Gary Moore
After Hours

A beautiful image of Moore taken from the ceiling, while in the studio holding his favorite guitar—the Gibson Les Paul Standard that once belonged to his idol Peter Green—introduces the second release from the Northern Irish guitarist after his musical “turning point.”

Baptized a couple of years before (1990) with an album aptly titled “Still Got the Blues,” this aforementioned turning point saw the musician stop competing with the likes of Van Halen, Sambora (Bon Jovi), George Linch (Dokken) and so forth.

This new inspiration led him to leap back at least twenty years, returning to his childhood heroes, that is, the great black bluesmen of the fifties and sixties, and in parallel, to the pioneers of British Blues from the late sixties and early seventies.

Compared to all that fine company (from Albert King to Steve Ray Vaughan, let’s say), Gary had a couple of distinctly personal traits, which indeed placed him at the top among them, to the point that I prefer him over all the inspired second-generation bluesmen.

The first virtue was his energy, equal to or even surpassing that of Steve Ray. It allowed him to dominate the six strings, bend them to the limit, “work” them with those thick fingers of his, so big they completely concealed the frets they were pressing on. It’s wonderful to hear him grab one of the high strings after having ruthlessly strummed—huge pick stroke—all the other strings above, creating a thunderous attack. And then there’s his untamed string bending, perfectly in tune, with total technical control even at the height of emotional intensity during his performance.

The other peculiar gift was the Irish tradition that permeated his inspiration, giving it a unique and unmistakable charm—that flavor of lush green grass and ever-racing clouds in the sky, something only those who have been to the Emerald Isle can truly picture.

The muscular, fiery blues strung together on this album are occasionally interspersed with variations on the theme, represented by intense rhythm & blues ballads like “Separate Ways,” utterly bluesy slow numbers like the Duster Bennett cover “Jumpin’ at Shadows,” and the homegrown “Nothing’s the Same,” placed at the end of the record.

On the endless digital disc I own, there are also five bonus tracks, among which stand out the unfading “Woke Up This Morning” by B.B. King (who appears on the album, as does Albert Collins), and a nocturnal, priceless instrumental session called “Once in a Blue Mood.”

Indescribable talent, a powerful blues poet with a devastating sound, a generous and tormented soul, Moore left us far too soon, in 2011, due to a reckless and uncontrolled life. But his fiery guitar and emotional voice have fortunately been immortalized across dozens of his records. Anyone wishing to approach a troubled yet sincere soul, contained within a true blues beast of staggering strength, has a fine lineup of works at their disposal, including this one.