. Tiger Stadium is long gone but Corktown was full of life on Wednesday for the 8th show of Finn’s first solo tour (supporting his new record Clear Heart, Full Eyes) at PJ’s Lager House.

Most of the crowd undoubtedly know Craig Finn as the animated maestro that has been fronting The Hold Steady for the last 8 years. He lives in Brooklyn these days, but his roots are in Minneapolis where he cut his teeth fronting Lifter Puller in the scene that rose up from the ashes of Twin-Cities legends The Replacements and Hüsker Dü. The influence of these bands is something he won’t hide from or apologize for, and his songwriting has always been part homage to them, part something new and modern – with some Springsteenish narratives and (with his solo material) a bit of good alt-country twang.

The guy knows how to work a room, how to connect with an audience. His animated, flailing arms and bulging eyes combined with his deadpan singing/preaching delivery aren’t unlike your friend on his 7th Jameson’s, vehemently explaining to you why later Aerosmith stands up to the early stuff. Except Craig Finn’s message is no bullshit. Weather he’s painting a picture of life as a broke musician living in a dump (Rented Room) or a well meaning friend moving in on a convict’s kid and girlfriend (Jeremiah’s Blues) It’s convincing and believable. You’ve been there. You know these people. They’re part of living a Midwestern existence – working, partying, going to shows (and ball games) and dealing with messed up lives and messed up friends.

Fans hoping to hear solo-renditions of Hold Steady classics might have left disappointed as he chose to avoid that catalog, instead focusing on material from the new record and some unreleased stuff. Some of the new songs wouldn’t be out of place on a Hold Steady record, however (like the Cheap-Tricky single Honolulu Blues) but others offer more space, with primal rhythms that are a bit of a departure.

The set at the Lager House consisted of deep, warm textures and tones provided mainly by the pedal-steel and Fender Jazzmaster of guitarist Ricky Ray Jackson and sparse percussion of drummer James Stevens. Rounding out the band (dubbed Some Guns) were guitarist Falcon Valdez and bassist Alex Livingston (Grand Champeen). Finn led the band and the audience on a journey through peaks and valleys. It was a rolling cadence of great up-tempo fun (New Friend Jesus) and droning, slower moods (Western Pier). It was a stroll through the scenes and characters from Craig Finn’s life and imagination in a well balanced, brilliantly executed night of entertainment.

Craig Finn & Some Guns at PJ's Lager House 2/8/12

Craig Finn’s Website

The Hold Steady

From the mining towns of 19th century Appalachia to the dimly-lit corner bars of Downriver Detroit come Rickett Pass – a 4-piece alcohol-fueled and slightly demented Bluegrass quartet. Led by the convincing grovely vocals and banjo strummin’ of Mason Damn Tinsley and the high-harmonies and mandolin of Joe Vega, Rickett Pass strum, yell, proclaim and complain their way through this DIY-CDR delivered from their merch-box to your hands in a brown paper lunch bag decorated with a black Sharpie.

There’s real flares of tradition here, but it’s the just-slightly cow-punk feel that sets this apart. At times they channel early Bad Livers, the grandfathers of bluegrass-punk, and at others they approach Steve Earle’s collaboration with the Del McCoury Band – The Mountain, but they keep it more raw and home-grown than both. The washtub bass thumps along as the Ricketts meander through 12 short tracks of heartache, defiance, cocaine and alcohol. They can pretty it up nicely when they want (“You’re Worth That Much”, ”One Way Road”), but they’re at their best when it gets dark and angry (“You Can’t Catch Me”, ”Troubles of my Own”).

This isn’t morning music and these aren’t songs for a sunny day. It’s iron stoves in shacks and ash trays in smoky bar-rooms. It’s missing teeth and chewing tobacco. It’s coming up a bit short when it’s time to pay your tab and waking up drunk with a long day at the factory ahead. It’s the hills of Kentucky shot into the arm of the once-vibrant Downriver Detroit music scene, providing a warm fix that’s been missing down there for years.

Photos "taken" by Ethan Milner

Live music has a way of re-contextualizing its performer.  An example that comes to mind is the “art-metal” outfit Kylesa, who so cunningly convince of their talent by way of excellent recorded production value.  See them once live, however, and marvel at your newfound respect for engineering and production.  Live performance is another beast entirely.

Thus I was apprehensive about what I should expect from a Cass McCombs live show.  McCombs has a strong output of recorded work, including the very complete album Catacombs.  His other records, however, tend to have a few standout tracks but a lot of imbalance, his most recent effort Humor Risk being a prime example.  Would he play a great set incorporating “the hits,” or deliver a recalcitrant one of only new material?  Could McCombs pull off that sneaky falsetto on “County Line?”  Would he play “I Went to the Hospital?”  Would the fireman’s ball in the Crofoot Ballroom spill over and turn the show into a bacchanalian feast of untold ecstasies? So many questions!

Luckily, seeing a show at Pontiac’s Pike Room is rarely a wasted trip, even if the bands aren’t so good.  Nearly every show I’ve seen at the Crofoot complex has sounded stellar, and this one was no exception.  

The title track from Jeremy Porter and the Tucos’ new release “Night on the Town” sounds like a throwback to the mid-90′s before bands like Puddle of Mudd ruined music. The song opens with a distorted guitar, soon followed by a snare setting the tempo, and then an ascending 3 note vocal melody.  Competent musicianship underlies the vocalizations of Jeremy Porter, whose style is somewhere between speaking and singing.  Porter has a limited range and the lyrics don’t fit comfortably in the first verse, but the chorus adds some momentum to the song, which is able to maintain its stability for the duration.

The second track, “Ain’t My House Anymore”, is the most unique cut on the album, but not overtly so.  There is a very good soloist seemingly improvising above the rhythm for most of the song, showing skillful playing and a timbre somewhere between guitar and banjo.  The concept behind the song is at the same time kitschy and clever: a man seemingly missing his house more than the family inside it.  The tone of the music is charming so it seems strangely suited to the subject matter.  It’s almost as if the character in the song happened to pass this house after a night of drinking, and vaguely remembered once living there.  He quips about having once been involved with the people inside, but doesn’t seem too broken up about it.

If “Ain’t My House Anymore” is about a man missing his house, then “Galveston” (the bonus third track) is about a man missing his town.  Porter shows a little more vocal range on this song, belting out a high note around 1:30.  Once again the lead guitar stands out above the other elements, reminiscent of some slower Eagles tune, and fades with the song.

As an album “Night on the Town” is more function than form.  Jeremy Porter and the Tucos aren’t breaking any new ground within their genre, but they’ll do if you’re looking for music to play as you clean, read, or just want a pleasant listening experience.

Reviewed by Jason Revoir