Music / Reviews
Review: The Sheepdogs, Fleece
It’s been five long years since Saskatoon quintet The Sheepdogs squeezed on to the bit of carpet that functions as a stage down at the Louisiana. They’re no doubt gratified to find that they’ve herded a bigger Bristol audience this time, comfortably filling the Fleece (and what better venue for a band named The Sheepdogs?) on Halloween. Frontman and principal songwriter Ewan Currie begins by apologising for not dressing up, since they didn’t realise this was as big an occasion here as it is in North America.
You’re kidding right, dude? His selection might not be seasonally ghoulish, but guitarist Jimmy Bowskill has clearly raided the dressing up box big time. Resplendent in a magnificent spangly, embroidered two-piece suit with a bright red cravat and a ten-gallon hat, he resembles a fun-sized Toy Caldwell (of the Marshall Tucker Band – do keep up), the late Toy also being a dab hand at the pedal steel.
is needed now More than ever
These guys might be Canadian, but you’d only know it when they play Up in Canada, their hearts clearly residing in the southern states of the US. They kick off with Who? and the absurdly catchy I’ve Got a Hole Where My Heart Should Be and it quickly becomes apparent that newest recruit Jimmy, a former child prodigy and accomplished bluegrass musician, has helped kick things up a notch since their last show here.
His sweetly toned twin guitar interplay with Ewan Currie is magnificent, and with Currie’s brother Shamus on keyboards (which are swathed in the green, red and yellow provincial flag of Saskatchewan, where their US counterparts might have placed the Confederate flag), the overall effect is – and there’s no escaping this – Allmanesque.
There’s plenty of straight-ahead, unpretentious, good-time rock’n’roll in the Sheepdogs’ repertoire, which sees bassist Ryan Gullen rockin’ out with aplomb and only occasionally feels a tad throwaway (Saturday Night sounds exactly as you might expect of a song with that title). But you dismiss them as lumpen backwoods boogie merchants at your peril.
Not only do all five musicians sport moustaches of varying degrees of distinction, but they also all sing beautifully, producing wonderful CSNY-esque harmonies. The multi-tasking unnamed drummer is particularly impressive in this regard – being only a temporary stand-in for Sam Corbett, whose cancer diagnosis caused the postponement of this tour back in June.
The musical chairs begins halfway through the set, when Jimmy’s pedal steel is wheeled out (we know it’s his because it’s got his name emblazoned on it, presumably in case it ever gets lost), the tempo slows and the spirit of (vintage) Nashville is invoked for Let It Roll. By the soulful Help Us All from the slyly named Future Nostalgia album, Shamus has switched to trombone and Ewan to keyboards.
The final four songs of their set could not be more perfectly selected. The joyful How Late, How Long is followed by a pair of rockin’ anthems – Feeling Good and an expanded Nobody, with Shamus now joining in on a third guitar (is there nothing he can’t play?), Skynyrd-style. Speaking of Skynyrd, the closing I Don’t Know is built on an irresistibly sprightly Sweet Home Alabama-esque riff and has everyone howling for more.
Did I mention the Allmans? Well the encore is Ramblin’ Man, Jimmy coming to the fore to do his best Dickey Betts on guitar and vocals. The Sheepdogs could easily coin it as another soulless Nashville clone act churning out tired cliches in American arenas. But they clearly sleep better at night after performing material with real grit to audiences who appreciate the band’s deep knowledge of their rich musical heritage as much as they like to rock.
All photos by Shona Cutt
Read more: Metal & Prog Picks: November 2018
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