If Ivor SK was any more laid back he’d fall over backwards. Laconic to the point of near unconsciousness, 25 year old Sydney, Australia singer/guitarist Ivor Simpson-Kennedy re-interprets Delta blues so faithfully you’d swear he was a muddy-footed native. In a drawl that sounds like his throat is clotted with Mississippi mud, SK floats through a 6 song EP of originals that sound like they were excavated from underneath the porch of some stilt house in the alluvial bottomlands.
Although the Aussie singer/guitarist now calls New Orleans home, his accent sounds more deep ‘Sippi than Crescent City. The title cut mixes deep dish blooze with muddy, tent-revival gospel. On “Help Poor Me,” SK sounds like Howling Wolf with a heartache, pickin’ his guitar with a clawhammer. Slow and deliberate, SK gets the job done like a scaly denizen of the swamp who just clawed his way up on the bank to get some sun.
Hard to believe a young Australian wrote “Missus Green.” As down home as a plate of grits and red eye gravy, it’s a backporch, barefootin’ ode to a backwoods beauty, served up with a side of big foot thump.
He lightens up a bit on “Pelican,” bringing in some greasy slide to flavor up his fingerpicking. But his fingers do most of the walking around here, the pelican doing a funky strut, the slide occasionally nipping at his heels.
“I Like The Way” is SK’s notion of what passes for pillow talk round these parts. It’s the condensed version of love gone wrong in three verses. He’s lovin the way she walks and talks and whispers in the first verse. By the end of the second verse, things have moved along considerably. He’s liking the way she moans and the way her hair lays on his pillow. But by the third verse it’s gone all to hell, he doesn’t like her attitude, hates her wicked ways, her mamma and her whole family. It glides by in a syrupy drawl perfectly suited for delivering insults. By the time you get you feet unstuck from the sticky trail he’s left behind to attempt pursuit and seek revenge, he’s already slithered back into the murky bayou to await another victim.
By the time this too short outpouring glides to a close, you’ll be wanting another serving. Dish ’em up soon, please, and keep ’em coming.
