Hoodoo That We Doo (Melrose Hill Records) by The Beat Daddys ratchets up the action more than a few notches with its blend of barrelhouse soul struttin', funky good times, whiplash guitar and even the odd moment of reflection ("The Moment"). It's a heady concoction fronted by a guy, Larry Grisham, who likes to stretch the boundaries of what you can do and cannot do in the guise of a blues shouter. He'll play with his vocal sound until it comes out electronic. Or he'll grunt his way past any normal semblance of blues notoriety to go all Screaming Jay Hawkins on us. There's no telling what voice Grisham will pull out of his porkpie hat. Half the time, he's a soul man like Soloman Burke or Jerry Butler. One thing for sure, though, he'll blow that harp right in your face until the cows come home.
Thirty years and nine albums later (although not all of them released in the U.S.), he's still got the same partner, Tommy Stillwell, the razor-sharp guitarist and co-writer of these 11 originals who'll sting like a bee or scratch it like Slim Harpo doin' the chicken-scratch to your itchy back. It just feeeeels so good. Together, they make a mighty mighty pair. In fact, give this duo (because that's what The Beat Daddys are when you get right down to it) a drummer who can stop on a dime (and also is credited with extra percussion and "chains" on the obligatory gospel shout "These Chains"), a thumpin' bassist, another guy just to bang on some pots for "Hoodoo Woman" and an organist for two tracks and you've got Hoodoo That We Doo, a jelly jam of New Orleans proportions even though they're from bum-flat nowhere Kentucky.
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