Dakota Jones

Id-entity versus Ego-centricity: Who you are, what you feel, why you is or are, how you exist and crucially ‘when’ is the theme of the dream on this delicately raucous debut album from genre-blending NYC blues ‘n’ soul rockers Dakota Jones.

Upfront, out centre, loudly proud and not backwards about charging forwards and onwards is the uniquely-treacly, dusky-husky, gravelly-gutter-growl of Tristan Carter-Jones. This is a delivery that veers between instructively, seductively and persuasively balming, calming, self-harming/helping narratives of heart-hurt, love-loss, gain and medicinal dependency; especially on the pill-pop, thrill-drop ‘Medicine’ where Jones emotes like a more bruised, battered and psychically shattered Joan Armatrading.

This passionate plea for assistance, liberation from the rituals of the (il)legal daily bread and the redemptive realisation that these supposed little helpers are doing more damage than good (d)evolves into a scape of schizoid-guitars, rollicking punch-funk-bass and the scarred/scared sound of it all crashing on in, thrashing out and down. To begin to rebuild, you’ve got to demolish and construct again.

With a supreme sonic support structure comprising Jones (vocals), Scott Kramp (bass) Steve Ross (drums), and acclaimed musician Randy Jacobs (guitar) and with production from Grammy-winning John Wooler (John Lee Hooker, John Hammond, Isaac Hayes and Van Morrison) ‘Black Light’ (un)covers a multitude of bases, (dis)covers fruitful new territory and ((re)covers from all manner of knocks and shocks.

Eleven tracks of roots-rock riddled with revelatory rites of passage (‘I did it to myself’) and the emotional extinguishing of extant or exited flames (‘Black magic (That Power)). Additionally summoning sermons from higher states (‘Lord Please’), and the raw, sore and emphatically exuding an attitude that ain’t gonna take it no more on the rallying call to arms collective plea of ‘Noise’.

Orientations, colourations, deviations, iterations, manifestations, the articulation of inner perception and outer reception, the melting pot concoctions of the eternal everyday (personal, political, philosophical) are all thrown together, mixed, matched and (re)produced on ‘Black Light’.