At the ripe old age of 20, Clarksdale, Mississippi guitar slinger Christone "Kingfish" Ingram has been anointed "the next explosion of the blues," by no less than Buddy Guy. The proclamation is accurate. Ingram is young, but he's spent most of life pursuing the blues across the Delta and Chicago traditions, with nods at '70s hard rock and soul along the way. First exposed to blues via gospel in church, Ingram has been playing guitar since he was ten; he first stepped on a stage to play at the age of 11, at Clarksdale's famous Ground Zero Club, as part of Mississippi blues icon Bill "Howl-N-Madd" Perry's band -- Perry is Ingram's mentor. Before he was 18, Ingram had already toured the U.S. and six other countries, performed at the White House, and made appearances in the Marvel series Nick Cage. His musical influences range from Robert Johnson -- who supposedly made his deal with the devil not far from Ingram's home at the intersection of Highways 61 and 49 -- to Muddy Waters, Guy, and even Prince (he offers a hell of a cover of "Purple Rain" live). Kingfish was recorded in Nashville for Alligator Records and produced by Grammy-winning songwriter, bluesman, country singer, and drummer Tom Hambridge, who co-wrote most of these 12 songs with the guitarist. Opener "Outside of This Town," reveals the influence of ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons with its meaty, angular fills and pulled strings. It's followed by the slow-burning ballad "Fresh Out," on which Ingram trades solos with his hero Guy. Ingram can deliver an acoustic ballad like a master, too: check "Been Here Before" and "Hard Times" with Keb Mo' on acoustic resonator guitar (he appears throughout the record) offering balance, nuance, and restless country-soul. The slow burn of "Love Ain't My Favorite Word" calls forth the influence of Guy's '80s period with its biting, sharp notes and unexpected fills between sung lines and aggressive solo flourishes during turnarounds. "Before I'm Old" shines a light on Guitar Slim before the scorching lead break. "Listen" is a country-blues with a gorgeous vocal from Ingram. "Trouble," on the other hand, is drenched in the New Orleans R&B lineage à la Professor Longhair, and dragged into the present via an intense, rolling melodicism in Ingram's singing and soloing. The funky shuffle and snare breaks in "Believe These Blues" add a hefty yet slow-burning menace to the otherwise nocturnal shuffle. "Hard Times" with Keb Mo' is a slow-burn acoustic shuffle steeped in the Delta mud, while closer "That's Fine by Me" is a sweet, sultry, and soulful nocturnal blues with edgy fills reminiscent of early B.B. King, yet firmly grounded in this historical moment. The bottom line is that Ingram arrives fully formed as an already authoritative presence on Kingfish, all revved up and ready to. This is as promising as a debut album gets. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

The electric blues guitar boss -- only in his early twenties at the time of this release -- Christone "Kingfish" Ingram brought his tight quartet to London's Garage on June 6, 2023, for a standing-room-only crowd. Live in London, the guitar slinger's third album for Alligator, appeared just three months later. It's a beautifully recorded, incendiary gig captured in the moment. The 17-track program is equally split between selections from his first two albums: 2019's Kingfish and 2021's 662, plus new tunes and a cover.Kingfish leaves plenty of room for spontaneity live. Set opener "She Calls Me Kingfish" is introduced by DeShawn Alexander's reverbed, floating Rhodes piano that's replaced by a Hammond B-3 organ before Paul Rogers' bumping bassline and Chris Black's drum kit establish a funky shuffle. Ingram's playing crisscrosses jazz, prog rock, soul, and blues before it's time to solo. In contrast, his biting Stratocaster delivers a strolling break that melds the phrasing of B.B. King and Jimmy Johnson with an innate, deeply personal lyricism. Over seven minutes, its dynamic and intensity shift several times, drawing the enthusiastic crowd in. "Fresh Out" is even longer, a slow, wrangling, Chicago blues, it offers locked-on group interplay even during the solos by Ingram and Alexander. The tempo remains relatively laid-back through the poignant soul blues of "Another Life Goes By." (Interestingly, one can hear the influence of Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson in the melody and lyric.) Michael "Iron Man" Burks' "Empty Promises" is Hendrixian in invention, drama, and tension. Its loss-laden lyric is underscored by the B-3 and sets a perfect frame for Ingram's arrestingly soulful singing on top. The nasty, gritty "Hard Times" is a keyboard and rhythm collision that Ingram elevates with his hip vocals and distorted wah-wah soloing. "Mississippi Night" is a previously unissued scorching ten-minute instrumental that puts all of Ingram's considerable improvising skills on display. The