When the word “prodigy” gets tossed around in today’s lexicon it’s often met with a heavy dose of skepticism, and usually those results are married to a lingering sense of disappointment.
After spending time on the road with legendary icons such as Alice Cooper and Wilko Johnson, all while just being a teenager, one could appropriately label Oxford guitarist Aaron Keylock a prodigy. But what’s more important is that his much anticipated debut album, Cut Against The Grain, does not disappoint.
Aptly setting the tone for this neo-retro adventure, blues-inflicted opener All The Right Moves blisteringly begins with a frantic, fuzzy guitar scratch. With a pump the breaks pre-chorus stomp, Keylock subtly shows both his craftsmanship and his melodic talents from the onset; you’ll be howling along by the final chorus. Continuing south from the deltas, Keylock follows his blues influences to the bayous of Louisiana as Down simmers with a swampy, burly tumble. “I keep on going, never really knowing,” he muses before a Jack White-esque chorus breaks, rocking with yet another thrilling sense of whiplash.
A pattering rhythm section restlessly chugs and religiously follows every scurrying whim as the guitar slides through the rumble. The jumbled dice roll of Falling Again is similarly swampy, but Keylock widens the scope with thick harmonies, humid production and a face-melting guitar solo.
As a musician, Keylock’s wildly adept playing can definitely be traced back to his love of the blues, but in terms of songwriting he’s a rock n’ roller at heart. Against The Grain subtly evolves from a gnarly feverish chicken-picking mosh to a pounding, rip-roaring chorus with great effect. Keylock renovates and pays homage to tradition on the wadding, hypnotizing blues jam Sun’s Gonna Shine with robust steel guitar work.
Elsewhere, fans of southern rock n’ roll will surely crack open a beer to the sunny appealing pop of That’s Not Me, which somehow manages to shine despite its melodic predictability. Similarly poppy, but more riveting due to its range, is the melodic garage, toe-tapping standout Spin the Bottle. Beyond the riffs and hooks, Keylock marvelously embraces sleaze with a loose, drawling vocal delivery, breathing melodic character into stout musical arrangements. Strutting with a similar infectious aura of confidence is the twaggy gospel-inflicted Medicine Man.
Not all of Cut Against the Grain is straight-up rumbling Mississippi Delta inspired garage blues; Try is a tender anthemic call to arms that sounds as if Paul McCartney wrote a song for The Rolling Stones. Soulful and groovy, Keylock synthesizes the worn ruggedness of the latter with the instant melodic gratification of the former with welcoming results. Even better is the stormy blues waltz Just One Question, which is the longest, and perhaps the most artistically promising, song on the record. Opening with a two-minute guitar prelude, Keylock exquisitely blends elements of two guitar luminaries, David Glimour and B.B. King, while he finds himself taking an emotive breather from the scruffy blues brawl that compromises much of the record.
The clumsy No Matter What The Cost closes the album on an awkward adolescent note – one of the few instances in which Keylock shows his age. Yet he remains determined to find the greatness that he desires: “Life can be so shallow, you can lose it all again tomorrow,” Keylock heeds on aforementioned standout Try, displaying a humble sense of wisdom that again displays that the virtuoso is well beyond his years.
Musically, there’s not many new things on Cut Against The Grain, but that’s beside the point. Here, Keylock has crafted a warm and welcoming debut that is a hell of a lot of fun.
It conglomerates the timeless, mythic aspect of the blues whilst forging a new perspective to the story.
