One of the unwritten rules of Rock’n’Roll is to ensure The Myth gets built along the way. Sex, drugs and depraved behaviour are always good value, of course, but how about that other essential ingredient: enigma.
The ‘E’ word seems very close to the heart of THE LUCKY STRIKES. OK, the fact they hail from Southend-on-Sea rather than, say, Tombstone, Arizona might suggest there’s nothing weird going down here, but to judge this lot’s book at face value would be very wrong indeed. Even this early in their career (this is their third LP) they are becoming masters of mystery and tellers of staggering apocryphal tales.
At least, I’m assuming they’re apocryphal. 2009’s second LP ‘The Chronicles of Solomon Quick’ was allegedly a “half true” account of the murder of the legendary Robert Johnson, while their new album ‘Gabriel, Forgive My 22 Sins’ is another ‘concept’ album of sorts, based around the fall of boxer Frankie Valentinez: a one-time champion who descends into madness after taking a bribe to throw a fight. A great story and most likely based upon fact, though the names have been changed to protect the innocent. As far as I recall, no real life boxer of that name ever gave the likes of George Foreman or Barry McGuigan a run for their money.
The cover artwork throws a dummy too. The sepia-toned ‘50s pugilist is the sort of image Morrissey might use, yet the music contained within throws a series of potent, Roots-y combination punches which will have you on the ropes if you’re not careful. Opener ‘The Boxer, the Bribe & The Father’ starts off sounding like it’s a long-lost Blind Boys of Alabama out-take, but soon ramps up the drama with bitten-off guitar riffs, tumbling pianos and blasts of Mariachi brass. It relates the story of Valentinez’ fateful fight night (“I know you want to be a champion, but I’ve got a bigger prize/ I’ll pay you twenty large to lose the fight tomorrow night”) but its’ Punky urgency will appeal to fans of Gallon Drunk or The Bad Seeds every bit as much as any traditional ‘Americana’ audience.
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They keep you guessing from thereon in, proving themselves to be eminently comfortable whether tackling crunching bar-room rockers like ‘The Fight’, kicking riffs around like corpses on the mean-spirited likes of ‘Snake In The Grass’ and ‘The Man with the Golden Arm’ or setting up a rousing, Men They Couldn’t Hang-style anthem like ‘Easily, Easily Until It’s Done’ which showcases both Matthew Boulter’s memorably plaintive vocals and Jim Wilson’s adroit fiddling.
They can do subtlety when required too. ‘Slowly The Night Fades’ ain’t a blue million miles from The Band’s lonely Appalachian sound, while on ‘Romans 8’, Frankie Valentinez tries on redemption to find it doesn’t fit (“oh my Lord above, please don’t go easy on this man”) over a sparse backdrop of bluegrass banjo and fiddle. Elsewhere, on exciting set-pieces like ‘The Road’ and ‘Bel and the Dragon’ they marry elegantly blasted desertscapes to clanking junkyard blues in a way that reminds me of the late, great Triffids. Very favourably indeed, I might add.
Ultimately, while the cautionary tale of Frankie Valentinez dominates ‘Gabriel, Forgive My 22 Sins’, you don’t really need to understand the nuances to appreciate the vivid psycho-dramas contained within. The Lucky Strikes regale us with tales of drunks, outlaws and those living on the wrong side of the tracks and, like all great bands, leave us wanting much, much more. That Myth I spoke of is being constructed on very solid foundations here.
The Lucky Strikes online
The Lucky Strikes on Myspace
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