<p><span><span>- It has been a hot minute since I’d given much from Seasick Steve<strong> </strong>a burl so when <em>Love & Peace </em>rolled around, the feeling was much the same as catching up with an old friend. 2008’s <em>Started Out With Nothing </em>was the modern entry point for me to retroactively dive into blues and when reports surfaced in 2016 about Seasick Steve’s narrative being a fabrication, it seems like a kayfabe breaking would put a pin in the train-hopping tale. Well, it didn’t. It actually resulted in a run of solid records. For this new venture, the nomad packed up his handkerchief sling, leapt onto a passing carriage -with his trusty percussion man in tow- and pottered off from his barn to LA for recording in Studio 606 and East West Studio 3 respectively. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>From the start, you realise this new found fidelity combined with confidence earned over years of toil has birthed freedom and fun in equal measures. Fun in relation to blues music…well…it’s as tautological as saying “a good Radiohead song”. On the side of music freedom, it is a beefy twelve track release with <em>Love & Peace</em> where about three quarters of the songs exceed the four minute mark, jamming on filthy boogie blues riffs in a thunderbird swilling group session. There’s stomps, there’s claps and repeating a mantra sets the tone of the title track while some janky piano drunkenly dances between beats. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>Before long, <em>Regular Man</em> sees Seasick Steve swagger through with confidence of a con convicted by his narrative. It is ruled supreme by a glorified stomp box rhythm, which should not be seen as a knock on Steve’s partner in crime <strong>Dan Magnusson. </strong>The duo goes back as far as <strong>The Level Devils </strong>and how Magnusson provides a back bone for wandering improvised guitars and gruff drawls is so in synch, you couldn’t have one without the other. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>Even though they’re now in you-beaut recording spaces, <em>Carni Days </em>is an early morning musing about life on the carnival circuit. It suits the song's bleary-eyed and heavy-headed outlook, having a solitary guitar with fret-buzz-addled raw strums as the scene setting’s running mate. Now contrast this spotlight moment to <em>Toes In The Mud</em>. The whole crew here is in full festival mode with a singalong “chug-a-lugg-a-luggy”. God the absurd is so fun. In fact, throw in <em>Clock Is Running </em>in said category: it was so close to breaking into swamp rock pomp. Extended and ascendant chorus chords tickle around the idea. There’s also this incredibly fun drum fill in the pocket in an interlude and it’s a simple but cracking groove. There’s a solo on <em>Ain’t Nothin’ Like The Boogie </em>that can’t work out if it wants to embody its natural state of a harmonica or emulate the warm guitar fuzz. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>There was so much good on this record and an upsettingly limited time to cover it in its entirety. It was an absolute blast and an earnest pleasure reacquainting myself with Seasick Steve. Still deep in his travelling man nature with tales of his storied mythos, he’s now a firm part of, quote unquote, 'proper recording'. Seasick Steve taking the absolute piss out of the seriousness of the whole thing with with barn storming fun, it works a wondrous dichotomy. I will raise my glass of thunderbird and enjoy my campfire cooked can of spaghetti while I lap up this record. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>- Matt Lynch.</span></span></p>
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