“In Debt You Bet” Album Review 29 July 2003 By John Hepworth

IN DEBT? BUDDY SAYS, "YOU’RE WELCOME BOYS, YOU BET! - HAVE SOME MORE!"

Crosscut Saw : In Debt? You Bet! FUN 001 CD
Release date August 4 2003

There are foods which at first you don't like, but still want to have again, straight away and often. Something in you just knows it's the right stuff. With music there's always been a thrill in the warning, "You might not like it first time you hear it." This debut album could be a rite of passage for the listeners, as well as being one in the more obvious sense for the band.

It was always destined to be a tricky album because the one they want and the one their audiences want is only available to the gods, containing the times when pieces from a fairly strictly governed repertoire have simply flipped and gone quintessential before our very senses. Audience and musicians have wished there was a bootlegger in the house to walk up to the stage afterwards and offer a there-and-then CD of the performance.

That's the album nobody can have. The one that's here may seem a little heavily defended by its first track, "Someday Baby", where an uncompromising vocal carries a hint that not everything is going to be easy to listen to. There can be a touch of manifesto in using a sound some might initially find a bit fierce on the opening track..

After this beginning, the listener probably feels grateful for the calm lapping tide that opens "Should I Call You?" And where the tide laps, lies the emotional storm-victim whose narrative gives context to a vocal moving from reflection to anguish. Track three brings a cheery riff with an eerie production surrounding growled lyrics of uncertainty and unease. We know we're enjoying "Swamp Thing", and its spooky harmonica overdub helps us do just that; we enjoy too the change of air when the next track sweeps us north in a delicious working of Buddy Guy's "Leave My Little Girl Alone".

The journeying isn't over and the simple aching hurt of Luther Johnson's "Please Mr Engineer" comes with subdued desperation in a much more delicate vocal, balanced by precise band work. The setting is ready for the widely admired and beautifully wrought "24-7", Crosscut Saw's own material in every way, thanks to the perfect balance of irony and sincerity in lyrics and delivery, both from vocal and instruments. "On My Knees" shares with "24-7" the status of having appeared on both Crosscut Saw's demo CDs. Earning its place by tight guitar and drum capabilities that hold audience attention at the band's gigs, it's a vigorous piece with a sharp finish.

So a sense of intermission suits the moment, and arrives as Sonny Boy Williamson's "I Don't Care No More". The fine harp work is from the same player who's slipped in and out of the studio at various times in the sessions : none other than Alex Eden, also noticeable throughout for virtuoso lead guitar and sizeable vocals. Despite the studio door creaking shut once more behind the elusive visitor, the harmonica stays for some laidback stomping mischief with harp-amp in not fully decipherable vocal use as Muddy Waters' "Champagne & Reefer" is explored.

After which comes the answer to the most frequently asked question over the years: will "Smell a Rat" be on the album? This is the one the gods have more versions of than anything else the band plays, and when he departs this life Buddy Guy will be welcomed in to hear them all. How keenly it is to be wished that Crosscut Saw's success leads them where Mr Guy can be at their shows here on earth, and can take pleasure in how one of his masterpieces had so much in it for other geniuses to develop.

Those who know Crosscut Saw's sound almost take for granted the high standard of musicianship, and to new listeners this will override any reviewer's meanderings. Though the band members are only just beginning to edge out of their twenties the album bears witness to nearly ten years experience together. It closes warmly with a concealed bonus sample - acoustic, untitled, and flavoursome : having brought the clear message that relaxation is worth something too, it flicks into an imaginary run-out groove until the next time.

JOHN HEPWORTH 29 JULY 2003