'Driving' is the term one hears most intimately associated with Eric Sardinas, and it's entirely appropriate, more so in consideration of the fact that his main axe is an electrified resonator guitar, an instrument one works hard at, to push out a bigger sound than a plain ol' standard guitar can manage. Sardinas handles that quite well, thank you very much, and kicks up from a combined Delta/Chicago base before blowing the hinges off the door and all the way across town, sometimes in a distorted semi-psychedelic storm he favors from time to time but mostly in driving (there's that word again) hot blues. Naturally, a hellishly satisfying amount of slide makes its way into the repertoire.
The presentation in this DVD is odd, choppy, an amalgam of what appears to be a set of one-spots intercut with interviews (as ES's two bandmates sit moodily around, silent) but ultimately satisfying due to the spark and fire of the guitarist's sweaty approach, which really starts to take off for the skies in Can't be Satisfied, dark and gritty, Eric's half-hoarse vocal chords stretching alongside his guitar to match the emotions roiling up from gut and groin. More than once, fiery leads go places you don't expect, the kind of obtuse angles Chuck Berry loved to throw into his work, making the audiences sit up and take notice. On the other hand, it's more than evident Eric was smoked and barbecued with the same bayou sauces Billy Gibbons and the Tejas boys lay on the table.
There's reason why Steve Vai and his Favored Nations label chose this cat to recruit and why MVD decided to release this short-form (45 minutes) DVD gig, as there's a funky rawness to Sardinas that marks him as a cat who's not fooling around, not taking up the blues 'cause it's been so appetizing to the white-wine-and-brie set of the last decade. He decided, at the tender age of 6, that the guitar was his life's work and never looked back. Along the way, he picked up the best influences: Johnny Winter (listen to Love Me), Hubert Sumlin, Honeyboy Edwards, and others, nothing but the real thing, not R&B, not Manhattan lounge soul, but 10-on-the-dial bloooooz and the rock that arose from it.
Edited by: David N. Pyles
Copyright 2010, Peterborough Folk Music Society.
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