middle section offers two solo acoustic Delta jams. "Been Here Before" is an autobiography and tribute to his grandmother with canny fingerpickinging and percussive strumming. The other -- "Something in the Dirt" -- is also a testifying autobiography of person and place set to a celebratory I-IV-V shuffle with killer turnarounds. The second half commences with the swaying blue soul of "You're Already Gone," driven by B-3 as Ingram testifies with conviction in his vocal. His solo adds depth, dimension, and power. While "Rock 'n' Roll" remains a deeply moving tribute to his late mother complete with gospel overtones, "Not Gonna Lie" combines blues, funk, and rootsy rock in a personal manifesto. "Midnight Heat," another new song, is snarling and potent, as Ingram's lyric offers intimacy to a lover with a loose groove that crisscrosses electric Southern blues and Meters-esque R&B. Closer "662" is bursting with the uptempo dancehall Texas groove of Albert King, the Vaughan Brothers, and the Fabulous Thunderbirds. Live in London provides more evidence that Ingram is a force to be reckoned with: Not only can he play like the legends, but he's an original vocalist, a solid songwriter, and a disciplined bandleader.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Songwriter Nathaniel Rateliff established himself as a critically celebrated folksy Americana singer/songwriter on 2010's In Memory of Loss, his Rounder Records debut. Though he played in straight-ahead rock & roll bands before then, his independent releases since have been of intimate, poignant, and pensive songs. Until now. This self-titled offering on Stax is a hard-swinging, house-rocking affair that draws heavily on vintage R&B, soul, and proto rock & roll. Though Rateliff has displayed emotion in his vocals since the beginning, even fans have never heard him like this. Influences from Sam & Dave to Van Morrison to Sam Cooke range freely on this set -- and he has the voice to pull it off. The sessions were helmed by producer Richard Swift, who captured Rateliff and his large band -- complete with a swaggering horn section (and occasionally subtle strings) -- with just enough reverb to make it sound live. "I've Been Falling," with its upright piano and handclaps, delves deep into vintage Morrison territory without really emulating him (though Rateliff comes closer on the album's last track, "Mellow Out"). The raw soul passion in "Trying So Hard Not to Know" evokes the historic Stax ethos perfectly, while sidling up to the Band's Big Pink era. "S.O.B." has verses saturated in Southern gospel, with foot stomping and handclaps as the only accompaniment, before the entire band erupts in a carousing chorus. This reverses gospel's usual Saturday-night-to-Sunday-morning course; it is one of the rowdiest broken-heart songs you'll ever hear. "I'd Be Waiting" is a tender, wide-open love song with a late-night jazzy soul feel. The singer's voice is haunted equally by the spirits of Cooke and Bobby "Blue" Bland. If this album has a weakness -- and it does -- it's that Rateliff's use of these forms and styles in his writing is not only basic -- which is fine -- but overly formulaic. Only the pedal steel-driven Americana in the absolutely lovely "Wasting Time" -- which recalls the Gregg Allman of Laid Back -- deviates; one or two more songs in this vein (especially with this band) would have made all the difference. That's a small complaint, one that will deter few. Rateliff's world-weary, deeply expressive tenor and lyrics place him on a different level than any of the current crew of revivalists.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Back in 2017, the Cadillac Three cranked up the amplifiers and stole a thing or two from ZZ Top, creating a ruckus that could properly be tagged as "country fuzz." That's the name they give their full-bodied roar in 2020, and Country Fuzz does indeed serves as a pretty, pretty good description of the sound of the Cadillac Three: they're good old boys who play loud music, splitting the difference between redneck raunch and old-time rock & roll. The ironic thing about Country Fuzz is that it's decidedly livelier and wilder than its predecessor Legacy, finding the Cadillac Three happily embracing all manners of party music. The shift is evident from the moment the greasy boogie "Bar Round Here" slides into "The Jam" and its syncopated disco thump. "The Jam" isn't the only time the Cadillac Three turn on the glitter ball: "All the Makin's of a Saturday Night" is even gaudier, and the trio channel this glitz into their slower numbers, including the simmering pop of "Labels" and the closing ballad "Long After Last Call." The Cadillac Three aren't abandoning loud guitars -- the sludgy "Slow Rollin'" may be the heaviest thing they've ever cut -- but are flexing their muscles and, in the process, they free themselves from the notion that they're just Southern rock throwbacks. By adding these new sounds, the Cadillac Three seem younger and savvier, playing country-fried rock & roll for every imaginable creed, knowing that the best parties are the ones where everybody is invited.