t

In the four-year interim between Gov't Mule studio albums, guitar boss Warren Haynes has been busy: He played on the final Allman Brothers Band tour, paid tribute to Jerry Garcia with a symphony orchestra, issued an Americana-esque solo album, and played on James Cotton's Cotton Mouth Man. That said, no other music he makes resonates in the same way as what he creates with Gov't Mule (co-founder and drummer Mat Abts, keyboardist/guitarist Danny Louis, and bassist Jorgen Carlsson). Revolution Come…Revolution Go began on election night 2016.

Hard rock quartet Gov't Mule emerged at the height of the jam band scene's emergence into the mainstream during the mid-'90s. They have played thousands of shows and been through many changes during that time – some of them excruciatingly painful. The death of founding bassist Allen Woody in 2000 was so profound a loss that they didn't replace him with any one bassist for three years. Keyboardist Danny Louis came aboard in 2002; a year later, bassist Andy Hess was hired on and remained for five more years. Since 2008, Jorgen Carlsson has held down the chair. Bring on the Music: Live at the Capitol Theatre not only acknowledges the band's anniversary but pays homage to their greatest asset: fans.

Modern electric blues guitar can be traced directly back to this Texas-born pioneer, who began amplifying his sumptuous lead lines for public consumption circa 1940 and thus initiated a revolution so total that its tremors are still being felt today. Few major postwar blues guitarists come to mind that don't owe T-Bone Walker an unpayable debt of gratitude. B.B. King has long cited him as a primary influence, marveling at Walker's penchant for holding the body of his guitar outward while he played it. Gatemouth Brown, Pee Wee Crayton, Goree Carter, Pete Mayes, and a wealth of other prominent Texas-bred axemen came stylistically right out of Walker during the late '40s and early '50s.

The granddaddy of electric blues, and by default, rock & roll - he was Chuck Berry's biggest inspiration - pumped out this underrated gem of an album in 1968. Don't expect a 'Electric Mud'-type thang here, with T-Bone restyling and psychedelizing his best known hits. Rather, it's a pretty solid old-school Chicago Blues platter with a few incredibly stompin' bits of funk.
"Goin' to Funky Town" actually is a traditional-styled blues instrumental, riding a throbbing, slow, lowdown groove for T-Bone to trickle his delicious guitar licks over. Also features a juke joint piano way up front.
With "Party Girl", Walker treads the realm of funk…

The most iconic band of the U.K. glam rock scene of the '70s, T. Rex were the creation of Marc Bolan, who started out as a cheerfully addled acolyte of psychedelia and folk-rock until he turned to swaggering rock & roll with boogie rhythm and a tricked-up fashion sense. For a couple years, T. Rex were the biggest band in England and a potent cult item in the United States. If their stardom didn't last, their influence did, and T. Rex's dirty but playful attitude and Bolan's sense of style and rock star moves would show their influence in metal, punk, new wave, and alternative rock; it's all but impossible to imagine the '80s new romantic scene existing without Bolan's influence. In 1977, Bolan was killed in a car accident, and the band disbanded.

Tyrannosaurus Rex's transformation from oracles of U.K. hippie culture to boogie-friendly rock stars began with the album A Beard of Stars, released in early 1970 when the band picked up electric instruments, and by the time the year was out, Marc Bolan had pared their name down to the more user-friendly T. Rex and dropped their first album with the new moniker. Oddly enough, while the songs on T. Rex bear a much stronger melodic and lyrical resemblance to what would make the band famous on Electric Warrior in 1971, the tone of the album is a bit more pastoral than A Beard of Stars; on most of the tunes, the electric guitars are more successfully integrated into the arrangements so they lack the jarring immediacy of "Elemental Children" or "Pavilions of the Sun," and Mickey Finn still wasn't using a full drum kit, so the tunes don't quite have the kick of a full-on rock band…

The first impression made here is surprisingly not from the master's guitar, but from his vocal, the song itself more of a doo wop ballad than a gutbucket blues. The only kind of T-Bone still savored by European blues fans since the mad cow disease scare barely plays guitar at all as the song begins to unfold, casually wrapping his lips around the lines like a saloon singer with a couple of shots under his belt. But when the instrumental section starts and he begins playing guitar, that's when the listener knows for sure this isn't a Johnny Hartman record. I Want a Little Girl was originally recorded in the late '60s for release on another label, and is in some ways like some of the sides Hartman created for Impulse with small combos backing him, sometimes even featuring guitarists, although never with the edge exhibited by Walker…