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Duane Eddy - Road Trip (Album Review)
Monday, 27 June 2011 Written by James Ball
Duane Eddy - Road Trip (Album Review)

Duane Eddy has been noted as an influence for the likes of Sir Paul McCartney, Jimmy Page, Bruce Springsteen, Hank Marvin and Ry Cooder, among others. Who else in musical history can boast a list like that?

ImageYou may not have heard of him yourselves. You may not rank him as essential as a result, but when Duane Eddy picks up a guitar and decides to make an album, something he doesn’t do all that often, the results are magical. After all, when you’ve been around since before the start of the Second World War, and have won Grammys, Hall of Fame places and even a Number One Musician in the World award when he was a lad of just 22, the world just has to stop and listen, and that’s exactly what I did.

This utterly stunning, diverse and moving 11-track opus is entirely instrumental. No fluff such as “words” to get in the way. This is one of those rare albums outside the classical and prog genres that allow the music to tell the story. All of it has been meticulously put together with great care and precision in order to create something extraordinary.

Of course, Eddy didn’t do this alone. This whole album came about upon a meeting with Richard Hawley, a far more recent addition to the album charts, and the pair struck up a friendship and working relationship that really shines through. A lot of it sounds very spaghetti western. In fact, in places, I thought I was re-reviewing “Rome” again, but what I have been presented with is in fact, as a collection, unique.

So, the last time Duane Eddy made a record was when I was just a single, solitary one year old. You thought the wait for Chinese Democracy took forever? Double it. But when a Duane Eddy album comes, it just sets to inspire a whole host of new musicians to sit up and do the same. Despite a glut of records in the late 50s and early 60s, Duane Eddy has only put out an album three times since 1967, forty-four years ago. He didn’t need to. He can still tell stories with a guitar. There may be a few modern additions, such as synths but nothing used is just a throwaway instrument to add a needless layer. There’s very little piano (and it’s a piano, not a keyboard), subtle drums for little more than rhythm and a little counter melody. Sometimes some strings and orchestral influences are given a little breathing room too, no doubt the workings of Hawley, but this is all about that distinctive guitar sound the Duane Eddy has made his own.

So it opens with ‘The Attack of the Duck Billed Platypus’. Yup. That’s exactly what it’s called. It’s just as much fun as it sounds too. Frantic and hurried guitars and drums in the beginning before it’s stopped dead in its tracks by Duane’s signature heavy, deep, bellowing strings of glory. From that moment on it remains tense, and very much in charge. It’s a stand off between you, the listener, and Eddy. Eventually a scaled crescendo builds and attacks and there can only be one winner. Songs like ‘Twango’ are a little more playful and offbeat, while the truly stunning ‘Desert Song’ really captures a true, mourning sound unlike anything else I’ve heard all year. This is an album for all occasions and all feelings.

Sometimes it’s just kept typically simple though. ‘Curveball’ really catches the essence of the 60s with great aplomb. Piano, guitar and sax all taking it in turns to nail the big solo with that heavy shuffling rock’n’roll beat providing the foundations.

And sometimes it gets…interesting. ‘Primeval’ verges in heavy metal at times. Still keeping with that distinctive guitar sound, but more menacing and more hungry. You could see the Hells Angels roaring down the highway with this one blaring.

It’s wrapped up with the slow burning closer Franklin Town. It’s a lullaby of sorts winding down the last few precious moments of this exquisite collection. It’s your cue to get up and get ready to select ‘repeat all’ because this album is more than worthy of a second, third, and beyond, repeat listen.

This isn’t just an album. This is a journey. A true Road Trip, breezing down the motorway with the top down and your hair whipping around in the air. It’s warm, and comfortable, and the best part is that you neither know nor care where you’re going as it’s not all about the destination.

It’s about the journey.
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