Crank it way up and sink into some serious rocking blues as the Brothers throw down on this Willie Dixon staple. Dickey's tone is to die for as he respires through that stratospheric, lungular 335. Warren claws away at his Les Paul with precision abandon. I dearly miss Woody's thunderous attack, which always manages to propel my consciousness to the precipice of a spiraling abyss of true bliss. Gregg is just riding high on the groove, beaming and happy. All of this driven by the quadruple threat of Butch, Jaimoe, Marc and Matt pounding away, rock solid, the very essence of time held true in their hands.
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