Álbum

Trouble at the Door There's a moment on Trouble at the Door where the guitar stops asking permission. It just arrives, thick, saturated, a Les Paul-style tone pushed until it growls — and everything else in the room gets out of the way. That's the record in one gesture: modern blues built for people who grew up on Jeff Beck's phrasing and Joe Bonamassa's muscle, but who wanted the genre to keep moving instead of settling into a costume. This is not a nostalgia act. Trouble at the Door treats the blues as a living language rather than a museum piece, and it refuses to sit still stylistically. A slow-burning shuffle gives way to something closer to swampy rock; a stripped-down, almost acoustic confessional sits a few tracks later next to a cut that leans hard into fuzz and low-end weight. What holds it together isn't a formula, it's a guitar tone and a point of view. The playing is dense and physical throughout, favouring thick, saturated voicings over anything clean or polite. There's space in the arrangements, but never in the attack. Produced by Michael Behm at Palermo Recorders, the album was built to keep that tone honest, present and immediate, with the kind of room sound that makes the guitar feel like it's standing next to you rather than mixed at a comfortable distance. Behm's approach favours performance over polish, letting the songs breathe and occasionally rattle rather than smoothing every edge into place. The result is a record that respects where modern blues-rock came from the Beck unpredictability, the Bonamassa weight — while making a clear case that the genre still has new rooms to walk into. Trouble at the Door doesn't knock. It's already inside.