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When dealing with more or less declared promises of a musical genre, it's sacred that the expectations of every self-respecting listener are elevated to a sort of pact. Even more so when the genre in question is the renowned devil's music, not just rock'n'roll, but something more ancestral and remote like the realm of the twelve bars, the blues.
This time we have a product that will certainly spark debate, not only because the author in question was chosen by none other than mister Eric Clapton to share the stage with him at the infamous Crossroads Guitar Festival, but because in a full-length blender of thirteen tracks, our guy decided well to mix a handful of genres, just as many approaches, and an arsenal of stylistic directions capable of bewildering even the most savvy ear. After an opening with trumpet blasts that leaves one a bit puzzled and the sensation of holding something perhaps too polished, we let ourselves be dragged into listening to an opening on the edge of soul, where the only trait of pedigree on the lapel is a decisively fat and fuzzy guitar. A clean and educated voice navigates well on a rocking carpet and a bridge that brushes against an alluring falsetto. The album continues on the more traditionalist and mid-tempo notes of a cadenced and hypnotic "When my train pulls in," a whispered riff with openings that await nothing else but to launch a purebred solo that immediately makes us understand which territory we find ourselves in. Here we are dealing with a thoroughbred endowed with taste and touch, and immediately some of the doubts previously held begin to dissipate, sown in a territory of echoes and wah-wah capable of convincing even the most skeptical.
When it comes time for the title track, Gary Clark Jr. wisely decides to shuffle the deck again on a hip-hop reminiscent base, where the guitar that had enthralled us in the previous piece finds itself relegated to a supporting role. "Bright Lights," on the contrary, a piece already praised thanks to its presence in the author's previous LP, takes us back straight into a modern and urban blues, a guitar that seems to hiss, ready to show its claws and scratch us. The more confident singing, the determined bite. Another high-level solo that makes us understand definitively why the grandiose titles are dedicated to the young man from Austin, Texas, the new messiah entrusted with carrying the burden of rock in a world where, instead, one increasingly hears "rock is dead." The central part of the album slips away between a seasoned rock blues and some pieces where the tension wanes to make space for a couple of ballads that wink at market openings. A concern in the work of the Texan guitarist is surely the lack of an Ariadne's thread capable of instilling confusion and instability in the listener. Certainly, versatility can be a virtue, but such an eclectic album might also suggest the ill intentions of someone wishing to reach a wide and heterogeneous audience. The direction seems to resume with the ride "Third stone from the sun," where the sound returns to shores certainly more suited to Clark Jr.'s guitar and lets glimpses of limits and phrasing bordering on the psychedelic. "You Saved Me" once again throws into the mix the doubts declared above.. Where is he aiming?!? The answer is given by the last track of the CD, where a foot stomp begins, the sound of an acoustic slide, a filtered voice, and the sensation of being on the porch of a wooden house in the delta, among mosquitoes and the smell of the swamp.
Gary Clark Jr. has no idea what he will do next, but he knows well and also very much where he comes from. He knows his roots, knows the limit of tackling a repertoire probably already overused and also of having to face it in the shadow of uncomfortable comparisons with sacred monsters who preceded him in the decades. What is certain is that the talent is not lacking, in fact, it is overflowing. Almost too much, that too much that leads him to overdo it and want to put his hands in too many different pies. On his part, he is young and has already started a cult that sees him praised at his concerts, appreciated by his colleagues and hallowed by many reviewers' words. The album, in my modest opinion, is still neither fish nor fowl, but it presages a future that, if framed in a more genuine direction or genre, will see the musician sail towards the high levels anticipated. A gamble, but one of those bets that makes you dream and say.. "Come on, I can make a fortune out of this handful of dollars". High marks for sounds, production, and ideas.. What lacks for perfection is the unity of the message, the course marked from the beginning to the end of the work.
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