Delanie Pickering has shifted gears. Or maybe the teen machine from Concord, NH, was feeling like Muddy Waters did when he decided it was his time to leave the land of cotton for the Windy City.
Robert will always be there.
Maybe Blind Willie too.
And if Pinetops’ home in his shotgun shack, he’ll even play a song for you.
Delanie knows the Delta lasts forever.
Most of the times I’ve seen Delanie play she’s done it acoustically, on stage, in a studio or locked into the corner pocket of some barroom, dishing out a blend of old timey blues that rocks you steady.
She was also in high school, just a kid. Now she’s not. Now she has made the bold and brilliant decision to bypass college and dig right into the music world, controlling her own destiny.
For those not in the know, Delanie Pickering is about 18, I figure, fresh out of high school, and for the last two years she’s been the toast of the town. A walking, talking blues singer with flying fingers. She is not of the norm. She is beyond good.
That said, Delanie captured the hearts of blues fans from here to Memphis not only with her picking and jaw dropping voice, but with her maturity. Her presence on stage is remarkable, soot lined canvas hat and all.
I got my hands on a copy of Delanie’s sample CD of five songs from her upcoming first effort, recorded and mixed at Rocking Horse Studio in Pittsfield. I thought I knew what to expect, but immediately I was thrown.
Twenty seconds into “I Don’t Want Your Number” the girl I first met that wore her baseball cap backwards and carried a big guitar had transformed into a woman. Spicy and relentlessly honest, Delanie sings the opening lines, “I ain’t no chatty Kathy, baby…I want you to take me home.”
Smokin’!
Not only has Delanie’s sensuality traveled to the big city of Chicago, but her new sound has too. Less humid, more electric and jazzy, she sounds even cleaner on the blues infused CD, painting a picture of herself she forces us to see.
“Take that cap and shove it.” you might hear Johnny Paycheck shout. “Delanie ain’t no kid no more.”
Cold gin soaks “I’ve Got A Man” the second release written by Pickering. A song that make you wonder what kind of lustful madness her eyes have witnessed at all the music festivals and night clubs she’s played as a teenager. Delanie captures the evil stare of a grown woman growling down on someone fixing on her man. And she nails it.
Then the cold winter winds of Chi-town hits you flush on the cheeks on “Down Not Home.” You ain’t fooling anyone she seems to singing. “It’s in the way you’re moving…And you’re going down not home.”
Somewhere Tom Waits howls with pride.
Produced wonderfully under the guidance of Brian Coombes and backed by professional musicians down the line, this effort is a breakout. Or will be when released.
To the boardwalk we head, where sadness soaks the seaside walls around the dead night crowd. You hear Ray Charles in Delanie’s voice on “Ain’t No Saint.” It’s a slow burning number that locks you in, allowing your chin to slowly bounce as you consider sharing a “black coffee at midnight” with a fellow sinner.
Then, just as you catch your breath and wait for the next table banger to arrive, Delanie brings it all home with the fifth and final song, “Coal Miner’s Blues.” Alone she sings, “The best place to keep your secrets is way down in the hole, to be seen by just the devil and your wife.”
Ah, so true, babe.
And this is why Delanie is brutally special. The number of amazing lines in this 2.50 minute song is more than this hack can handle. Wrenching, soul crushingly handsome, this is the best I’ve heard from Delanie.
Until her next song is sung, of course.
Brilliant work, kid. I mean, Miss Delanie.