A lot can happen in five years. I mean, nothing has happened since April 2019, has it? Been a really quiet period for the world.
It was in the spring of that year that Shotgun Sawyer released album number two.
Since then, Dylan Jarman, singer and guitarist with the band for a decade or so has been on something of a journey.
He fell out with original drummer David Lee, lost “much” as he puts it, of his faith, became a teacher, and crucially got diagnosed with ADHD and began realising what he had been doing all these years.
So, he got the band back together – kind of. Cody Tarbell of Slow Season took over on the kit, and the trio began crafting what was to become the third album.
“Cock N Bull” is typical. Not only is there no silver lining (“There ain’t no such thing as a glass half full” he yells) blues doesn’t get much nastier or scarier than this right here.
Brian Souders guest spot on harmonica is perfect and if it sounds like it was a cover then that’s only because it is so damn timeless.
“Bye Bye Boogie” repeats the dose and whilst I don’t know if there’s a swampy forest in the dark recesses of Auburn, California, it sounds like this was made there.
A 12-bar strut, “The Sky Is Crying” couldn’t be better if it was Walter Trout, and whatever Jim Morrison vibe that was channelled for “Isildur’s Bane” we probably shouldn’t pry.
Most of all, though. These are just incredible songs. “Master Nasty” sounds like a mash-up of Clutch and The Bonnevilles – and when Jarman sings “I only just learned how to write a chorus” he’s only half joking.
In the middle of this, though, is its utterly shining gem. Like so many, “Hopeless” nips off to Robert Johnson’s crossroads for a mooch about in the darkest recesses, but it likes what it finds so much it stays the night. The devil, mate? He’s got no chance. This solo slides so much it’s greasier than three-day-old KFC.
There’s a cover of the blues standard “Going Down” done by everyone from the aforementioned king of things Walter to King King and Joe Bonamassa- it’s never sounded filthier. Never. You’ll need a wash after listening.
“Tired” initially has a go at balladry, of a type, but even here there’s “no salvation coming” – so it explodes.
The last one (there are only nine here as if it was desperate to avoid anything approaching excess fat) is a lament from Jarman that “I was born nobody/and that’s the truth of it all/and I’m gonna die nobody cos I know nobody at all”, so if you thought it might end on a happy note you are half right: “I had a revelation” he proffers. “That I’m doing this wrong. If I wanted to make it I should have ripped off some Zeppelin songs.”
Making it is overrated (as are Zeppelin if I’m allowed to be controversial) the real heroes are here. Shotgun Sawyer know it too.
There’s only one reason you make your third album a self-titled one. You do it if it’s your authentic voice. And that’s exactly what this is.
It’s also brilliant.
Rating 9/10
