One man’s Skrillex is another’s alien communique; one woman’s James Blunt is another’s coffee table garbage. How do you tell whether John Alexander’s Dustbowl Blues with a Glasgow Kick will be to your liking? The simplest way would be to Google his name (or Yahoo it if you’re feeling nostalgic) and listen for yourself. Assuming your computer speakers have broken however and you’re eager to determine whether Alexander’s country-tinged blues are worth witnessing live, here are some words to help you reach that decision. They may not be as evocative as the music itself, but they’re the best that can be mustered using the text-based format that constrains all music reviews.
If you have an affinity for any or all of the following, John Alexander should appeal to you: desert highways, the twang of steel strings, the lure of the open road, trials and tribulations, simple pleasures, love lost, the gurgle of whisky splashing on the rocks, cherry red lipstick, Sons of Anarchy, gathering storm, navigating by starlight, campfire tales, broken mirrors, tales retold, Americana, melancholy, true grit, the smell of rain, pine needles, empty promises, Marlboro red, smoky eyes, winter mornings, casual encounters with random strangers, autumnal leaves, the Mississippi.
John Alexander can’t be your Skrillex any more than he can offer to be your James Blunt, but if you like your Dustbowl Blues with a Glasgow kick, he’s the apotheosis of this most subjective of all art forms.
