Nathaniel Rateliff’s evolution from earnest Americana act to rock/soul revivalist finds the Denver singer move from a whimper to a roar by recruiting a superb six-piece soul band. The beefed-up bluesy guitars, trilling pianos and surging horns have given him the confidence to unleash a lifetime of fury and frustration: on the standout SOB he hollers, “Son of a bitch, give me a drink!” with mad determination, and Howling at Nothing’s fight for a lover’s honesty fires up the sort of guttural, red-faced sincerity that’ll have Jools scrambling for the phone. Aside from Snake, which brings to mind Paolo Nutini slumped at the back of a strip club, the album is full of the ghosts of songwriting greats like Otis Redding, Chuck Berry and Van Morrison, and sounds like it should establish Rateliff as the breakneck bar brawler of the new soul movement.
