As a band from the South whose musical roots
are clearly from there, it’s interesting that Velvet
Truckstop bears shades of rural rock ‘n’ roll as
well as the West Coast brand of the same music.
For as much as they dig deep into a well of guttural
playing and raw sounds, they exhibit the softness
and caress of something like the Grateful Dead on
“Box” or “Mercenary Wind.” Songs where guitar
crunch is coupled with effective breaks, like on
tracks “Sweet Release” and “Resting Place,” serve
both as stomping power and hip, deep grooves. By
album’s end the band is firing full tilt, seemingly
saving it up for the explosive and funky “Lover
Liar,” which exudes Memphis sound by way of
Detroit, complete with horns, wah-wah guitar and
a smooth construction eager to go ballistic.
The band swaggers on Sweet Release, laying
in background harmonies and raindrop-trickling
piano notes that seems to cleanse the cigarette and
beer-soaked environment the music inhabits. The
piano playing here is a texture that really blankets,
only slightly more than the slide guitar playing.
Both are effective and emotionally powerful
additions that accompany the vibe, versus merely
lending another sound. Jamie Dose’s vocals are a
gentle growl throughout, moving from soothing
to haggard with scant effort. He sings with ease,
like delivering songs on a porch to family and
neighbors. It’s emblematic of the album’s whole – a
collection of music that is ragged and colorful, laid
back with subtle vibrancy.