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Songwriter Nathaniel Rateliff established himself as a critically celebrated folksy Americana singer/songwriter on 2010's In Memory of Loss, his Rounder Records debut. Though he played in straight-ahead rock & roll bands before then, his independent releases since have been of intimate, poignant, and pensive songs. Until now. This self-titled offering on Stax is a hard-swinging, house-rocking affair that draws heavily on vintage R&B, soul, and proto rock & roll. Though Rateliff has displayed emotion in his vocals since the beginning, even fans have never heard him like this. Influences from Sam & Dave to Van Morrison to Sam Cooke range freely on this set -- and he has the voice to pull it off. The sessions were helmed by producer Richard Swift, who captured Rateliff and his large band -- complete with a swaggering horn section (and occasionally subtle strings) -- with just enough reverb to make it sound live. "I've Been Falling," with its upright piano and handclaps, delves deep into vintage Morrison territory without really emulating him (though Rateliff comes closer on the album's last track, "Mellow Out"). The raw soul passion in "Trying So Hard Not to Know" evokes the historic Stax ethos perfectly, while sidling up to the Band's Big Pink era. "S.O.B." has verses saturated in Southern gospel, with foot stomping and handclaps as the only accompaniment, before the entire band erupts in a carousing chorus. This reverses gospel's usual Saturday-night-to-Sunday-morning course; it is one of the rowdiest broken-heart songs you'll ever hear. "I'd Be Waiting" is a tender, wide-open love song with a late-night jazzy soul feel. The singer's voice is haunted equally by the spirits of Cooke and Bobby "Blue" Bland. If this album has a weakness -- and it does -- it's that Rateliff's use of these forms and styles in his writing is not only basic -- which is fine -- but overly formulaic. Only the pedal steel-driven Americana in the absolutely lovely "Wasting Time" -- which recalls the Gregg Allman of Laid Back -- deviates; one or two more songs in this vein (especially with this band) would have made all the difference. That's a small complaint, one that will deter few. Rateliff's world-weary, deeply expressive tenor and lyrics place him on a different level than any of the current crew of revivalists.© Thom Jurek /TiVo

Songwriter Nathaniel Rateliff established himself as a critically celebrated folksy Americana singer/songwriter on 2010's In Memory of Loss, his Rounder Records debut. Though he played in straight-ahead rock & roll bands before then, his independent releases since have been of intimate, poignant, and pensive songs. Until now. This self-titled offering on Stax is a hard-swinging, house-rocking affair that draws heavily on vintage R&B, soul, and proto rock & roll. Though Rateliff has displayed emotion in his vocals since the beginning, even fans have never heard him like this. Influences from Sam & Dave to Van Morrison to Sam Cooke range freely on this set -- and he has the voice to pull it off. The sessions were helmed by producer Richard Swift, who captured Rateliff and his large band -- complete with a swaggering horn section (and occasionally subtle strings) -- with just enough reverb to make it sound live. "I've Been Falling," with its upright piano and handclaps, delves deep into vintage Morrison territory without really emulating him (though Rateliff comes closer on the album's last track, "Mellow Out"). The raw soul passion in "Trying So Hard Not to Know" evokes the historic Stax ethos perfectly, while sidling up to the Band's Big Pink era. "S.O.B." has verses saturated in Southern gospel, with foot stomping and handclaps as the only accompaniment, before the entire band erupts in a carousing chorus. This reverses gospel's usual Saturday-night-to-Sunday-morning course; it is one of the rowdiest broken-heart songs you'll ever hear. "I'd Be Waiting" is a tender, wide-open love song with a late-night jazzy soul feel. The singer's voice is haunted equally by the spirits of Cooke and Bobby "Blue" Bland. If this album has a weakness -- and it does -- it's that Rateliff's use of these forms and styles in his writing is not only basic -- which is fine -- but overly formulaic. Only the pedal steel-driven Americana in the absolutely lovely "Wasting Time" -- which recalls the Gregg Allman of Laid Back -- deviates; one or two more songs in this vein (especially with this band) would have made all the difference. That's a small complaint, one that will deter few. Rateliff's world-weary, deeply expressive tenor and lyrics place him on a different level than any of the current crew of revivalists. © Thom Jurek /TiVo

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