Will Kimbrough 2017:

Bill Toms is a hard working, blue collar, blues guitar playing, soul shouting poet.

He's no stranger to the road, nor is he a stranger to a steel mill.  No stranger to his heart, his conscience---you can feel it in these songs.

Hard Rain is not just a brilliant, post-Apocalyptic Bob Dylan song.  Hard Rain is Bill Toms' guitar slinging, horn blowing, pure soul backbeat band. 

No Hard Rain, no Bill Toms. No Bill Toms, No Hard Rain. 

For the second time, I was asked to come help produce a Bill Toms and Hard Rain album at Studio L in Weirton, West Virginia---Rick Witkowski's place.  Yeah, that Rick Witkowski from Crack the Sky.  Creem Magazine.  Yes, I am a rock n roll kid who grew up with Creem Magazine. 

The poetry of recording this real deal blue collar soul band in Weirton, WV---where Michael Cimino's epic tragedy "The Deer Hunter" was filmed---cannot be overlooked.  Not that we took off into the mountains, got loaded and chased ungulates around---nor chased Meryl Streep around.  But in that setting, in mid-Winter, in the wake of the election of Donald J Trump as President of the United States of America—it all seemed poetic to say the least.

Bill Toms will sit you down and strategize a soul song with such sincerity and seriousness---soul music is serious business when it comes to Bill's art, his music, his band. His band consists of some of the most talented musicians in the music world. Phil Brontz on sax, Steve Binsberger on piano and organ, Tom Valentine on bass, Tom Breiding on guitar, and Bernie Herr on the drums. Throw in the Soulville Horns (Steve Graham - trombone, JD Chaison - trumpet) and the rhythm and soul is oozing from the studio.

We compared what we were doing to our favorite Stax Records.  To the Willie Mitchell produced Hi Records masterpieces---Al Green, Syl Johnson.  To the soul gospel of the Staple Singers.  To the east coast soul of the O'Jays, Dyke and the Blazers.  We wanted to make sure we did not smooth away the edges---not just rough edges---but the edges of the sound itself.  If a guitar was kind of raw and wild---keep that.  If the drums sounded like a man trying to beat his way out of the trunk of a '73 Lincoln---keep it.  If Bill's voice cracked a little because he was singing so hard and in the moment that he rasped like a rusty cog at US Steel---keep it. 

Me, I just tagged along, played rhythm guitar, cheered them on, played some slide guitar, sang some harmonies---and had the time of my life. 

The very night I arrived home after that long drive from Weirton, WV to Nashville, my wife and I watched "The Deer Hunter"---if you've seen it, you know it's dark and heavy.  But all I could think about was jumping up and down with Bill Toms and Rick Witkowski, making the Marvin Gaye-esque party atmosphere on "Going Back To Memphis" in Rick's basement studio, right there in Weirton, by the rusted out mill. 

These are desperate times, indeed.  But I'm sad no more.  The human spirit lives in us all; but the soul shouting spirit is particularly lively up around Pittsburgh these days, in the soul blues poetry of Mister Bill Toms and his real deal band, Hard Rain.

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