Salt Gun - Bradley Boy Mac Arthur
The acid test for a good song is to strip away all the technology; the auto-tune, the programmed beats, the synth pads, the effects and processing … if what’s left sounds anything at all like a song, you might indeed have something. Bradley Boy Mac Arthur has a boxcar full of them and, more impressively, you wouldn’t dare mess up his art with bells and whistles. The one man band is like a dog on chain with enough growl and sinew to gnaw through to the bare bones of what’s real. Portability and spontaneity are his calling cards. Bradley Boy works with a suitcase drum kit, straight-up electric guitar plugged into a small amp. That’s it. In a recent interview he told me that he has worked in 2 piece, 3 piece, four piece and so on situations but fitting in other’s musical tastes, egos and schedules aren’t really up to his speed. You see, Bradley is writing music constantly and is ready to go with something new when the inspiration strikes him; even on stage. Growing up in Durham County, Ontario, he admits to have led an idyllic Huck Finn sort of life as a kid. One of his regular adventures to the bluffs outside of town, where he and his school chums would hang out, lead to the title of the album. They had to cross through the property of a crusty old farmer who, if he spied them, would load up the gun with salt and take pot shots at them. They got stung more than once and the he always thought the name Salt Gun would be great for an album title. Though his wild dawg hollerin’ sounds authentically like gut-bucket blues should sound from the porch of a bayou shanty, the self-confessed hillbilly attests it’s simply the voice that comes out when he sings. On tracks like Locomotive Dream and Chicken blood (a hilarious true story about his lazy hound dog), his delivery sends chills and that’s a true mark of the real deal.