Easy Love, Part 1, Larkin Poe (from the Tricki-Woo Records release Bloom)
Rebecca and Megan Lovell continue to fortify their position as leading lights for modern blues-based rock. Their latest album is another glorious celebration of rock and roll, one led by Rebecca’s electric guitar and Megan’s steel guitar.
Opener “Mockingbird” may start with a modest restraint, but the sisters’ guitars quickly kick the song into gear. They follow with “Easy Love, Pt. 1”, a love song that will rip your face off. Rebecca’s power chords blend with Megan’s slithery slide guitar to dazzling effect.
They offer a moment to catch one’s breath with “Little Bit”, a slower tempo song about celebrating what one has in the moment. “I’m gonna walk a little lighter, I won’t let nothing weigh me down,” Rebecca sings, “I know that I could climb higher and higher, but I’m rich right here right now.”
The respite doesn’t last long as they lead into the defiant “Bluephoria”. A simmering organ only fuels the fire as the sisters let their guitars wail. “Canary ain’t singing no more, been down before,” Rebecca declares, “Up is all I got to go, I said: up is all I got to go.”
“Nowhere Fast” is a similarly take-no-prisoners rocker. Rebecca makes the point emphatically, “We got just enough punk to play a little harder” as their guitars sing along.
“Easy Love, Pt. 2” is what passes for a Larkin Poe ballad, I suppose. Yes, the tempo is much slower but, true to form, the guitars make their presence known.
Bloom is Larkin Poe at their best—gritty, soulful, and full of raw energy. With blazing guitars and powerhouse vocals, the Lovell sisters prove once again that they’re a force to be reckoned with in modern rock.
Wrong End & Black Snake, Mojave Blues, Balto (from the self-released No Hard Feeling)
Music is a tough business. LA’s Balto, a rock band with tremendous energy and great songs, have been chasing the flame for several years. Alas, at the end of last year they surprise-released a new album and announced a hiatus.
They open the album with the epic “Big City”. A tale of love lost, the song opens with a restrained air. Singer-songwriter Dan Sheron, accompanied by just an electric guitar, describes packing his belongings into a cab and driving away from a soon-to-be former lover. The song pauses for a moment and then a pounding rhythm intensifies the song’s emotional punch. Sheron’s impassioned vocals and the band’s harmonies join, raising the intensity even higher. Electric guitars wail as he exclaims, “I’m never gonna see you again”.
The band’s formula is just as strong on “Novocaine”. The song is more relaxed but no less rocking as Sheron contrasts the numbing effect of the drug with a desire to “feel everything—love as a tidal wave, pain as a razor blade”.
The rock returns with a vengeance on “Black Snake, Mojave Blues”, a song originally released in 2018. They offer a freshly recorded version here, but one that is no less furious with its unrelenting rhythm and blistering guitars. The song rings out like a true Hollywood story of chasing a dream only to find frustration. Sheron ultimately declares, “I ran hard upon a promise, but I couldn’t make it last.”
That sentiment continues on “Wrong End”, a song that seemingly captures his feelings about the music business:
Bought into the legend of the secret chord
I used to have faith of a different sort
That’s me, in the present, on the back porch steps
Lighting the wrong end of a cigarette
His ultimate conclusion? “Another exercise in letting go, so I won’t believe in songs no more,” he sings as a string section closes out the song with majestic beauty.
If this is Balto’s swan song, they’re going out on an incredibly high note.
Take You With Me, Ian Fisher (from the self-released Go Gentle)
Ian Fisher faces death and mourning head-on with the striking Go Gentle. The album reflects on the loss of his mother, who passed away in 2023 after a 26-year battle with cancer. Opener “The Face of Losing” finds the singer staring into the depths of his grief:
Nobody can tell me how to feel, I know what is real for me
No nobody can tell me how to be in the face of losing
“In Her Hand” reflects on his last moments with his mother and the pain of having to leave her side. A musical backdrop heavy on bass guitar and percussion gives it a groove that blends pop and jazz yet the song’s sentiment is abundantly clear.
“Mother Please Forgive Me” and the closing “Box of Dust” are the album’s most emotional moments. “The belated love of a prodigal son isn’t worth its weight in song,” he sings in the former, “but it’s all I have to offer you now that you are gone”. The latter closes in stark fashion as Fisher reflects:
What stays when you go
A box of dust, a closet of clothes
And the touch of a soul
Yet, Go Gentle doesn’t wallow in its lyrical focus. “Independence Day” and “Take You With Me” are catchy and musically upbeat pop songs. Electric guitars and a cathartic closing chorus fuel “Independence Day”, which acknowledges his mother’s freedom from the disease that ravaged her. “Take You With Me” finds Fisher reflecting on a childhood friend who tragically passed away at the age of 17. Electric guitars jangle as Fisher sings about the importance of cherishing memories.
