Jazzier, brighter, and more overtly messy than its predecessor, here the Dr's voice has come out of the mist and stands before its audience. Sometimes, that's not such a great thing: he sounds a bit like Randy Newman covering Bob Dylan when he gets himself worked up, and the result is harder to take seriously than the sum of its parts.
Musically, sometimes the move towards more overt tunefulness works: Black Widow Spider is legitimately headbobbable and The Lonesome Guitar Strangler smolders and ignites better than anything on either of Dr. John's first two albums. The rest isn't any better than anything on Gris Gris, and suffers without its flattering layer of marshy fog.
Oh, 1969, for those keeping score at home. 3/5
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