Blind Melon
For My Friends

"For My Friends." The title of this album by the resurrected Blind Melon speaks volumes. After Shannon Hoon's death in 1995, fans (myself included) thought the story of the boys in love with the Grateful Dead and jam rock was over. The singer from Indiana's voice was too unique, beautiful, and filled with suffering to be replaced. And the five musicians were too close-knit to consider bringing another singer into the group. Yet, 13 years after the beautiful "Soup," they called upon a certain Travis Warren for vocals and released this "For My Friends."

An important premise: Warren decided to leave the band soon after the album's release and a few concerts. This strengthens the impression you get listening to the album, which is that Blind Melon decided to get back behind the recording desk for... us! For the fans, for those who longed for a certain rock free from massive chords and devastating riffs. For those who found a breath of fresh air in this combo of the '90s, typical of jam bands. And perhaps they also did it for themselves, showing that together they can create a unique and unmistakable amalgam. They are having fun, in short.

And the songs are unexpectedly at a very high level. Even superior to the beautiful "Soup." The formula remains the same, with entwining sinuous guitars, great emphasis on melody, and a voice ready to explode in the choruses. In this, Warren is nothing more than a clone of Hoon. But that's not a disadvantage; rather, it's a necessity because only with a voice that has vibrant and unstable highs could they be Blind Melon. Listen to "With The Right Set Of Eyes" to believe it, where all the ingredients are present and well-mixed.

The acoustic side, another love of the group, is well dosed. "Wishing Well" is as expected, including a certain sadness between the lines, just like the title track that recalls some of Hoon's episodes that seem carefree and fun but actually hide an introspective and depressed side. Without hesitation, the blind melons continue on the path they left almost fifteen years ago, continuing to experiment with songs with wobbly verses and drum rhythm changes, as if they were in the recording studio with the red light permanently on and the producer doing continuous cut and paste. "Down on the Pharmacy" is an inexorable crescendo, dictated by the snare drum, reminiscent of "St. Andrew's Fall", while the emptiness and fullness of "Father Time" take you on a roller coaster, with a crystal-clear melody and guitars painting notes like in a picture. As usual, the pair Stevens-Thorn are inseparable and intertwine the six strings with ease and flair. In some parts, echoes of the Stones' "Beast Of Burden" can be heard. 

That said, it's not a tragedy that they are now looking for a singer again. Though difficult to find someone who reaches Shannon's heights, the band's approach will always ensure spontaneity and that lightness that made them famous.