Go Gentle is a deeply personal yet universally resonant reflection on loss, balancing raw emotion with melodic beauty. Fisher crafts a powerful tribute to his mother, acknowledging pain but never succumbing to it. It’s not just an album about mourning—it’s about the way we carry those we’ve lost with us, in song and in spirit.
Take It Easy, Miss Tess (from the self-released Cher Reve)
One never knows what one will get with Miss Tess – and that’s a great thing. The Nashville artist is well-schooled in every nook and cranny of Americana and each new release finds her exploring a new corner of the genre. Her latest outing notably heads down to Louisiana with the Zydeco glory of “Take It Easy” and the Cajun throwdown “Ride That Train”. Elsewhere she serves up an old-school sound with the country ballad “Nobody Wins” and the 1950s sock hop vibe of “Lord, I Need Somebody Bad Tonight”. Throughout Cher Reve, Miss Tess demonstrates artful simplicity and restraint, paring down songs to their essence while showcasing her deep musical knowledge and intuition in a spirited and charming way.
Love Last, Wilder Woods (from the release Curiouso)
Nashville’s Wilder Woods is back with another fine collection of rock ‘n’ soul. Depending on the song, the ratio between rock and soul could be 60/40 one way or the other. Opener “Swimming in the Ocean”, for example, is heavier on the rock, while the following “Time On My Hands” (with guest vocalist Jim James) reaches into neo-soul territory.
At the heart of the album is a series of songs that focus on uncertainty. “Love Last”, with its urgent rhythm, recognizes that relationships aren’t easy while acknowledging that they can be worth preserving. “It’s a fact, gotta fight to make the love last,” he sings. Heavy percussion and angular guitars give “Where Do We Go From Here” a sense of anxiety as he repeats the question raised in the song’s title.
He lambasts the state of current politics and society on “Descendents”, with his unbridled vocals adding intensity as he proclaims, “I, I, I, I hope the world gets better for all your descendants”. And bonus points for a well-placed lyrical reference to the Stealers Wheel classic “Stuck in the Middle With You”. (“With clowns to the left of us, jokers to the right; Uncle Sam, we’re in the middle again”.)
He closes with “Wild Fire”, a stirring ballad that features guest vocals from Maggie Rose. It is a poignant final note for an album that balances grit with grace, delivering a dynamic journey that’s as soulful as it is compelling.
Sweet Summer Moon, Tristan Lake Leabu (from the self-released Bright Soul)
Some albums are meticulously planned, with carefully timed rollouts and months of buildup. Others take on a life of their own, shaped by unexpected circumstances. This album falls into the latter category—not hastily recorded, but rush-released as a means of support after the artist and his family were affected by the LA fires.
Bright Soul is a gem of a record, steeped in a 1970s classic rock aesthetic with a self-proclaimed deep-cut sensibility. It’s the kind of record that feels like discovering an old favorite for the first time—unpolished in just the right ways, rich with warmth, and driven by heartfelt songwriting.
It all begins with “Sweet Summer Moon,” an electric guitar-laden dreamscape dripping with a sense of longing. As the rhythm section kicks in, so do the classic rock vibes. Lake Leabu then stretches out with “Left Diamond Man”, which is wandering and airy in its chord progressions but delivered with taut musical precision.
He leans into the retro sound with “Desert Rain” and “Sea of Lights”. The former calls to mind the melancholy of CSNY, while the latter wouldn’t be out of place on a lost George Harrison album. Both have a breeziness that is warm and inviting.
Bright Soul finds beauty in hardship, proving that even in the face of loss, music can be a source of strength and connection.
Shouldn’t Be, Lilly Hiatt (from the Records release Forever)
Lilly Hiatt moves away from the acoustic guitars and cranks up the electric guitars on her latest release. At its most rocking moments, Forever plays like an Americana take on grunge. You’ll get no complaints from me.
There’s a restlessness that permeates the album. “Shouldn’t Be” is a prime example. Chugging guitars propel the song forward as Hiatt expresses her unease at being left alone. “I hate when you leave me on my own, I start spinning out,” she admits, “I shouldn’t be, shouldn’t be, shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Ghost Ship” finds Hiatt searching for a sense of place. “You’re not gonna see it when you’re diggin’ so hard,” she explains, “When you’re looking for something, ya gotta be quiet, let it come to where you are…”. That gives way to “Somewhere”, in which Hiatt expresses to a lover a desire to escape their current situation and go “somewhere we’ve never been, get lost with me”.
Later in the album Hiatt settles into some love songs that run the spectrum from punk (“Forever”) to pedal steel-infused country rock (“Man”).
“Thoughts,” the album closer, returns to the theme of restlessness in a more direct fashion, as Hiatt reflects, “I thought, I thought time was gonna stay in one place / But it’s not…” – a fitting conclusion to an album fueled by surging electric guitars. Forever is Hiatt at her most urgent and electric, relentlessly pushing forward on her musical journey.
