Wearing a denim work shirt, sandals, a new haircut and gnawing on his gum like it owes him money, Chris Cook growls out gritty, someone just had sex with your woman, back porch blues with a voice like an empty stretch of highway, a heartache, a dream unfulfilled.
Some artists play for the money, some play for the groupies, some for the love of the music; I get the impression that Chris Cook plays, and writes, because he needs to. That there is something deep and hidden inside this incredibly talented troubadour unexpressed that begs to be birthed into the blatant lights of the stage. There is genuine pain behind his voice and his words.
His singing voice sounds like Delbert McClinton and Keb Mo had a curly haired baby boy born with the ability to rip the roof off a joint with R&B classics, funky pop, and spine-wrenching blues licks. But it is his songwriting that sets Cook apart from the herd. He writes of the roads he has travelled, the life he has led, and the One that got away. Listening to his original songs leads me to believe that, because of a romantic soul, the women who have broken his heart fuel his music. Songs such as, “Rock and a Romance” and “The One That Got Away” are testimonials to love gone bad. Even when he covers “Ain’t No Sunshine” there is a funky darkness to the way he strokes it out that tells the listener that he has felt every word of this classic Bill Withers’ tune of loneliness.
I, apparently, am awfully conspicuous standing next to the Hog’s Breath stage with a small spiral notebook, scribbling. Chris immediately recognizes me as the guy bugging him on the phone for two weeks, begging for an interview. He finishes his set and we step outside into the parking lot. We discuss life, bad love, and his European tour. We smoke cigarettes and have a drink or two. He strikes me as a very nice guy, if a little melancholy.
I comment to him that I appreciate his style. We discuss the blues. I appreciate, as a blues aficionado, that there is a huge difference between “Statesboro Blues” stroked out in a hundred dark bars across this country, the way every other barfly plays it, Allman Brothers-style and playing it the way it should be played, Blind Willie McTell-style; dirty, gutter, and experienced.
As he begins his next set, I wonder how many people in this unusually subdued crowd realize what a talent is standing on the other side of their Sauzabombs. I mean, even myself, who does this for a living, keeps trying to be blasé’ and walk away. I have friends waiting to buy me drinks at the Green parrot, for Pete’s sake! But I cannot seem to remove myself from this barstool.
The music is intoxicating, the words sublime. The delivery is impeccable. I find myself wondering why this guy is not a multi-Grammy winner by now. And then I really listen…
There is no apology in Chris Cook. There is only the heartache, the many years on the dusty road, the music. He has paid the dues, he has beaten the odds, and he has been the minstrel for you and the jester. Now, it is about the music and the words and the night.
Chris Cook would love to be a star, but at 40yrs old, this man plays because he has something to say. Something to express. Something to deliver to the masses. Something beautiful and ballsy and powerful.
Hog’s Breath Saloon continues to amaze me with its seemingly never-ending set list of original and exceptional songwriters and performers. On top of that, the drinks are strong, the food is palatable(if not above average), and the wait staff are not only cordial and professional but fun!
Do yourself a favor and come out to the Hog’s Breath Saloon Monday the 24th and listen to an exceptional performer pouring out his heart and soul to you. Chris Cook is not all about the blues. But the blues are what you will hear if you listen and it will be well worth the trip.
