Cry Of Love
Diamonds & Debris

One of the most banal and sloppy covers you can imagine, a confused and poorly framed photo of a music instrument shop window with annoying reflections on the glass and bongos in the foreground, contrasts with the intriguing and polished approach to rock and blues music of this North Carolina quartet, unfortunately, here on their second and final recording effort (we are in 1997) before they definitively dispersed.

The primary architect of the quality of this album, as well as the previous and even better "Brother," is the leader of the group, guitarist Audley Freed, a musician whom I hold in high regard and undoubtedly include in my Top Forty of the instrument. Freed is not well known, not even his brief tenure with the Black Crowes (he plays on the album "Lions" and the live one with Jimmy Page) served him much, yet I remain consistently enchanted every time I listen to his superb touch, the confidence and clarity of ideas with which he handles the Fender Stratocaster, bringing out its best attributes in sound quality, rhythmic effectiveness, expression, and cleanliness.

Jimi Hendrix was certainly his stylistic starting point, but in terms of technique and precision (serving the feeling and "groove" of the pieces, as it should be), we are at the absolute top, at a dimension of excellence that is certainly not comparable in terms of pioneering and visionary qualities to the inspiring genius from Seattle, but still far from ordinary. Freed is one of those performers who seems to have all the time in the world to chisel every note he plays, even when he decides to hammer them out at blazing speed, giving each one a nuance, a voice, a reason. Listening to him is a physical pleasure, because he possesses the sublime virtue of timing, note selection, and touch. Furthermore, a significant portion of his work commitment is dedicated to crowded demonstration clinics, as only happens to the great contemporary masters of rock guitar with exhilarating skill and instrumental knowledge (Steve Morse, Guthrie Govan, Steve Vai...).

All this guitar virtuosity is dedicated, in these Cry Of Love tracks, to a rock blues that sporadically leans towards the southern style but remains dry and essential, very direct and devoid of overstructures, which might superficially seem conventional but whose chord progressions and melodic openings are not at all. These are certainly things that can be fully appreciated by those who enjoy following music with attention to detail, and the performance of the singer doesn't help the cause much... On this album, Robert Mason handles the microphone, a good craftsman with records much more rowdy with the Lynch Mob and currently with the Warrant: he's a talented vocalist, but a bit cold and didactic... the previous singer, Kelly Holland (recently passed away), of the debut album worked better. While we're at it, another good career among the musicians of this group was made by bassist Robert Kearns, who ended up with Lynyrd Skynyrd for a time right after this experience and is currently in Sheryl Crow's band.

The magic that flows from the fingers of the curly-haired Audley can be well perceived on this album by focusing on the second track "Hung Out To Dry," a blues ballad enhanced by the Hammond (who knows who's playing it) and then on the fourth track "Fire In The Dry Grass," a syncopated rock vaguely in AC/DC style even if more intricate and elegant, opened by an intro of archaic blues à la Robert Johnson. On "Georgia Pine" and also on "Sunday Morning Flood," it seems like being on a Robin Trower album: there's that wonderfully Hendrixian sound extracted from the middle pickup of the Fender and passed through tremolo and chorus... It's a pity for Mason's screeching and sleazy voice; here the great and lamented James Dewar (the late bassist of Trower) with his lush blues voice would have been perfect.

Last mention in closing for the final "Garden Of Memories," another dragged-out southern blues ballad with a magical riff, all thanks to Freed's mastery with the wah wah pedal: how a single note, with the right echo, the right production, and taken with the right heart, can ennoble an entire piece.