Your humble scribe is 30 years younger than Robin Trower, who is now 81, and, to be honest, going to work every day is getting on my nerves. Quite how the man himself has managed such a late-period blossoming of his career is really quite something.
Eight studio albums in the last decade, with collaborations alongside the likes of Maxi Priest and Sari Schorr in his recent history, suggest that retirement isn’t particularly high on the agenda. But with Trower, it’s about more than simply keeping busy. There is a pure mastery here. There is craft. And there is the sense that he still has things he needs to say.
You can hear it immediately on the opener, “The Missing Piece”. That unmistakable way of playing is right there: the phrasing, the tone, the feeling that no one else could quite make those notes sound like that. Then there’s the incredibly bouncy bass on the title track, which he also plays. The guitar understandably gets the attention, but the way that low end moves is a joy in itself.
Self-producing and handling both instruments, Trower leaves drummer Chris Taggart and long-standing vocalist Richard Watts to flesh out his ideas. It is a combination that understands exactly what these songs need.
“Love By Any Other Name” changes the vibe completely. When Watts sings, “No words I can trust”, the heartbreak comes through, and the guitar seems to understand every bit of it. These are not solos pasted onto songs for the sake of having them. They are part of the conversation.
“Live Your Time”, quite frankly, makes the point that no one plays guitar quite like Robin Trower. “Faith” is so expressive and so warm, yet simultaneously so sad and longing for love. That ability to convey apparently contradictory emotions is perhaps what separates the very best from everybody else.
“Driving On Through” is funky and soulful, and those scars are all on show here. Not just in the lyrics, either, but in the way he plays. On “Truth”, Watts’ vocal changes the feel again. Trower says he writes with Richard’s voice in mind, hearing him sing the songs in his head, and you can understand why. There’s an instinctive fit between the voice and the guitar.
“The Race” has an absolute class to it, while “Without You” leaves you wondering whether the thing that makes the most complete sense to Trower is simply the guitar in his hands. Whatever the song is searching for, his playing seems to know where to look.
“It’s Not Time” is an absolutely gorgeous ballad, and finally he allows himself the chance to cut loose with the solo at the end. It is a glorious way to finish.
Asked to explain that late-career burst, Trower puts it simply: “I think you’ve either got to keep pushing – or give up.” There is an element of that, of course. What else is he supposed to do?
But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe the guitar is Robin Trower’s missing piece, maybe even peace?. Whatever it makes him shine.
Rating: 8/10
