Simon RushworthThe Cold Stares — The Southern (Mascot Records)
If, as frontman Chris Tapp claims, The Southern is a deep dive into what Southern rock really means to The Cold Stares then the results are quite sublime.
Don’t, for a minute, expect wall-to-wall Skynyrd or bulldozing brush strokes of Allman Brothers.
Sure, there’s a distinctly Southern drawl underpinning the band’s seventh studio album and the Mason Dixon line often feels like it’s a long, long way north.
But this is an album that doesn’t always do what it says on the tin.
And that’s what makes The Southern such an intriguing prospect and such an unexpected pleasure.
Perhaps it’s wise to reference Tapp’s musical — rather than geographical — roots when attempting to assimilate this record’s rich variety.
Tapp talks about spending time listening to ‘old guys at the local lodge’ and hearing Bad Company, Robin Trower and AC/DC jostling for position with country and Southern rock.
And he readily admits he believed Free must be from Georgia after hearing All Right Now for the first time.
That schooling in blues and hard rock feeds into a Cold Stares sound carefully honed since 2012.
But there’s no doubt the addition of bassman Bryce Klueh, ahead of 2023’s Voices album, has inspired Tapp and co-founder Brian Mullins to further embrace their love of Cream, Zeppelin and the British blues rock greats.
The Southern is a joyous musical exploration — where Tapp’s past meets his present in fine style.
The Cold Stares fix their gaze on greatness
Opener Horse To Water is indicative of The Southern’s intuitive juxtaposition between the traditional and the trailblazing.
Its disarming title hints at one thing but a robust song delivers something entirely different.
Tapp could be Kentucky’s answer to Phil Lynott as he leads the way with confidence — somehow it sounds just right.
The barrelling Confession leans on a muscular 80s-style production as rhythm kings Mullins and Klueh kick any preconceptions into touch.
Elsewhere Woman sounds like the best Rival Sons song we’ve yet to hear.
And the laid back, dreamy Americana of Level Floor Blues is brilliantly conceived as Tapp gushes with authenticity.
The message is clear: Southern can mean many different things to many different people.
In fact, it’s a breath of fresh air that Tapp’s decision to explore his roots didn’t result in some kind of lazy rehash of cringeworthy Kentucky tropes.
Blow Wind Blow and Giving It Up have more than a hint of Hendrix at their heart — the latter imagines Jimi jamming with Kossoff and Page in some Alabama dive bar.
And if Mortality Blues best binds place, culture and soul then even the stripped back set closer isn’t classically Southern.
Simply put, The Cold Stares are on a hot streak.
