
This dude rolls down the road by train and Buick finding desolation here and laughter there and personal collisions with stones and Queen Jane and Thin Tom Thumb. He rocks Americana and rolls just like a......dream.
The ragged touring band arrives at the western saloon, sets up on the dusty wooden floor, in front of that wall distressed with bullet holes, tunes up quickly and lets loose. Like a joyful musicians circus they let rip, the brew is strong and true the audience lean or climb on the barrels, the mood is upbeat and drunk on a chorus of fun.
Mythic tales from the frontier, the hard life after the civil war, the history in a folk rock hillbilly costume, harmonies and tunes fit for dustbowl heroes, these artisans are fine craftsmen of song. In 69 they seemed the true troubadours of American old time song with the filigree ornamentation of antique reproductions.
America is fractured, lost souls, the corruption of money and Californian dreams, the climate of poignant sadness. The silvery thin voice is locked into his own nightmares and steely partnerships. The junkie girl in the photo, the moody girlfriend surfs on Henry's flat hat. Novels of the life in a minute of song.
This man is on a mission, beyond the plains, througth the forest, across the canyons, hidden in the clouds are the peaks of his own desire for perfection. And now he can reveal and share these perfect fragments shrouded in this sweet mountain air, the refracted folk memories, the universal tribal melodies, the soul of the saxophone haunts this place, for all time.

Coltrane's blues are explored and demons released by this vibrant trio. Fat warm tones from the Hammond, cascading notes from the electric guitar of the leader who brings spirit and colour with depth, and underneath Elvin plays the lines from the true ribbon, following the guidance of the master with magic drums and cymbals.
The global seach touches down in Andalusia, Buenos Aires, Central Africa and a dusty village on the Indian sub continent. Joe fuses the beats from everywhere and finds meaning and the familiar, deja vu, humanity does struggle, strives and sings in all corners of the earth. The synth resounds around the world, the ethnic invention of sound designers rings out in those distant but artistically rich villages on every continent.
The numbers added up 1967, if 6 was 9, EXP speed and space rock from this Einstein of the guitar. Mr Electric takes wing and builds bold castles in a moment, their intricate third dimension structures stand forever as the poetry of genius, so alive and then fading into black winter. 10,000 miles away the delta blues inspiration can only be faintly heard in this original collection of musical and mystical poems.
The master retuns to fast fusion but also packing those magic toys from journey's around the world. Mellow and uplifting now the scary space cadet young gun has transformed into the guide to the brightest stars and those moments of perfection and enlightenment. What a trip for the open minded listener ..... meaning, passion and truth lie within faithful traveller.
Vibrant puple vibes pour out of this fusion mix that reinvents the 21st century with a nod to Jazz/Rock history and a mix of urban funk and mature composing from the future present. The wall of sounds refracting with simple direction here, easy improv and genius playing trigger the sparks that fly through the night after sunset.


Flying melodies that prey on the essential. Swelling with intelligence, the heavy textured tones of the tenor sax penetrate the walls, unsettle the frame, sadness and melancholic shade pervade with energetic purpose. The quartet makes its final ruminating statement, the piano has fallen silent, the player has played his last note, the requiem published in tribute. The Jazz life, tragedy and glory.



