Teddy Morgan and the Pistolas Live at 7 Black Cats Independent by David Pilot
	Once upon a time, Teddy Morgan was chasing the fame train on the blazing licks and cold sweat of a smoking blues guitar. Was damned good at it too ­ see his 1994 release on Clifford Antone's Austin label, Ridin' In Style. Mostly covers there, but you quickly see why Morgan got a shot from the Austin legend. Two years later, the same label worked with Morgan to put out Louisiana Rain, which Teddy says is a disc that brings mixed emotions for him. "There's a few good songs on this. But some that make me cringe. This album shows my progression from a blues guitar player to more of a songwriter/guitar player/singer. The songs that Gurf Morlix played on are my favorites." Three years later, after a jump from Antone's to Hightone, Morgan laid down Lost Love and Highways, and seemed to have really found himself. NPR's Terry Gross tagged it as one of the best albums of '99, and Morgan appeared to be well on his way to decorating the niche he'd carved for himself. But the Hightone deal didn't hold for long, and Morgan found himself back on the independent highway looking for himself and ways to roll out the music clawing its way out of his soul. And so was born Live at 7 Black Cats, a live show laid down at the venerable venue in Tucson, Arizona. Top to bottom, it's a southwest rocker, full of all the influences a desert sky and far-flung vistas will exert on a man's soul. Defiant, rocky, with country and blues dancing a wary shuffle throughout, it's a disc that falls well on the positive side of the live album discussion. Morgan wrote or co-wrote 9 of the 11 tracks here, and also knocked down a standout cover of Nick Lowe's "Peace, Love and Understanding." Outta the chute we get "Lost Love and Highways," the title track from the '99 disc, and it's a hardcore smoker. Toss Roy Orbison's guitar, the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash's lyrical sense, Waylon's attitude, Tom Russell's sense of the desert's ethereal power, and Morgan's throaty vocals into a blender, puree, and get the hell outta the way. Track two keeps the same sense of hurt and spacious grandeur, but tosses in a quick beat and uptempo feel that brings to mind a Dwight Yoakam with a voice to fully flesh out the meaning of the lyrics involved. The Nick Lowe cover is simply amazing. The guitars are a bit fuzzy on the album cut; it's obvious that night in Tucson they were crunchy in all the right ways. Perhaps the downfall of any live album is that the true authenticity of the energy in the room does not translate to a CD. Well, here it does, in raw sweaty intensity that questions everything and in its own way offers answers before the cut is over. A standout cover, keeper all the way. Two A.M. with all its uncertainty shows up on the next song, when it's closing time and the highway drifts lazily through the moonlight across a desert full of hopes and broken dreams. Suddenly the throaty/angry vocals are gone, and Morgan's pipes find a lush and fulfilled place full of texture and longing that just won't be ignored. The arrangement is spare, and the mood if flat-out eerie. A total and complete departure from what's come before on the disc, this is the perfect break in a set that allows listeners to recoup some energy but won't let them take a bathroom break during a throwaway song. Masterful, both musically and from a set list perspective. Then the war's on again, as "Bullet From A Gun" comes out blazing with the feral ferocity of the earlier selections. "Along the Way" simmers with a pulsing blues rhythm and bass line just shy of boiling beneath the surface and the percussion track duets with Morgan's vocals to bring love's violence to haunting life. Things get funky on "Train of Pain," and then "Louisiana Rain" plays the same card "Western Star" did earlier, but from a far stronger hand. Think Charlie Robison's snarling vocals wringing the truth from one of brother Bruce's more poignant songs. Standing in Louisiana rain Trying to wash off Just some of that pain I ain't never gonna See her again Standing in the Louisiana rain Tell me why love just don't last It seems like everybody here Got a broken past The pedal steel takes center stage here in the way it does in Texas roadhouses out west of Marfa, where the Southwest desert makes it clear that out there things are just...different. Hauntingly beautiful, this is perhaps the most rewarding song on the album, the track you'll keep replaying in your head after you park the truck and are walking on towards the office in the early morning's unrest. It's the last respite on this CD, though-tracks 9 through 11 are chock full once again of hardscrabble life and crunchy rock and blues riffs that comprise the core of what heartfelt music ought to be about. If it wasn't for the two slower tracks on Live at 7 Black Cats, you'd think Morgan didn't even know how to relent. He seems the prodigy of Joe Ely and Bruce Springsteen, forged in the cauldron of Sixth Street and determined from here on out to kick some ass and take names. Teddy Morgan was on top of his game that night in Tucson. You can find out more at www.teddymorgan.com, and get both this album and all that came before. There's also the new release, Crashing Down, his new self-released and still decidedly underground album that combines the raw energy and emotion of Live at 7 Black Cats with his newfound love and the lessons from a year-old and ongoing marriage. Check this kid out, but before you do make sure your hat's on tight and your boots are already scuffed. Nothing less will work in Teddy Morgan's world. You can contact David Pilot at: tailgunner-at-rockzilla.net

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