Rory Gallagher
Deuce

THE REVIEW

NB: I thank Ali76 who, with a delightful review, introduced me to this artist.

Every music genre has its own purpose, but depending on each individual's sensitivity, the sensations experienced can vary radically. Just as rock‘n’roll is music for the body, for dancing, and metal is music that touches (or should touch) the listener's instinct, ambient is music for the mind, and there are countless other examples. In its original sense, blues is the manifestation of discomfort, of a subtle unhappiness, without this music becoming merely consolatory. This genre is, for the writer, one of the most touching expressions of interiority transformed into sound, based on immediate and familiar structures, intensely warm. For some, it goes straight to the soul; for others, it appears little more than a series of standard and unremarkable chords.

Rory Gallagher, in his devotion to the old word with the wonders of modern amplification, was perhaps the greatest blues-rock musician of all time, far from the pop(ulist) gossip and banal advertising slogans. No one ever wrote "Gallagher is God" on some wall, and no one ever saw the Irish musician on Top Of The Pops to reclaim an old forgotten name. Until the end of his days, this character remained true to himself and his passion: recycling himself, creating albums that smell of old (or, at best, vintage)? Maybe. "Irish Tour" is the quintessential live album, but much of the studio albums are not up to it, it's true. Nevertheless, Gallagher, in all his trials, always offers something worth talking about.

In 1971, the Irishman completed recording this "Deuce," with much of the recording done live: the "legend" has it that this album was composed and recorded in various sessions between '70 and '71, after performances and often in the dead of night. The music, while remaining firmly and intensely blues, allows for various deviations into a more vigorous rock as well as moments that vary from folk (both Anglo-Saxon and American) to jazz-rock. The tracklist in its entirety, from "Used To Be," "I'm Not Awake Yet" to the splendid "In Your Town," offers dozens of precious and pulsating minutes of true energy, a warmth that only a few others have touched, if only briefly.

Like Johnny Winter on the American front, there is a clear union between respect for the classics and new rock influences (see the seminal insights of Hendrix and Cream), in a perfect combination that never feels too daunting or, on the other hand, too simplistic. In the future, the blues scene, both British and American, will easily slip into chart-topping rough rock (shortly before the triumph of glam-rooted exteriority).

Predictably, the production of this album appears somewhat unpolished, but it does not represent a significant flaw, considering the almost "improvised" nature of the work, just as the (few) imperfections noted in the vocal parts and guitar rants are of little importance. Splendidly and exquisitely imperfect.