The Immortal Lee County Killers
The Essential Fucked Up Blues

THE REVIEW

"Punk and blues are both honest reactions to life. It's blues, it's our blues. It's just a bit turned up and a bit faster."

“Punk and Blues are both sincere reactions to life. It’s blues, our blues. It’s just a bit faster and with a louder volume”

Struck on the path of “Fire of Love”, raised by a mother who made him fall asleep with headphones blasting the roar of “Preachin’ Blues”, Chet Weise must have decided that such an arousing sound as the one created by Jeffrey Lee Pierce could not remain confined to that handful of tracks. A new electric preacher was needed to awaken dormant consciences. And he decided to sacrifice himself, to be reborn. To become immortal. If only we all had mothers like that.

“Let’s Get Killed” opens the dance. Blood vessels constrict and the blood flow is redirected from the brain, a useless trouble-causing organ, to the much more useful reproductive organs. The voice is dirty and the guitars actually hurt, but who cares? Now it is finally clear: your destiny is to end up killed and sent to hell on Judgment Day, along with all those shitty records they sold you as must-haves and which you, like damned fools, bought on pre-order from Amazon.

Try to imagine what would have happened if Robert Johnson, after gulping down that half-liter of whiskey laced with strychnine, hadn’t died but started to violate his guitar beyond all human decency in the throes of the delirium and convulsions of poisoning. Now you’re getting close.

A guitar, a drum, a raucous voice. They could have been the White Stripes, but they had better things to do than pose for covers dressed up in ridiculous red and white outfits. Because these guys have true rage, and they don’t care much if Muddy Waters’ rotting corpse twists among the worms while they revisit his “Rollin’ Stone” in a version over 9 minutes long rearranged for guitar and machine gun.

Want a track-by-track? Screw you.

Delta orphans, let’s bring it all back home.