The Cat House Dogs fondly recall Tom Petty’s ticked-off early work

Reviewed by Kit Burns

Cat House Dogs/That Was Now

The Cat House Dogs’ second album That Was Now opens with a thick layer of jangling guitars, raspy vocals, and the most guttural roots-rock since the heyday of Jason & the Scorchers. While many of today’s Americana acts play it twee and safe, the Cat House Dogs aren’t afraid to get drunk and burn the barn down. Pass the whiskey, please.

If you fondly recall Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers in their ticked-off late ’70s/early ’80s period, before their midtempo numbers started creeping up the charts and followed by duets with Stevie Nicks, the Cat House Dogs are definitely bowling in your alley. The first track, “Fine Line,” is what the Jayhawks would’ve sounded like if they woke up with a hangover and then discovered that their tour bus was stolen. It is Americana delivered raw with brass knuckles. “Do It” marries the downward grunge of Soundgarden with the raunchy blues of Reverend Horton Heat. “Beautiful Rays,” “Far Away,” and “Never in a Million Years” are cut with Petty’s flannel but delivered without the watered-down studio gloss. Then, just when you think you have the Cat House Dogs pegged, they leave you with the reggae-inflected “Lost Again” just to mess you up. The uptight critics might pull their hair; that’s just too bad, ain’t it?

http://www.cathousedogs.com

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Blues rocker John Garr drinks alone but parties hard on ’331′

Reviewed by Kit Burns

John Garr/331

John Garr probably doesn’t ring a bell. And please don’t mistake him for John Parr, the cheese rocker who had a mid-’80s hit singing the theme song for St. Elmo’s Fire. Who is he, then? Garr is a baby-boomer bluesman with a creative range that reaches into the ’50s and stretches into the ’80s heyday of the AOR format. However, don’t call this retro. First of all, Garr’s lyrical subject matter isn’t defined by a particular decade. “Leave Me Alone Blues,” for example, is a timeless ode to drunken isolation wherein Garr doesn’t want anybody seeing him cry in his beer. But Garr isn’t moping; he’s simply unleashing his devils inside as his band joins the sad-sack party with explosive sax, muscular drumming, and jumpy piano.

Secondly, Garr doesn’t fall into a single category. Free from any record-label restrictions, Garr is able to strut whatever sweet tooth he has buried within from the light reggae of “I Love You Baby” to the pop jazz of “What About Love” to the rockabilly of “Failure to Communicate” to the downtrodden blues of “I Get It From You.” What the – ? Indeed, Garr has more ideas in his brain than most artists that are supposedly at the peak of youthful fertility. Save me a beer, man.

http://www.johngarr.com

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