Andrew Dansby
Live At Martyrs'

The post-Hendrix explosion of whammybar wankers hasn't produced a single 
axeman who can compare to Chris Whitley. His eerie, bluesy voice and 
American gothic tunes frequently draw attention from the fact that he 
picks like a pissed off Doc Watson jacked through a Marshall stack. 
Whitley has never been one to sit still, shifting gears from the dusty 
beauty of his last album, the spare Dust Floor. This live album, 
Whitley's fifth release, finds him making plenty of racket with just 
his voice, guitar and the occasional stomp in Chicago last year. 
Familiar tunes drastically restructured, a handful of new tracks, 
a Kraftwerk cover . . . you can have your Frampton, this is how you 
make a live album.