Albert Castiglia is a bluesman born in New York and raised in Miami, who grew up absorbing a love of the British blues and, in his career, he’s channelled some of the top blues guitarists from this isle whose work he particularly admires: Beck, Clapton and Mayall. This latest album, his thirteenth, comes with the very impressive fact of having been recorded at the legendary Abbey Road Studios, and while the location is noteworthy, so also is the quality of the music. Grits & Glory, alongside some fine playing, has a considerable level of emotional depth, soulful vocals and lyrics drawn from observing what’s happening around him. The blues has always been about storytelling, putting across stories about dire situations and sufferings the teller, or their antecedents, have experienced, and on this album Castiglia puts his heart and soul into his feelings about particular contemporary issues.
The album begins from the perspective of observing the reality of life in the US, with the pulsating blues of ‘In My America’. The sad fact is that a line like ‘smell the smoke from the books on fire’ is based on a truism, as is the observation, ‘man, you just gotta help yourself, that’s the way it is in America.’ He also nods towards Canned Heat in the rolling blues of ‘I’m Afraid to Fall Asleep’, with its intimations of mortality.
He makes his feelings clear on the slow, bluesy, soulful number ‘The Milk Is Still Good’, when he talks of people with a ‘mouthful of scripture, hearts full of hate, people who shouldn’t be allowed to procreate.’ There’s also what might be a dig at the likes of Elon Musk on ‘Slumlord Billionaire’, with its line about ‘we all breathe the same air, but some people believe they’re entitled to more of it than others.’
The playing right the way across the album is very good, particularly from the rhythm section, which lays down a tight foundation for Castiglia to play from, and this shows on the two instrumentals, ‘Sack The Juggler’ and the cover of ‘Afro Blue’, with its very funky Santana-like feel that occasionally comes close to lapsing into classic rock.
It takes real chutzpah to cover a Beatles track within shouting distance of where the original was recorded, but his is a faithful rendition of Lennon‘s ‘Yer Blues’, from the White Album, and it’s handled well, even down to the counting in. The last verse, though, was mixed so far back it could barely be heard. Was this intended? Whatever the answer, it’s a fine way to conclude an album which’ll further enhance Castiglia’s rep as a bluesman.
