One of those unanswerable questions of rock history is—why didn’t the Irish master of the Stratocaster, Rory Gallagher, become a superstar? Even before his death on June 14, 1995 at the age of 47, the music world held him in very high regard indeed. Brian May attributes much of his style to Gallagher. Reportedly, Jimi Hendrix answered one interviewer in 1969 who asked him what it felt like to be the world’s greatest guitarist: “I dunno, ask Rory Gallagher.” When several former Yardbirds re-grouped in 1984 as the Box of Frogs, they brought Gallagher aboard, making him the direct musical heir to Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Jimmy Page. In 2010, Gibson.com ranked Gallagher as #42 on their list of their Top 50 Guitarists of All Time. These are but a few of the accolades and tributes Gallagher earned for his work from the early 1970s until 1995.
Then again, Gallagher was far from alone in not getting major airplay during his lifetime. Indeed, he was among a very august company of performers who rose to prominence throughout the FM era, commanded respectable album sales, and built devoted fan bases without the break-out single that would have catapulted them up the charts. Perhaps the real unanswerable question about Gallagher is how this Irish-born-and-bred lover of Lonnie Donegan’s British Isle skiffle ended up sounding like he sprang up from the American south? True, many a U.K. singer and player learned their chops from the masters of Chess Records, but very, very few could be mistaken for having genuine Delta roots.
Take Defender, for example, one of four Gallagher discs coming from Eagle Rock that will complete the project of reissuing the full Gallagher catalogue. When it debuted on old-fashioned vinyl in 1987, Defender was the first release on Gallagher’s own label, Capo Records. Gallagher produced the disc and wrote all but one of the 12 tracks mostly featuring the power trio of Gallagher (vocals/guitars/harmonica), Gerry McAvoy (bass), and Brendan O’Neil (drums and percussion). In short order, listeners might be forgiven for thinking Gallagher was not only raised to shout rebel yells on the American home front, but that he sprouted from South Texas as a long-lost Winter brother, very close kin to Johnny and Edgar. Very strong nods to Johnny in particular are evident in “Continental Op,” a tribute to the mystery writer, Dashiell Hammet. Some of the electric tracks, like “Failsafe Day,” are more rock than blues, but others like “Doing Time” are opportunities for Gallagher to show his slide guitar virtuosity.
From time to time, Gallagher exhibits a sly lyrical twist, notably with “Smear Campaign,” his commentary on elections with lines like “This town is relling backwards like a drunk man on the streets.” But Gallagher clearly enjoys acoustic work as well, with “Seven Days” featuring piano runs from Lou Martin. Gallagher stays acoustic with the album’s showpiece, Sonny Boy Williamson’s “Don’t Start Me To Talking.” The trio is augmented by the harp of Mark Feldham and the barrel-house piano of Bob Andrews. In the main, however, lovers of blues/rock will want to crank up tunes like ”Kickback City” and “Loanshark Blues” and hear a primer of the genre.
Gallagher’s last studio album, 1990′s Fresh Evidence, showed Gallagher wanting to widen his sonic palate. While the core musicians were the same as on Defender, this time Gallagher not only played electric and acoustic guitars, but the dulcimer, electric sitar, and mandola. A number of guest musicians added flavors Gallagher wanted, as with Geraint Watkins on accordion for “Never Asked You For Nothin,’” where smoking Chicago blues meets Zydeco; and, naturally, for “The King Of Zydeco,” a tribute to Cajun musician Clifton Chenier. Gallagher pays homage to two of his other influences in “Alexis,” an instrumental jam honoring the Father of British Blues, Alexis Korner, and “Empire State Express” written by Eddie “Son” House where Gallagher performs an acoustic solo.