People often talk about musicians needing to “pay their dues” before they deserve success. Truett has paid his many times over; enough to treat himself and ten friends to an all expenses paid trip straight to the top. Sweating it out night after night in blues bars around the South, screaming into the bright lights and cigarette smoke like the ghost of Howlin’ Wolf, soloing until his hands bled hour after hour, roadhouse after roadhouse, mile after mile.
“I never really liked that many rock bands, so I’m coming at this from a different place than most people. I think that’s why my music doesn’t sound just like anything else,” Truett said.
Is Truett a soul singer? He was raised on Bill Withers and Stevie Wonder and can croon a Sam Cooke song or shout his lungs out a la Jackie Wilson. Is Truett a guitar virtuoso? Hearing him play is like having Albert Collins throw his drink in your face and kick his muddy boot up on yo...
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People often talk about musicians needing to “pay their dues” before they deserve success. Truett has paid his many times over; enough to treat himself and ten friends to an all expenses paid trip straight to the top. Sweating it out night after night in blues bars around the South, screaming into the bright lights and cigarette smoke like the ghost of Howlin’ Wolf, soloing until his hands bled hour after hour, roadhouse after roadhouse, mile after mile.
“I never really liked that many rock bands, so I’m coming at this from a different place than most people. I think that’s why my music doesn’t sound just like anything else,” Truett said.
Is Truett a soul singer? He was raised on Bill Withers and Stevie Wonder and can croon a Sam Cooke song or shout his lungs out a la Jackie Wilson. Is Truett a guitar virtuoso? Hearing him play is like having Albert Collins throw his drink in your face and kick his muddy boot up on your table to solo at the height of his powers. Is what Truett does easy to define? Absolutely not. He’ll take you from the Mississippi Delta to Prince’s Minneapolis, Chicago blues to Bowery Punk, down through Outkast’s Atlanta and out the other side of the psychedelic rabbit hole. That explosive mix makes for a singular experience.
Years ago, when he was still just a boy, Truett was briefly kidnapped by Ron Pope and his band, The District. A child prodigy on guitar, Truett traveled around Georgia sitting in with the band (who had strict instructions from Truett’s mother to make sure he didn’t “drink, smoke, take drugs, or have sex”). That journey marked the beginning of a brotherhood that is finally bearing fruit with “Be Mine,” Truett’s debut single on Brooklyn Basement Records (co-written and produced by Pope). The song features Godzilla-sized guitar tone pummeling a larger than life riff, powered by an angular, sticky groove punctuated by Truett’s hell hound on my trail moan and mind bending guitar pyrotechnics.
Truett is more than the sum of his influences; what he does is unique and spectacular. His work is evocative of many things, but a carbon copy of nothing that came before. He’s classic and modern, new and old, absolutely stunning in his raw, unbridled authenticity.
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