Robin Trower
Bridge Of Sighs

THE REVIEW

James "Jimmy" Dewar (born in Glasgow in 1942, died in the same city in 2002) is a musician quite well-known in rock circles but not really famous. It happens when you have a special talent but an ordinary face and a shy and humble character, when you possess an incredible voice but no penchant for showmanship and extroversion, on stage as with the media. For rock blues insiders and enthusiasts, however, Dewar is, without distinction, one of the greatest.

Jimmy started in the sixties as a guitarist, switching to bass and singing almost out of necessity: with a gregarious and non-competitive nature, he began to be noticed behind the microphone only when he had to temporarily replace the band's singer who occasionally dropped out. Trower had a great intuition not to bet on a professional frontman to entrust the bassist with all the vocal duties in the new band he put together to relaunch his career in a new setting, that of guitar rock, after all those years reluctantly accompanying the omnipresent, admirable but invasive keyboards of Procol Harum.

This is the album of redemption for the London guitarist: after a first release in 1973, equally valid but with little buzz and minimal success, this work of the following year inexplicably takes a different path from the start and even breaks through in America, where, for example, Procol Harum had not managed to achieve anything with six albums. The trio Robin Trower, completed by the black drummer Reg Isidore, became one of the most requested and followed acts around the world, filling, better than all similar epigones, that craving for instinctive and spirited Hendrixian rock blues generated by the untimely demise of the Seattle genius.

But if Trower is the leader, the inspirer and the beacon of the situation, Dewar is the invaluable added value for the fortunes of this band. The black masters Ray Charles and Otis Redding taught this, their umpteenth excellent student from the cold but passionate northern UK, how to let their soul fully resonate through two vocal cords, make it echo inside the nose, and modulate it in the oral cavity, finally revealing it in a rich, deep, sandy, lush, satisfying singing.

Without the slightest flourish or affectation, completely instinctively and naturally (but it obviously requires, apart from a great heart, attention and application) good Jimmy envelops the (otherwise very ordinary) lyrics of the repertoire with pathos as if they were Homeric passages. The texture of his voice is much like that of the far more famous, fortunate and, of course, seven years younger Paul Rodgers (Free, Bad Company, Queen), but... it's better! More sulfurous and penetrating, less fussy and complacent.

The classic repertoires contained in this work, which are still mandatory for Trower to perform in concerts lest the audience boo, are three. The first is the opener "Day Of The Eagle", presenting one of the most ingenious and driving riffs in rock (in C sharp!... an awkward key for the guitar). So beautiful that the band does a complete instrumental round, verse, and chorus before Jimmy breezes through the first verse on the microphone. Robin rages Hendrix-like with the firm and analytical timbre of the central magnet of his Fender Stratocaster, perfect for his style. The rhythm is obsessive and galloping, then the song veers into a final dilated slow tempo, fading with the last gasps of the lead guitar.

The second classic is the song that titles the record, a blues paced by a sublime guitar riff that has the slowness and relentless inescapability of a lava flow. Trower's fingers seek the nitpick on the fretboard, exploring high-caliber temporal microlags and microtonal vibratos. For him, touch is the absolute priority: no note should be taken in passing or consumed in a cushion shot to reach another... He wants to mount on each one, make it his own and mold it according to the mood of the moment. The song is made for Dewar's voice, deeper than ever as he "sighs" the lyrics, honoring the title ("Bridge of Sighs").

The third focal point in the setlist is the exhilarating "Too Rolling Stoned". The bass and guitar riffs, different from each other, intersect magnificently in a very happy rhythmic groove. The track rolls fast and dynamic for a few minutes, then undergoes a new, drastic slowdown carried forward by a brand-new riff and the usual instrumental coda.

"In this Place" is again a slow and sparse piece, this time in the (unusual for rock) three-four time signature. The guitar arpeggio is fertile, and the bass player's throat vibrations are ancestral, and so on... "Little Bit Of Sympathy" is instead funky and will also enjoy, over time, the esteem and trust of the guitarist who will play it a lot in concert.

This old master of the six strings, pioneer of sublime sounds and touches, has dealt with other singers throughout his long career that still proceeds (the legendary and moody Jack Bruce, then Dave Bronze, Davey Pattison...), but the inimitable voice of the Robin Trower Band remains the great Jimmy Dewar. These few lines are also, and above all, in his memory, and more generally in honor of all those greats who have never put on airs and still don't (entirely against the musical and artistic trend in general), but have done and still do a great deal of good to the people who know how to listen to them, to music lovers, to all those with their hearts connected first to their ears rather than to their eyes, as it should always be to truly define oneself as a music enthusiast.