They say everything comes full circle eventually, and 40 years on from the release of The Rolling Stones' eponymous debut album, it seems that rule of thumb is irrefutible. Amazing really: we fight the Punk wars, welcome Hip-Hop into our lives and bliss out to Acid House, only for the Britpop explosion to return us to the supposedly 'golden' age of British songwriting and finally get back to the source with the likes of The White Stripes.
Did I say White Stripes? Well, that brings us cogently to NIC ARMSTRONG: Geordie by birth, and (I think) currently based in Nottingham. What's the link? Liam Watson of the exalted Toe Rag Studios in East London of course. Young Nic's the latest product to slip out of the duke of analogue's none-more-authentic studio, and while he wouldn't sound out of place in a collection boasting Jack'n'Meg, Holly Golightly and (to a lesser extent) The Kills, he sounds so authentically 1964, it almost hurts.
The "Broken Mouth Blues" EP makes it blatantly obvious that the important things in Armstrong's life consist of Dylan, The Beatles, Chuck Berry, Eddie Cochran and the early Stones. The title track is basically sulphated-up, hillbilly-flavoured r'n'b in the real old skool sense and sounds like early John Mayall, with Brian Jones' ghost sneaking in through the side door to add the wicked, wailing harp. Isle Of Dogs delta blues anyone?
"As Warm As You Really Are", by comparison, is slightly harder-edged and modern. Well, we're talking at least 1965 here, y'know. It's great anyway. Short, funky and concise with a cool, speaker-warping guitar solo. Like when guitar solos actually had a plot to them.
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"My Voice Will Be Quiet" is the EP's weak link for me, though. Here, Nic attempts a "Sunny Afternoon"-style tale of woe over a jaunty, Kinks-ian backdrop, but the rhymes are laughably forced and it's all a bit anaemic. No such problem with the closing cover of Chuck Berry's "I Want To Be Your Driver", however. It's loud, raucous and features a stingin' guitar solo. It probably should have been the follow up to the Stones' versh of Chuck's "Come On" actually, but there you go.
Sure, it would be easy to dismiss Nic Armstrong as an obvious aberration who would have been forgotten when Alexis Korner's show came off the air, but he delivers these songs with such a relish and passion that - in a world only too happy to worship performers from The White Stripes down to Mr.David Viner - he sounds as curiously contemporary as he does an outmoded aberration. You go figure while I enjoy "Broken Mouth Blues" again. It's not hard, believe me.
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