Pearson's strained bark lacks the growling presence of many of his contemporaries and influences, and neither does he have a soul-smooth voice. His songs--whether up-tempo 12-bar progressions, country honks or smoldering, slow blues--rehash a skillet of ain't-I-got-trouble blues tropes with alarming tedium. He sings about having sex with women, leaving women, about women leaving him, about men stealing his women.
Tired metaphors abound--witness "Too Many Drivers," "My Baby Is a Jockey," "Possum Up a Tree" and the uninspired "The Highway Is Like a Woman," in which the convoluted analogy annoyingly roams past the limits of plausibility. He actually ends that song by comparing the object of his affections to a meal at KFC: "Everybody knows that you're finger-lickin' good." Sheesh.
That said, the music on this disc is killer, including guest appearances from Ike Turner and Kid Ramos on guitar, Joey DeFrancesco on B-3 organ and guitarist-singer W.C. Clark, as well as the Rhythm Room All-Stars, which includes harmonica player and producer Bob Corritore. It's a shame, though, that the front man sounds like a parody of a blues singer.
