Doug Pettibone has played guitar with everyone. Well, maybe not everyone, but close to it. Give him a couple years. In fact, if you don't currently play guitar, go buy one, learn some chords, and wait. Pettibone is bound to show up soon to cut an album with you. This a guy who has spent a lifetime putting his consummate musical skills into backing up musical icons such as Mark Knopfler, Joan Baez, Tracy Chapman, Jewel, and most recently Lucinda Williams. Musicians want him on tour and producers trust him in the studio. It's amazing he even has time to run over to Denny's for a "Moon Over My Hammy" special. Indeed, Doug Pettibone is to music what a good special prosecutor is to Washington, D.C.- always busy, always in demand, and always looking at more irons than most fires can hold.
So what does a guy like Doug do when he gets a little downtime? He records "The West Gate," his debut solo album that highlights an effortless transition from backup musician to frontman. It's like Atlas shrugged, then picked up a guitar and ripped into some Muddy Waters. "The West Gate" is an album written by a musician for people who are passionate about music. It's not for people who are into bling, music awards shows, or synchronized dance moves in clubs. No, this album is for people who wake up and throw in some music before reaching for their toothbrush. With songs that are staggeringly beautiful in their simplicity, Doug Pettibone takes full advantage of the opportunity to showcase his considerable talents as a songwriter, and delivers a spectacularly gooey slice of good ol' fashioned American music.
I know. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking of all of those other guitar dudes who pulled their heads up out of their Jack Daniels and thought about what a swell idea it would be to record a solo album. And you're cringing as you try hard not to look over at the closet where your copy of Slash's Snakepit is buried. I know. I've been there. But here's the thing- with "The West Gate," Pettibone has locked up his electric guitars and instead opted for a stripped-down acoustic showcase, complete with live vocals and most songs being done in the first take. The result is a collection of songs that go down like warm, smooth Kentucky bourbon. In fact, listening to the entire album is like a conversation with an old friend in the back booth of a honky tonk.
Summoning influences from Hank Sr. to Howlin' Wolf, Pettibone delivers with a style entirely his own. A style that Rolling Stone recently opined "evokes the poetic economy of Keith Richards at his Exile on Main Street finest." Songs such as "Jolene" and "North Carolina" offer smoky melodies and lyrics that suggest early Bob Dylan at his most contemplative. "Original Originator" is a bluesy, foot-stomping barnburner that sounds like it's been playing on back porches across the country for a hundred years, and "Honey Biscuit" is a pedal-steel-driven classic that sounds like Robert Johnson himself could have easily written it. "Little Man," one of the album's highlights, is an achingly stunning letter to his young son, holding on to his love through the distance and desperation of a life on the road. He even brought in his friend and employer, Lucinda Williams, to contribute her inimitable vocals on two tracks, including a spectacularly boozy, freewheeling cover of Dylan's "She Belongs to Me."
Pettibone writes from the gut, which is the origin of all great things. Listen to this album and you can almost taste the whiskey in there. It warms the heart to know that there are guys out there like Doug Pettibone, who wake up and take something ridiculous like twenty guitars to work, and in the course of his workday, play every godforsaken one of them. It makes us feel safe, knowing that somewhere out there is a big, road-weary, hard-charging guitar god who can create more music during the life of his American Spirit cigarette, than a thousand alt-rock bands combined. And with this album, Doug reminds everyone that beyond the trappings of rock stardom, music is simply about great songs, plain and simple.
"The West Gate" is one of those albums that you'll put in your CD player and three months later it will still be there. If your girlfriend or boyfriend asks, "Is that the same CD you've been listening to for three months?" politely ask them to get out of the car. This album is worth more than them. Trust me.
Get your copy of "The West Gate" here!
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