Review: Chris O'Leary 'The Hard Line'

Review: Chris O’Leary ‘The Hard Line’

By Jim Hynes

The Hard Line, perhaps a play on one of Chris O’Leary’s favorite records, Muddy Waters’ Hard Again, is the harpist/singer-songwriter fifth studio release, sixth overall, and more importantly, his debut for Alligator Records.

Yes, it’s been a proverbial long and hard road for O’Leary who is a former combat veteran Marine and federal policeman, as well as lead singer and frontman for Levon Helm’s blues band, The Barnburners. Those familiar with O’Leary’s career will notice that he is not positioning this as in the past, The Chris O’Leary Band. Instead, we find twenty musicians and singers in the credits, names that appeared on his last effort, 2019’s 7 Minutes Late (American Showplace). They include bassist Matt Raymond, saxophonists Andy Stahl and Chris Difrancesco as well as guitarist Chris Vitarello, drummer Andrei Koribanics, and keyboardist Jeremy Baum.

We’ll get to other major contributors along the way but apart from O’Leary’s gritty, soulful vocals, fierce harmonica playing, and the occasional guitar or bass lead, the overriding draw is O’Leary’s songs, stories that are often deeply personal, commensurate with O’Leary’s own personal history which is far different than most who come to the mic.

O’Leary, who produced the album, culled a dozen originals from 30, written mostly during the pandemic in conjunction with Alligator label head Bruce Iglauer. O’Leary holds nothing back on the blistering opener, “No Rest,” playing a mean blues harp and taking the searing guitar solo. He sounds anything but the “so tired” that appears repeatedly in the chorus. The pounding pace continues with “Lost My Mind” with the leader’s wailing harp, barrelhouse piano from Jesse O’Brien and guitar from Chris Vitarello who plays on eleven of the twelve tracks.

“Ain’t That a Crime” is the first of a couple of slow burners, as O’Leary demonstrates his command of Chicago blues, of which he’s been an ardent student for more than three decades. O’Brien’s earthy organ combined with Vitarello’s gritty axe perfectly complementing O’Leary’s aching vocal. “Lay These Burdens Down” plies similar turf with Vitarello’s guitar adding poignancy to O’Leary’s world weary vocal. The stomping shuffle “My Fault” features the leader’s harp and the twin guitars of Greg Gumpel and Vitarello along with O’Brien’s pulsating piano. One can practically envision the no-nonsense, not-to-be-messed with O’Leary menacingly stalking the stage, singing “I’m looking for that man.”

The album’s linchpin track is “I Cry at Night,” a painful story that could only come from the pen of a combat veteran. It has a similar impact (and we don’t say this lightly) as Eddie Boyd’s iconic “Five Long Years.” Monster Mike Welch’ stinging, soaring guitar lead and the bottom end filled by Stahl’s tenor and Ron Knittle’s bari sax round out the sonics. A defining element of O’Leary’s past bands has been two saxophones on the front line, but that only appears on two cuts here as we hear again in the rollicking “Things Ain’t Always What They Seem” as Stahl is paired this time with Difrancesco on bari sax, abetted by the lone appearance of longtime colleagues and background vocalists Libby Cabello and Willa Vincitore.

High flying pianist Brooks Milgate is a major driver on five of songs in the second half, conversing with O’Leary’s blues harp on “Need for Speed” and bouncing to O’Leary’s bass lines and James Cotton-influenced harp blowing in “You Break It, You Bought It.” A visceral, haunting feel imbues “Who Robs a Musician?” sung by one who has fallen prey to such an incident.

In another chapter from O’Leary’s past, “Funky Little Club on Decatur” recalls the venue Levon Helm’s Classic American Café, that Levon Helm established in New Orleans where O’Leary was the frontman and vocalist. He also backed famous touring musicians at that time including Hubert Sumlin, James Cotton and others. Just as he started, the album closes in rollicking wall-rattling fashion with “Love’s for Sale,” as Milgate pounds hard, Gumpel again slashes with slide, and O’Leary’s harp blasts away with little hint of restraint.

Chris O’Leary delivers an album packed with convincing storytelling and enough power to light small villages. He fits right in with the current roster of Alligator artists as if he always belonged.

“Lost My Mind”