ALBUM REVIEW: Chris O’Leary Traces His Winding Musical Journey on ‘The Hard Line’

As the title of his Alligator debut, The Hard Line, implies, vocalist/harpist Chris O’Leary’s life and career have followed a hard line, but not a straight one. Blasting through a dozen blistering originals, O’Leary chronicles the meandering journey that led him in and out of music, from his time as a Marine in Afghanistan to a seven-year stint playing and touring with Levon Helm’s Barn Burners to a career as a federal police officer and back again to music.

Chris O’Leary (photo by Paul Natkin)

O’Leary first attracted Helm’s attention when O’Leary was leading a blues band while attending college in upstate New York after his service in the Gulf War. Helm heard some rough demos O’Leary had cut and liked them well enough to start sitting in with his band, then offered him a job in the house band at his Classic American Cafe in New Orleans. After the club closed a year later, O’Leary went on the road as the lead singer with Helm and daughter Amy Helm and the Barn Burners. But a diagnosis of nodes on his vocal cords made him stop singing, and O’Leary pursued a career as a police officer for the U.S. Department of Energy. He gradually started singing again on weekends, then returned to doing it full-time, releasing several albums on Bob Margolin’s Vizztone label before Alligator signed him.

Although there are gaps in his musical career, there are no gaps in O’Leary’s sound. The 36-year-old sounds like he’s been honing his instruments steadfastly, keeping a razor’s edge on his hard-core Chicago blues output.

“No Rest” sounds like Albert Collins and James Cotton joined at the hip, hooked up to the same lifeline pumping sizzling fuel they’re burning off by the truckload. It’s the only cut O’Leary plays guitar on, but he’s got that frigid Collins blast going on backed by a vocal that sounds like B.B. King in full-throated roar, backed by a superharp session by Cotton. The Cotton influence reflected here is no mere impersonation: O’Leary befriended and was tutored by Cotton, and the results are as raw and forceful as the man himself.

“Funky Little Club on Decatur” is a Second Line flashback to the Barn Burners’ residency at Helm’s New Orleans club, “a funky joint with a whole mess of soul,” sweetened with slinky horns and Fess piano rolls. “Lost My Mind” is a rollicking boogie-woogie with the band shuffling so hard a misstep at this speed would be a multi-car pileup.

O’Leary addresses the downside of show business on “Who Robs a Musician,” a swampy rebuke for an all-too-common problem for a touring musician. “I know times are tough / You gotta get your stuff / But stealing from the poor is wrong,” he chastises the hoodlum who busted out his windshield with a hammer. He offers the thief an alternative — “Go uptown / there are rich folks around / Who won’t even notice what you take is gone” — before making a recovery offer to whoever made off with 300 CDs and a box of T-shirts. “Before you throw ’em in the trash / If you wanna make sum cash / I’ll buy ’em back / Give you a commission / I gotta ask myself / What kind of sumbitch robs a musician?”

O’Leary’s approach to melding hard-core Chicago blues with soul will keep him on the road for a long time to come, barring interference from sumbitches.

Chris O’ Leary’s The Hard Line is out Jan. 12 on Alligator Records.