Chris Harland strides onto the Oz blues scene, the grand Brit tradition of Clapton, Beck, Page and Green, cocked and ready over one shoulder, deadly as a pearl-handled Strat.
Chris Harland digs the Blues from deep in the Chicago mother-lode: taut, electric, urgent. A blues subtle when it sorrows, cutting when it struts; blues high, wide and gutbucket; a blues lonely as a distant freight train wailing through a midnight one-horse town.
Chris’ voice is tough, husky, plaintive, his blues guita...