If you’ve only seen Julian Primeaux as zydeco accordionist Corey Ledet’s slingin’ sideman guitarist, Songs For the Heart of Sister Flute is the artistic side he’d prefer you to hear. It’s the fiery blues rocker’s fourth album and the second of a loosely themed trilogy regarding how emotional experiences affect the heart. Whereas Sister Flute’s predecessor, This Gilded, Swaying Heart, was about how life experiences affect the heart, Sister Flute is considerably more complex, with the overarching concept being about facing death, with or without religion. Though religious overtones are sprinkled in, it’s not a religious record that counsels or recommends a path forward. Primeaux doesn’t describe himself as religious but is admittedly fascinated by all religions. Primeaux played all guitars on this nine-original affair, including a steel-bodied resonator dobro, bass, organ, synthesizers, piano, and percussion. His cousin Blake Ortego played a gigantic bass drum suspended in midair that resonated and rang out with different pitches.
Stylistically, Primeaux fuses elements of traditional blues, modern blues rock, gospel, and even blistering, string-shredding hard rock. With its amplified ’80s arena rock power chords and twisted screaming, the opening track, “If I Had the Angel’s Wings,” is jarring and simultaneously intriguing in that Primeaux doesn’t waste a second to be unpredictable.
The idea of the title’s Sister Flute reference comes from when touring African-American gospel groups would give intense, emotional Pentecostal-like performances that caused women convulse and speak in tongues due to being in the vortex of religious fervor. If no one succumbed to this sensation, the performance was deemed unsuccessful. (Interestingly, Sam Cooke was a teenage gospel singer in the Sister Flute tradition before crossing over to secular popular music.)
There isn’t a storyline to these proceedings where each track builds upon its predecessor, but three do tie together. In the first track, “If I Had the Angel’s Wings,” the protagonist realizes death is imminent with regrets for what wasn’t accomplished. “Rise Up Lazarus” symbolizes spiritual rejuvenation, while “Raise Me Up,” the final track, embraces death. On the latter, Julian Primeaux’s design was to depict a dynamic gospel group backed by an amped-up AC/DC-type house band.
The rest of the songs are vignettes that are manifestations of the theme. The bluesy “Even the Devil Loves You Most” and “Sometimes” evoke imagery of a raspy-voiced preacher in the throes of a heartfelt sermon doing a call-and-response with his attentive choir. Both express woe and despair, but “Sometimes” dumps gasoline on an already blazing fire with hand clapping, accelerating tempos, fiery guitar solos, and wailing background voices immersed in the spirit.
“Death’s Gone” starts austerely with just a dobro hinting at a melody recalling “Amazing Grace.” It shifts into the haunting tale of how Primeaux’s mother once took her young son to a traiteur to be healed. The verses are quieter and more solemn than the choruses, which erupt with increased volume and overwhelming passion and unrest. Sister Flute isn’t an immediately accessible record to appreciate and digest but given the investment of multiple listens and realizing its depth of writing and content is rewarding.
