Toothy grit, hard lines, and heavy riffs. The past and future of blues music collide in every thunderous snap of the string, shooting a pulse of electricity into an army of soul-dripping tube amps. Fuzz does not even begin to tell the tale of tone. The heavy bark of the guitar anchors itself in the powerful current of vocals exploding out from between his teeth–each word desperate to be heard.
The powerful groove is thrown down with abandon. The unapologetic crushing of the snare head, broken stick by broken stick, is only balanced by his finesse. Every syncopation ties the human physiology back to its tribal heritage.