Sea­sick Steve

Can U Cook?

Classic Rock - - Reviews - Ev­erett True

It does what it says on the can.

You were ex­pect­ing a mess of Mi­ley Cyrus bangers per­haps? Get the fuck outta here! As the man Steve him­self says, “Can U Cook? was made down south, way down south, as far south as you can go and still have your boots in Amer­ica. I luv it and I’m hop­ing y’all like it too.”

What the fuck is there not to like about Steve’s ninth stu­dio al­bum? Boo­gie? Check. Blues? Check. More boo­gie? Check. Slide guitar? Check. Blues? Check. Americana? Check. Folk mu­sic? Check. Fin­ger-pickin’ guitar and old-school bluesy laments on Sun On My Face? Check. Wail­ing har­mon­ica? Check. Jools Hol­land must be cream­ing him­self.

Writ­ten and recorded in a con­verted ice house on the dock in Key West, Florida,

Steve is sound­ing as homely and au­then­tic as any late-come con­vert could pos­si­bly want: all the ex­tra­ne­ous shit re­moved, just guitar, voice and the oc­ca­sional thud of per­cus­sion from Crazy Dan.

As Steve laments on Last Rodeo, ‘When the last cow­boy/ rides the last rodeo/I hope I will be long gone/cos I don’t want to know/What a world that will be/ Not for me.’ There’s sun­shine in his swag­ger.

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