Steve Hackett
Blues With a Feeling

I find the title of this album to be misleading. I would find the name “Blues Without Feeling” far more appropriate.

Of course, Steve Hackett is a great artist, even to me. He joined Genesis in a discreet manner, and after six years and six albums with them, he felt widely underappreciated and marginalized by composers bosses Tony Banks and Mike Rutherford; the same two who, a few years later, would place themselves in the hands of their companion Phil Collins—the best among them at achieving success and making money with music.

So, he left in 1977, and ever since, this guitarist has bombarded us with a rather sizeable collection of progressive works, occasionally peppered with diversified efforts, such as studies of classical guitar or episodic ventures into pop rock.

But this present digression into blues, released in 1994, seems to me the most lackluster initiative of his career. For some unpredictable reason, given his musician profile—but nonetheless praiseworthy—our Steve chose since childhood a second musical instrument for his life: the harmonica. A marvelous device, easy to plunk around on but difficult to play well—somewhat like the guitar itself.

And indeed, Hackett has mastered the technique of playing the harmonica quite well. The problem, however, is his approach to blues. The harmonica is perfect for this musical genre, which in turn is very easy to “plunk around” with, yet it is impossible to reach in a convincing form unless you possess its soul, its attitude, its feeling, precisely.

And Hackett has nothing of the bluesman. Not only when he applies himself on the harmonica, but also with his virtuosic guitar. He cannot create that kind of nuance, that atmosphere that is the essence of blues. No matter how much he tries to use the right chords, to “bend” notes as the technique teaches, he’s simply missing the breath, the warmth, the transport of the blues.

He is one of those accomplished musicians who nonetheless are not/were not plausible in a blues setting (most of whom, rightly so, have barely even tried…). Who comes to mind? Bob Fripp, Paul McCartney, Toni Iommi, Glenn Hughes, David Bowie, Van Halen… Hackett, on the other hand, tried with this album, but it must be flunked: it doesn’t excite, it doesn’t send out good vibes, it feels academic and cold—in a word, useless, or at the very least superfluous.

Hackett has developed many techniques on the guitar, but the most important one for blues, vibrato (with the fingers, not the whammy bar), he has not. And this carries over to his approach to the harmonica as well, again something mechanical, academic, didactic, superficial.

Blues is more than a genre—it’s a state of mind. Everyone is capable of approaching it—often it’s just three chords—but not everyone can reach it. Hackett included. This album, structured in six or seven original compositions by maestro Steve plus a handful of covers from some of the old American bluesmen (Freddie King, Walter Jacobs, Nick Gravenites…) just doesn’t work. Try it for yourself if you don’t believe me.

To cleanse my musical palate, I’m going to listen to Robin Trower, a Londoner like Hackett who, instead, swims admirably in the blues.