That Much Further West, Lucero (from the Liberty & Lament release Lucero Unplugged)
Lucero has long been known for their electric guitars and barroom rhythms, but at the heart of it all, Ben Nichols’ songwriting has always been the real engine. Lucero Unplugged strips away the distortion and drive, leaving Nichols’ lyrics in sharp focus, supported only by piano and acoustic guitar. The result is a stunning 20-song collection that offers a fresh perspective on nearly 30 years of music.
It’s rewarding to hear these songs in a new light. Tracks like “That Much Further West” and “Sweet Little Thing” translate seamlessly to this format, with the latter somehow maintaining its swagger even in a stripped-down arrangement. Meanwhile, early songs like “Darby’s Song” and “Tell Me What It Takes” feel even starker than the original band versions, their emotional weight landing with greater clarity in this raw, unembellished setting.
The album’s instrumental balance shifts between piano-led and guitar-led moments, showcasing pianist Rick Steff as a crucial piece of Lucero’s evolving sound. Steff’s versatility—whether adding honky-tonk flair to “Diamond State Heartbreak” or a regal intensity to “Among the Ghosts”—cements his role as the band’s not-so-secret weapon.
Structurally, Lucero Unplugged plays like a well-curated setlist. It starts strong with a few rockers in their acoustic form, slows down for a stretch of ballads, and finishes with a pair of fan favorites that bring the whole journey full circle. It’s both a gift for longtime fans and an inviting entry point for newcomers—proof that even without amplifiers and a full-band roar, Lucero’s music still packs an undeniable punch.
Hard to Love, Horsebath (from the Records release Another Farewell)
Canada’s Horsebath channel The Band with their carefree debut album. Another Farewell features a mix of freewheeling rockers and subdued melancholy ballads, along with some relaxed mid-tempo fare.
They kick things off in fine fashion with the country groove of “Hard to Love” before stretching into the mysterious air of “In the Shade”. “Only in My Dreams” and “Really Did a Number on Me” have a fun vaudeville flair, while the ambling title track is ripe for a Western movie soundtrack, right down to the lonesome harmonica.
The group closes an already eclectic album in glorious style with “Turn My Lover Loose.” The song starts with a bluesy lick before erupting into a full-throttle rock and roll romp, channeling Carl Perkins with a dash of ? & the Mysterians’ garage energy. It’s a fitting finale—loose, lively, and effortlessly cool. Another Farewell may hint at goodbyes in name, but for Horsebath, it feels more like the start of something exciting.
So Long Carry On, Massy Ferguson (from the release You Can’t Tell Me I’m Not What I Used To Be)
Seattle’s Massy Ferguson clearly like the rock and roll. You Can’t Tell Me I’m Not What I Used To Be, their latest album, is as unassuming as it is authentic, wonderfully straddling the line between casual and determined.
Album opener “So Long Carry On,” with its carefree piano and rich harmonies, sets the tone with a relaxed groove reminiscent of The Band. The scruffy, garage-pop spirit of “When You’re Not Around” follows, keeping things loose and raw before giving way to the percussive ballad “You Were So High”.
The combination of a pulsing bass line and looped drum machine gives “Almost There” an intoxicating urgency while “Lights Get Low” starts with a strummed, Rick Springfield-style riff before exploding into a cathartic chorus.
The album closes on a quiet note with the captivating ballad “Lovely Lad,” where playful piano and rich cello create a winsome charm. Its delicate arrangement leaves a lingering, heartfelt impression.
With You Can’t Tell Me I’m Not What I Used To Be, Massy Ferguson delivers a record that feels effortless yet deeply felt, balancing grit and melody with ease. It’s the kind of album that feels like an old favorite from the first spin—warm, worn-in, and comfortably familiar.
I’m Really Old, Death By Unga Bunga (from the Jansen Records release Raw Muscular Power)
I look forward to every Death By Unga Bunga release, and they’ve yet to disappoint. This definitely isn’t Americana fare, but it doesn’t matter. The Norwegian group is all about catchy melodies delivered with electric guitar fury, pounding rhythms, and singer Sebastian Ulstad Olsen’s signature shouted vocals. Most songs clock in under three minutes – taut and to the point. They channel The Ramones on the furious “The Recipe” and “Camouflage” and unleash a harmonized twin-guitar solo reminiscent of Thin Lizzy on “Trembling.” And hooks don’t come much stronger—or hit harder—than on songs like “I’m Really Old” and “Starchild.”
This is rock and roll at its most unfiltered—loud, fast, and unapologetically fun. Death By Unga Bunga isn’t just keeping the spirit of classic punk and garage rock alive; they’re setting it ablaze.
About the author: Mild-mannered corporate executive by day, excitable Twangville denizen by night.