On a breezy Friday night, May 9, Nick-A-Nee’s in PVD buzzed with excitement. Don’t judge a book by its cover, as this small dive bar backs a walloping punch. Known for showcasing RI’s rawest talent, they hosted the album release party for The Devil & the Deep Black Sea, the latest project from local genre-bending trio Texas Street Revival. There are some bands that play music, and there are others that build sonic architecture — layered, lived-in spaces where rhythm, memory, and soul all collide. Texas Street Revival is most definitely the latter. The new album proves that funk can think, jazz still gets people to move, and country can protest; all at once. With a sound that’s hard to pin down but that I’ll describe as “ubiquitously All-American,” the band delivered a night of musical storytelling, funk-fueled energy, and airtight musicianship. If you’ve never heard of Texas Street Revival, I can’t stress how much you need to change that soon. With the core trio of multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Bill Cook, drummer Glenn Alexander, and bassist Mark Garabian, this band manages to draw from a kaleidoscope of genres — funk, blues, jazz, rock, country — and still sound cohesive. Their latest project shows, and doesn’t tell, that remarkable range.
Opening for the evening was Bear Fight Club, whose self-described “garage funk sandwich rock,” a phrase that left me unsure at first, set the tone for the night perfectly. Their infectious, funky energy warmed up the crowd and hinted at the genre-weaving journey we were about to take with TSR. They set the table, and then Texas Street Revival served the feast. And when TSR took the stage, they wasted no time in lighting up the room; not just with rhythm and groove, but with complexity and intention. The Devil & the Deep Black Sea is an album that rewards both movement and mindfulness. You can dance to it, sure. But it also invites deeper listening. One of my favorite cuts was Track #2, “Richard Pryor,” which sounded like a ’70s movie soundtrack and features a sustained string note that gives way to a richly layered soundscape. It’s little pieces of ear candy like this that I really appreciate in an arrangement; not the center of the show, but they make the listening experience so much more engaging. It’s cinematic and immersive, a signal that this is not just a jam band making noise, but a thoughtful collective of talented musicians crafting sonic narratives.
One of the most striking elements of the album is its compositional intelligence. Across nearly every track, there’s a clear dialogue between band members, particularly in the rhythm section. Beat cuts, syncopated surprises, tempo shifts — it’s all executed with surgical precision, but still maintains the spontaneity of a live jam. Glenn Alexander’s drumming is crisp and reactive, and Garabian’s bass lines are both grounding and improvisational. Meanwhile, Cook serves as the chameleonic glue of the project, seamlessly shifting between instruments and serving lyrics that make one think beyond a groove, if one cares to listen deeper. They’re backed by a revolving ensemble of horn players, keys, additional percussion (bongos were my favorite), and backing vocals. The title track, “Deep Black Sea,” is a standout. It opens with nostalgic, summery guitar chords and warm bell tones, creating a tranquil dreamscape before snapping into a catchy riff tied to the lyrical hook, “deep black sea.” Two-thirds of the way through, the tempo shifts unexpectedly — an exhilarating turn that keeps listeners engaged before the band threads us back into the familiar riff. It feels like the composition student’s masterclass in pacing and structure.
Solos are plentiful but never self-indulgent. From short sax bursts to swaggering electric guitar riffs, to sly piano glides and melodic flurries of bass, every instrument gets a moment to shine. These instrumental flourishes are like seasoning in a good jambalaya: essential, and balanced. Songs like “Run Me Down” play with synth basses that undulate in a way that’s reminiscent of ‘70s and ‘80s funk, while “Fat Cat” leans into a New Orleans street parade vibe. It’s bold, brassy, and full of pomp, but the instrumentation coupled with the track’s lyrics give the sense that this fat cat character’s indulgent world is all going to come crashing down very soon. I love how the album’s lyrics, often darker and more contemplative than the nature of the music, juxtapose a dual experience for listeners. It’s for those who want to move and those who want to think alike.
That duality continues on “7 Days,” where country rock vibes and shuffle drums carry lyrics that jab at political complacency and power. “Beware the king ‘cause there’s no such thing,” Cook sings, a line that resonates as both poetic and pointed. Throughout the album, TSR weaves subtle social commentary into their songs; never preachy but always present. Back at Nick-A-Nee’s, the crowd swayed, shouted, laughed, and danced. It was a celebration, yes, but also a display of something rarer: the convergence of artistry and the sense of community the band was able to create for us as an audience. Texas Street Revival not only entertained and got people moving, but pushed musical boundaries while making it all look effortless. Funk, blues, rock, jazz, country, whatever labels you want to throw at them, TSR doesn’t just blend genres, they deconstruct them and reassemble the pieces into something wholly their own. With The Devil & the Deep Black Sea, Texas Street Revival has staked their claim as one of the most exciting and musically intelligent acts in the area. They’re definitely not just “a pretty good local band.” This is a band you need to see live, and listen to with headphones on. Maybe twice more in the car, with the volume cranked up. •
Catch Texas Street Revival around New England this summer, and be sure to stream The Devil & The Deep Black Sea wherever you get your music.