JEFF KLEIN - The Hustler

A lost, unrequited, longed-for and treacherous love. A sexy, fatal woman promising provocative sexuality.

To recover from the shock of abandonment and drive away the ghosts, there's nothing better than a bottle of Bourbon and a cigarette, sitting in a comfortable armchair late at night. This is the basic scenario, and also the cover, of "The Hustler", the third studio album by Texan singer-songwriter (though born and raised in New York) Jeff Klein, recorded in just under three weeks in New Orleans' French Quarter, before the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.

A substantial musical shift is immediately noticeable: Jeff has partly left behind the Ryan Adams-style alt. country shores of the previous "Everybody Loves A Winner" in favour of a texture richer in detail. "The Hustler", produced by Greg Dulli of the Twilight Singers and Mike Napoletano (Blind Melon, Joseph Arthur), is more energetic and less bare-bones, more arranged and indie-rock compared to the album from two years earlier. The collaboration with Dulli has paid off, bringing new soul and r'n'b colours to the sonic palette, reinterpreted in an intimate, almost "gothic" key. Just think of "Suzanne", a lopsided piece of indie-pop with a catchy melody flanked by an explosive horn section, or the piano ballad "Cobalt Blue", a sinister piece of gospel complete with a seven-strong choir (!), contaminated by electric guitars and disjointed drums. Such a shift in perspective inevitably alters the coordinates, while still keeping the voice (deep, raw and Lanegan-esque, with a touch of Bill Janovitz and Paul Westerberg) front and centre. Another chapter concerns the electronics: synths and sampled drums accompany the album discreetly, without distorting its message, occasionally hinting ("Pity") at new paths to explore.

There are plenty of top-notch guests: Ani DiFranco and Dave Pirner of Soul Asylum on backing vocals, alongside our own Manuel Agnelli, by now good friends with Greg Dulli, on electric piano. The secret weapon of "The Hustler" seems to be its great decadent sensuality, a melancholy experienced strictly "indoors", with the noise of the city vague and undefined in the background. Klein has visibly shed his coffee-house troubadour clothes to step into the electric coils of tracks like "Stripped" or "The Red Lantern", perfect singles that also pay tribute to noisier influences (Dinosaur Jr. and the Replacements). This racket, however, is diluted at times, as in "All I Want", a Cohen-esque confession by candlelight, or the opening title track, accompanied by a placid lap-steel guitar.

Whether whispering or raising his voice, Klein's compositional and expressive talent is undeniable either way, yet another winning bet for Britain's One Little Indian. From here on, Jeff can only grow.

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30/04/2026