Mick Sterling, Between Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

Nice guitar…um…but, yeah. Indeed, there’s slide guitars and upbeat drums, and a voice that sings rough and ready. This is very Fabulous Thunderbirds-y; bluesy, rocky, and gritty and yet still, perfectly lacking something.

But you already know this; you’ve heard this music tumbling out of blues clubs and barrooms where weekend warriors congregate hoping to catch something “real” but keep their distance safe. While the music is felt and lived and passed by, graciously.

I went through this record knowing Mr. Sterling’s intent, or at least thinking I knew the intent. I’m familiar with the rootsy, even Springsteen-like roughness of his voice. The wailing blues harps, the riverbanks, the empty glasses, the lonely streets; we all know them to some degree or another, but this album’s not enticing me to go any further.

Granted, there’s an execution and style here that doesn’t pretend to be anything but honest. And for an artist to be honest is much appreciated. So if simple, honest music that holds no pretense is your cup of blues, then drink up.