Widespread Panic
Space Wrangler

Horrible cover for the debut, dated 1988, of this adorable Georgian band.

“Chilly Water”: they announce themselves, still in a quintet without a permanent keyboardist: “spatial” lead guitar, wandering (even too much); a voice full of experience and personality; who the hell is the bassist? A machine! “Travelin’ Light” is a minor ditty by J.J. Cale, covered in country funk. The song that titles the album is ambitious, two-part, very southern but with a western, soundtrack-like guitar, hypnotic, beautiful. “Coconut” is funky again.

“The Take Out” turns out to be an acoustic instrumental, with a guest violinist; beautiful chords, alternating a major theme with a minor one: it finally becomes clear that these gentlemen are not simple southern rockers. “Porch Song” still smells of Allman Brothers, all in countertime and with that percent of jazz. “Stop-Go” pulls a lot: I challenge, percussion galore and creative bass.

Also “Driving Song” owns two alternating themes each with different speed and rhythm; the lead guitar gets petulant again, as if it were the boss, but it also engages in a dialogue with the violin; they stop and restart so many times… up to eight and a half minutes, then the producer cuts the power. He turns it back on to let them play “Holden Oversoul,” a tight tempo in 2/4 and a lot of guitar again.

One enjoys like hedgehogs with “Contentment Blues”: imperial riff, booming, reverberating, very psychedelic; the blues of contentment for them and for those who listen. John Bell brays in his own way and begins to be loved; the best of the lot and the first masterpiece of their career, they will perform it live forever. “Gomero Blanco” is Ortiz's fleeting party, an older but highly skilled percussionist just added to the group. Only percussion and some guttural sounds as a backdrop, for just over a minute, just to introduce “Me and the Devil Blues/Heaven,” an orthodox, slow blues, with the drum imprinted on the wall, in intro and then for a good part of the track; the central part becomes mystical, the final one (“Heaven”) is a mid-tempo with a different why, no longer the blues from before.

The “Widespread Panic” are a band like no other, combining a blues singer with a psychedelic guitarist, a funky bassist with a Latin percussionist; all glued together by a rock drummer. At first, they are indefinable, so multifaceted, clean, and efficient, with the natural rhythm inside as only American musicians can have and, on top of that, melodic paths all their own. In this, they will enormously improve, but immediately, precise peculiarities emerge: John Bell's intense voice, the hypnotic loops of the late Michael Hauser's guitar, David “fat nice guy” Schools' pulsating and highly competent bass.

I adore them unconditionally and will proceed to review a good part of their repertoire. Salud.