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Tut, tut, tut. Look at all those White Stripes/Detroit comparisons the 22-20s have had to endure. Its more off the mark than a fox hunter practising democracy, but these days anyone who puts in a bit of a shriek and a dirty lick can earn such a measure. Eighteen bloody months of it!
But, alas, the much talked about Lincoln quartet need not explain themselves any more, as they have oh, thirty-nine minutes and forty-nine seconds of unquestionable sponge soaked bar room blues to dispense.
What makes this charged debut such a powerful statement is its impeccable flow. From the moment Devil In Me swaggers in like a Molotov cocktail, you know this is going to rock - hard.
Rock this album certainly does, in its carefully plotted peaks and troughs. Even as early as track three (Baby Brings Bad News) singer/guitarist Martin Trimble is happy to drop a lighter burner. And a quite personal one at that too: "I'm getting sick of everyone I'm with, I'm getting sick of keeping positive, I'm getting bored of putting on a smile, I've been so good but it doesn't pay like it should."
22 Days struts in like the Spiritual Beggars have been doing for the last seven years, before Friends invites the album's most tender moment as we find Trimble in troubadour mode. Again it's quite personal: "I've done things I shouldn't do, taken things to get me through.."
It's quite astonishing to think the Detroit rumble of the demonic Why Don't You Do It For Me was made in Lincoln and recorded in Cornwall. It cripples the boundaries and sounds commonly associated with blues and rock'n'roll, putting paid to misconceptions to the confines of Memphis, Detroit or what have you.
Completing the dual peak of this quite remarkable record, is the tear-jerking grandness of Shoot Your Gun. While it would seem these young chaps are all but about to peter away with the creamy march of The Things That Lovers Do, I'm The One gnashes back with everybody firing on all cylinders around Trimble's catchy lead.
As you listen to this album more and more (which it urges you to), it soon becomes clear Trimble is the virtuoso behind it all. Not that his more than capable band mates don't deserve a shout. But Trimble, who penned all ten songs, drives it all and is the gravity well which keeps the 22-20s in balance. To cap it all off, that wonderful rawness in the 22-20s sound owes much to knob twiddling Primal Scream collaborator, Brendan Lynch.
This may not be the most original album, but it is an album the hype mongers and fans collectively will have hoped for. As quite a few people in the biz might tell you nowadays, the blues rock book (or bible if you will) has been written long ago. Sometimes the best solution is to simply to leave it as it is, reinterpreting as best you can, but never lacking the spirit.
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