The Brook & The Bluff – Werewolf (Dualtone) (13th Floor Album Review)
The Brook & The Bluff are soulful soft rockers no more. They loosen up and let rip on Werewolf, a rowdy and welcome departure from their earlier work.
Aiming to replicate the feel of their live shows in the studio, the four-piece who originally hail from Birmingham, Alabama, have turned up their amps and embraced soaring lead guitars in what is a jolting transformation from the sunny 1970s grooves that set the blueprint for their 2019 debut long-player First Place and gentle follow-ups, Yard Sale (2021) and Bluebeard (2023), a sound anchored by the warm three- and four-part harmonies of Joseph Settine (vocals, guitar), Alex Bolton (guitar, vocals), John Canada (drums, vocals) and Fred Lankford (bass, vocals). Their popularity would indicate it’s been pleasant enough for many, but as is the case for their Chicago contemporaries Whitney, there is a tipping point where, once every edge has been smoothed out of the music, it becomes insipid mellow goo.
Werewolf retains the deft harmonies but exorcises the languid noodling and golden vibes in favour of propulsive riffs and late night thrills, finding a guiding light in classic rock staples, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Tom Petty, Eagles and Little Feat. I wouldn’t say The Brook & The Bluff are pushing the boat out to any great depths, but this record is exuberant and cohesive. Its songs explore coming-of-age themes, responsibility and self-reflection, and what it means to be a modern Southern man, but I’m relying on the press material for that. I find myself focused more on the feel of the songs than their lyrics, which is typically a good sign.
The band holed up in Nashville and practised the songs heavily before entering the studio with producer Micah Tawlks (Hayley Williams, Mat Kearney, COIN), where they recorded the tracks live, all seated in a circle. From the sounds of it they had a blast. The up-tempo one-two punch of title track Werewolf and Get By make the album’s good times intentions known, but it is the glorious country-tinged rocker Can’t Figure It Out that really announces this record. Its hooks and harmonies, cut through with a searing lead guitar and Settine’s reedy delivery, had me wondering if it was a long-lost Jayhawks classic.
Super Bowl Sunday is as anthemic and dumb as its title suggests (in a good way), and by the time it burns out I’m left wondering if we have the makings of a modern Americana classic. Weary ballad Baby Blue offers a wistful gear change, reminding me heavily of early-aughts London alt.country band Grand Drive, while the rollicking 105 brings ample chooglin’ from the CCR swamps. Gone For the Weekend, an ode to restless souls, rivals Can’t Figure It Out for the album’s best track. Like much of The Brook & The Bluff’s music, it pulls heavily from 1970s folk rock, but it doesn’t carry the whiff of pastiche like their sweet soul albums did. The killer guitar work also helps the cause.
Werewolf staggers a little in its later stages, when the Eagles’ influence holds too much sway (I’ll Have It Down, Moving Along), but not enough to wound its jubilant vibe. It’s an LP that deserves to join Band of Horses’ Everything All The Time and Wilderado’s 2021 self-titled debut on summer porch playlists. As is apparent from my constant name-checking, listening to Werewolf reminded me of a lot of other bands, including many I’d forgotten about as quickly as I’d got hooked on them (The Nude Party, Futurebirds, that first Dawes record), and who I delighted in rediscovering – as a kinda companion soundtrack to this album. It speaks to the ubiquitous nature of folk rock and perhaps its lack of innovation, but also of its allure as an enduring refuge. It remains to be seen whether Werewolf will blend in with the pack, but is a mighty fine statement of reinvigorated intent from a band I’d previously written-off as yacht rock daydreamers.
Matthew Dallas
The Brook & The Bluff
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