Fab Tone 2025
Australian bluesman returns to a power trio format for a round of low-fat soul-searching.
Grease Bucket
Not a man to polish his delivery – one’s music is supposed to reflect harsh reality, after all – Gwyn Ashton doesn’t forget that the first two letters in the title of the genre he’s been dealing in for four decades now should stand for “bitching about life” and that sorrow and humor complement each other quite existentially. But even though the Welsh-born Aussie explored lonesomeness on his own on records like 2013’s "Fistful Of Blues" or in the company of a friend, as it was on "Sonic Blues Preachers" back in 2019, Gwyn always favored a setup in which he’s free to sing and play guitar while the groove duties are delegated to a standalone rhythm section as 2012’s "Radiogram" showed with a lot of gusto. Still, the songs of “Grease Bucket” – laid down in a similar way, yet bearing the traces of post-pandemic outlook – find Ashton fathom human fate on this mortal soil and, thus, embrace, with a wry smile on his face, slightly different sensibilities than those of yore.
Frequently opting for parchment-dry voice that’s shrouded in effects, the veteran is lending his licks to sympathetic support from bassist Chris Lambden and drummer Paul Wheeler who collectively create what’s best summarized in the title of “Down & Dirty” which, in its seductive shuffle, may also point to a peak of their emotional drive, especially when Andrea Dawson’s gospel vocals join in the fun. Yet if opener “Something That The Cat Dragged In” seems to be possessed with more grit, this piece’s relentless beat bolstering Gwyn’s serrated axe, and “Howlin’ At The Moon” infectiously updates the “Oh Well” riff to marry funk to the sweet tone Ashton’s pipes and six strings conspire to create, the despair-pouring “Green Light Blues” makes farewell an exciting endeavor, and the countrified “Self-Isolation Blues” runs amok in pursuit of a lighting-fast slider roll. And whereas “When The Well Runs Dry” will surprise the listener with a bout of sarcastic rapping as a contrast to the cut’s spiritual-like refrain and edgy arrangement, the insistent “Little Bit Of Crazy” turns out quite romantic, so “Blues For The Tortured Soul” brings things to a close by encompassing different kinds of inner turmoil and reining in the intensity of nine preceding numbers.
All of it is as stylish as only masters with Gwyn Ashton’s experience and taste can achieve – and as homey-smelling as the album’s title suggests.
*****
