BLACK DIAMOND HEAVIES - Nine Bullets

Ever since The White Stripes hit the scene, there has been no shortage of two man (or woman) bands out there releasing cds. Hell, there’s been no shortage of coverage for them on this here web site, either. And while there are more two man bands out there than you can shake a stick at, I promise you there are none, and by none I mean ZERO, that are quite like the Black Diamond Heavies. The Black Diamond Heavies are not for the uninitiated…Nay, the Black Diamond Heavies are for people who are ready to feel sin and salvation through the low end of a B3, with a tumbler full of whiskey and Van Cambell’s growl as a drinking partner. I’d been kicking around various ways to describe BDH’s sound and then I saw it spelled out perfectly on a CMJ review of Someone Else’s Class as such, “humid tone over heated tunes.” A perfect description for a gutturally raw and fantastic band.

A Touch of Someone Else’s Class is the follow up to last year’s fantastic Every Damn Time. It features production work by Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys and a guest horn appearance by Ralph Carney. As with any proper blues album, punk-ass or not, it features several covers, including a version of Tina Turner’s “Nutbush City Limit” that may be the best version of the song I’ve ever heard. The disc even offers a surprising change up for the band in “Bidin’ My Time”, a somber ballad that seems as if it was written by Campbell near last call in a smoky piano bar five states away from his girl. While I wouldn’t want an album full of songs like “Bidin’ My Time”, this particular track has become one of my favorite songs on the album.

A Touch Of Someone Else’s Class isn’t only Essential Listening, it’s another slam dunk for both the band and Alive Records…a label that just continues to drop monster album after monster album out of their catalog. If you haven’t already, check them out. And speaking of checking them out, The Black Diamond Heavies are another band that will be playing the Deep Blues Festival next month. They are one of the bands I am most looking forward to getting to check out. I’m telling you, if you are anywhere near Minnesota or in a position to get on a plane and be near it, you need to get to Lake Elmo July 18 thru 20. It’s gonna be an event fans of this sound will be talking about for years to come. - Nine Bullets

RON FRANKLIN - Crawdaddy!

Last Crawdaddy! heard from Ron Franklin he was recording the follow-up to his debut solo album, the garage roots City Lights, anticipating it would be more garage, less roots, and feature a drummer. In the end, Franklin's self-titled second commercial solo release is actually all that (but without the drummer). Recorded for Alive (the label where Two Gallants and the Black Keys made their debuts), the absence of a band or a second body just keeping time is hardly a detriment to his sound; one reviewer found it so compelling he even referred to "percussion" on the new tracks!

Franklin's armorless, one-guy-on-vulnerable-vocals-precision-guitar-and-fine-tuned-vintage-equipment approach does indeed project a full sound, contributing to his songs' immediacy, intimacy, and intrigue. But it's the mysterious power of their words that draw me further into Franklin's daydreamy orbit of old world imagery and its adjacency to modern expression-the kind of place where goth girls hang out at the old-time picture show.

Coming on blustery with the electric "Western Movies", he pulls back with the fingerpicked acoustic "Call It a Night", then amps up and grunges out with "Dark Night Cold Ground" (the kind of tale from the underbelly of life that the Cramps might lay waste to, in a good way). "The Elocutionist" conjures medicine shows and some famous fairytales as it rides on the rhythm of Franklin's electric. "All Along a Summer's Day" is probably the bluesiest thing here, a stay-on-the-chord, boogie drone, with a tight narrative about temptation.

Though seemingly death-obsessed ("Do Not Wait 'Til I am Laid 'Neath the Clay" is among the many references to graveyards and the like), Franklin is hardly a death-rocker. Rather, he is full of life, like one of his heroes, Jimmie Rodgers, whose yodel he tries on "Do Not Wait..." and whose image he conjures in "Dear, Marianne", a poetic epic of our times torn asunder. I am in awe of this elegiac version of "Marianne" just as I was the first time I heard it (live, as well as on one of Franklin's handmade recordings). But as I attempt to collect my jaw from the floor, Franklin knocks me out with a simple acoustic ballad of love and repentance, "That's Just the Love I Have 4U", which has me nearly laid out in lavender.

Franklin's theme songs of cars and women derive their greatest feelings from the combination of familiar song fragments and characters he grafts on to his personal brand of heartache. Universal concepts like "ain't got no home" and "in the pines" as well as Franklin's own "see me in the darkness of my daytime" are straightforward enough, but pondering the meaning of his more psychedelic images like "Tell Jimmy James I hear them coming / I got his back if he do as much for me," has kept me happily occupied for weeks.

Occasionally, Franklin lets his humor fly but his juxtapositions of the lingua franca of the times combined with his deep roots and picaresque references to the bygone era are what keep me coming back for more. I think it's the audacity of his approach that I like-yes, audacity just might be Ron Franklin's secret weapon. - Denise Sullivan / Crawdaddy!

BLACK DIAMOND HEAVIES - Concert Wire

Primitive, ass-shakin' rock

Points East Pub
Milwaukee, WI
June 16, 2008

With no more than a Fender Rhodes 72 with fuzz pedals and drums complete with tambourine attached to a hi-hat, the Black Diamond Heavies treated Milwaukee to a grass roots southern-rock fan fare on Monday night. The Nashville based duo are currently in the midst of their Midwestern tour, hypnotizing everyone in their path with infectious, ass-shakin' rock and blues.

Being the son of a preacher has definitely made its mark on John Wesley Meyers, the duo's keyboardist and scruffy voiced frontman. Wearing a wifebeater and jeans with his long tangled hair covering most of his face, Meyers wriggled and writhed on the piano bench as he launched into a preacher-like spectacle with plenty of references to the devil, women, drugs, and loneliness. With a cigarette dangling from his lips he testified about what seems like every man's struggle with the highs and lows of love, temptation, and self control. And almost too perfect of a fit is the other half of the duo Van Campbell, on drums, whose southern family roots just happen to lye in bourbon distilling.

Traditionally when you think of a garage/blues band you picture wailing slide guitars blaring from too-loud amps, but such is not the case with the Black Diamond Heavies. Meyers' fingers worked magic on the Fender Rhodes creating the illusion of both an electric guitar professing the blues while the fuzzy organ-bass lies steadily underneath. Meyers' deep scraggly vocals were evocative of a soulful and sweet Joe Cocker crossed with the maniacal psychedelic spewing of Arthur Brown. The result is one of gospel/blues persuasion leaving the listener longing for redemption and a shot of whiskey at the same time.

Black Diamond Heavies new album, A Touch of Someone Else's Class, (2008, Alive Records) continues in their gritty, down & dirty style with Meyers' swampy vocals and Campbell's meticulous drumming. Such can be heard on the fast paced assault of "Nutbush City," while a lingering brass section accompanies Myers' soulful love-struck lyrics on "Bidin My Time." As the summer festival months approach, Black Diamond Heavies have proven to be a welcome attraction on both the blues & rock scene with their primitive, stripped down approach to Motown, Gospel, and Soul. - Concert Wire