It's the distorted, crunching sound of overdriven amplifiers stacked in the back of sweaty dark cantinas reeking of booze and heartbreak. It's the howl of a grizzled old Delta bluesman being attacked by a pack of flinty-eyed, starving coyotes. It's the black-hearted moaning of a tired soul growling through steely electric strings and speaking in tongues of Tecate. If the Black Keys and the White Stripes were to have a desert-borne bastard son, he would sound precisely like C.W. Ayon, a musician with enough old-school mojo to power a roadhouse for a month. Combining gritty vocals with guitar notes previously only imagined by angels cast out of heaven, C.W. welds ironclad blues riffs with a bassline forged in the fires of Hell to pay tribute to the lost Gods of electric blues. Hendrix shakes hands with Stevie Ray. Junior Brown tosses a pick to RL Burnside. Jimmy Page raises a glass with Hank. It's the way C.W. grew up in small-town rural New Mexico, with a blend of influences sharing a common thread of music from the heart. No sweetness or frilly lace, just hard-hitting songs about love, life, and the blues that make it all stick to the wall. Sometimes, it's okay to just sit back, toss down a shot, and let the blues tear you up. Keep your hands and arms inside at all times, and please remain seated until the ride comes to a full stop. C.W. will be your personal tour guide. Oh yeah all instruments are played by one guy, all at the same time.
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your version of Flash Player.