Selwyn Birchwood
Exorcist
Alligator Records
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It's not secret that I am one of Selwyn Birchwood's
biggest fans, and I was so excited when the last time I saw him in
concert he announced that he had a new album coming out in June. Of
course, there's always the trepidation that any new album by a beloved
artist will not measure up to previous efforts.
But that's not the case with Exorcist,
Birchwood's fourth album for Alligator Records, as it meets the high
standards of his previous releases. Lots of heavy guitar, with lap steel
occasionally mixed, effective raspy vocals, creative songwriting, and
plenty of energy expended on each song. Birchwood is very adept at
changing moods on the 13 original compositions here, making the listener
laugh at times while also suffering his blues on other cuts.
He starts off with a sense of redemption on "Done Cryin',"
telling us that he's gotten over that failed love, and we want to
believe him. There's a heavy guitar intro, later a strong solo with
intricate fret board gymnastics. That leads into the first of two songs
in which he delivers a tongue-in-cheek mocking of his home state, with "FLorida
Man" interspersed with various news reports of the state's male
citizenry doing very stupid human tricks. Birchwood's lap steel solo is
great.
Birchwood provides a big blast of sound on the up-tempo
"Horns Below Her Halo," and he frequently repeats that description for
his deceitful woman. "Underdog" is one of my favorite cuts, driven along
by a bit of a reggae backbeat and his use of slide on blues/rock guitar
chords. The lyrics frequently describe him as an underdog who's
underrated, undercut, underestimated, understated, undermined, and
underappreciated, mentioning that he works twice as hard to get half as
much.
The title cut is next, also with reggae undertones, as
he repeats the line, "... you ain't got magic on me no more ...," but
that he still needs an exorcist to rid himself of that woman. It's eerie
and spooky, highlighted by a killer sax solo from Regi Oliver.
Background vocalists Charlyce Simmons, Vanessa Hawkins, and Eric Green
give a heavy gospel feeling to the blues shuffle "Lazarus," with Oliver
again shining on sax.
Birchwood's intricate guitar picking provides the intro
to the up-tempo head bopper "Hopeless Romantic," as he sings about while
he never turns his back on love, his woman is causing love to turn it
back on him. His guitar solos here are among the best on the album.
Equally good guitar is heard on the slow blues, "Plenty More To Be
Grateful For," with the female background singers laying down a
seductive vibe.
"ILa-View" opens with a lap steel intro, leading into a
mid-tempo blues shuffle as Birchwood sings about how much he loves that
woman, while Jim McKaba contributes a tasty piano solo. There's even
more wonderful lap steel work ahead.
The other Florida-based humorous tune is "Swim At Your
Own Risk," with a scofflaw escaping the police by taking a dive into
infested waters. Lots of slide guitar here. I'm sure the final score on
this episode was Gator 1, Florida Man 0. Birchwood sings, "... May he
rest in peace in the belly of the beast ..."
"Call Me What You Want To" is an up-tempo shuffle with
jazzy sax work from Oliver and pounding piano from McKaba, while
Birchwood tells that woman that she can call him what she wants because
he knows she's right. This is one hot number, especially when Selwyn
lays down a smokin' blues guitar solo.
More impressive guitar work on the up-tempo blues "My
Own Worst Enemy," as self-esteem gives way to self-loathing, especially
the way he treats himself. Donald "Huff" Wright lays down a nice bass
solo along the way.
Birchwood takes us home with a fast-paced blues
instrumental number, "Show Tune," that, of course, has plenty of
impressive guitar playing as well as giving Oliver one more chance to
blow his sax for us.
Add Exorcist to the growing list of albums that
contribute to Selwyn Birchwood being one of the best blues cats on the
scene today. If you've never seen him live, get to one of his shows
ASAP. You won't regret it.
--- Bill Mitchell