The Gun Club
Miami

THE REVIEW

You may say: but there is already a review from two years ago! Who cares! I won't allow anyone else to "claim rights" over what I consider the most precious vinyl in my discography, with that cover steeped in a strange acid green apocalyptic light, the hand holding a necklace with a cross that stands out in front of the Miami palms.

Jeffrey Lee Pierce, the classic American loser, with that voice too big for his small stature, with a heart too weak to withstand a life of abuse and hardship (he won't even have the money to pay for medical care).

As a boy, he discovers the blues, Howlin’ Wolf, and follows the great Mississippi river: Robert Johnson and Charlie Patton. He moves to Los Angeles and is struck on the road to Damascus: the city's vibrant punk scene dangerously mixes with his musical background, creating that strange blend of blues played outrageously fast, made surreal by our hero's feline voice (someone said born from a sexy menage between Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and Jim Morrison) and Ward Dotson's slide. In '81 "Fire of Love" is born with the anthems "She's Like Heroin to Me", "Sexbeat", and even the punk version at a mad speed of "Preachin the Blues" by Robert Johnson!

The year after this wild and instinctive record, costing just $2000, a different, less aggressive, and more mature project is born: "Miami". There is less blues, the speed slows down, the voice becomes even more captivating, feline, fluted like that of a strange tropical bird hidden in the lush and unhealthy swamps invaded by crocodiles of this part of Florida.

A ballad with a hint of country like "Carry Home" opens the album; Jeffrey unfurls his lugubrious singing that gets lost in the starry night: "I've come back/ through a thousand highways/ and so many tears". The other instruments wait for his chant to finish, to create a soundscape for him with the slide accompanying the unfolding voice... damn! This man calms you down and gives you chills at the same time.
Still a pseudocountry start for "Like Calling Up Thunder" and then the pogo starts: "I'm calling the thunder/ with hands to the sky" invokes Jeffrey, who in the next "Brother and Sister" sends shivers again with the deep tone of his voice evoking the skeletons of his sins hidden in the trees of the dark night.

The cover of "Run Through the Jungle" by Creedence (another old love of Jeffrey) has lyrics different from the original, and Ward Dotson's guitar goes wild here: "play the guitar, move!" urges Jeffrey. In tracks like "Devil in the Woods", "Bad Indian", and "Sleeping in the Blood City", he revitalizes the fresh myth of the hyper-fast tracks from the first album, while other compositions like "Texas Serenade" are electric ballads or even steeped in wild country like the grim story of "John Hardy", a railway worker hanged for the murder of a man.

The closing "Mother Heart" is pure country & western veiled with melancholy from the slide's plunges: "Mother Earth the wind is warm/ I tried my best/ but I failed"

An epochal album.