Canned Heat
Live At Topanga Corral

THE REVIEW

I was depressed, terribly depressed, tired of the life in the Lucchese province where the only interests of the people are football, political faith, and insulting opponents in both disciplines. I was undecided whether to disappear into the gray smog or blow everything up just to show people how futile what they do is, and while I was sitting alone on a bench imagining these delightful scenarios, I received a message that informed me that my girlfriend had left me.

That evening, I drowned my anger with a couple of disgusting beers, drunk violently, just for the sake of getting drunk and saying to hell with everything. Then the bartender put on a really graceful and simple blues record, without all those frills and special effects that populate modern music... I asked her who these guys were, while thinking to myself of names like BB King or Muddy Waters, and she answered that they were the Canned Heat. Wow, these guys play the notes so beautifully... I enjoyed the CD until it was interrupted by a band that had to play, six very sad forty-year-olds doing a tribute to Vasco Rossi, with the most pathetic singer ever to take the stage. They were thoroughly convinced they were putting on a fabulous show and were putting horrible passion into it, convinced they were in a stadium with a delirious crowd when in fact they were in a deserted bar with 20 people minding their own business. What a pity those idiots were, I left and all night I kept thinking about Canned Heat so I decided to buy any of their records.

The next day, I went to the most alternative record store in Viareggio because searches in other places had yielded negative results, and while rummaging through the special offer vinyl, I found this "Live At Topanga Corral" which I snatched for 5 euros. I was happy and satisfied like a kid after a wank and went home joyful. I put the record on the turntable and enjoyed half an hour of great blues. There are no Clapton or Bloomfield who can compete: Canned Heat is the best white blues band that ever existed, they are all soul and little technique. In the grooves, you can feel the true passion for music and the pleasure of playing it; the solos don’t tire you, they are not pretentious, technical, and self-congratulatory like ninety percent of the solos in this genre. They give the impression of being perfectly genuine; they just play, without pretense, without proving anything to anyone, just play beautifully.