Review By Glen Parkes
Once upon a time, Nashville was shorthand for pedal steel twang, rhinestones, and the kings and queens of country music. But here in the 2020s, the city’s skyline hums to a different rhythm. The honky-tonks are still there, sure—but down side streets and inside dim-lit clubs, the air crackles with distortion and thunderous drumbeats. At the sharp edge of this modern Nashville rock uprising stands BLACKWOOD, a four-piece wrecking ball of grit, groove, and raw emotion. And with their debut album Release Me, they’re proving they’re not just part of the scene—they’re setting the bar.
Born from the stillness of the “Great Pause” in 2020, BLACKWOOD’s origin story isn’t one of chasing the spotlight. Drummer/producer David Dicks, guitarist Keith White, and bassist Steve Burgess (yes, the same Steve from The Screamin’ Cheetah Wheelies) were simply old friends writing for fun—until fate kicked down the door. Enter Chris O’Brien, a former coworker of David’s, who was sent an instrumental with the words “Go wild.” Forty-five minutes later, a fully formed track—Inundated One—landed in David’s inbox. The chemistry was undeniable. Chris wasn’t just the missing piece—he was the ignition.
What began as a digital studio project became a living, breathing band almost overnight. By early 2022, their debut gig at The Mockingbird Theater was nearly sold out, and word spread like wildfire across Tennessee, Kentucky, and Alabama. Their victory at the multi-genre Battle of the Bands in 2023, opening for Diamond Rio before a crowd of 3,000, cemented their live reputation. But it was in the writing room, as a common thread of love, betrayal, and resilience began to weave through their material, that Release Me took shape.
The album is a 10-track emotional brawl, with BLACKWOOD blending modern hard rock muscle with a storyteller’s heart. Opener Deliver wastes no time—riff-heavy, sharp-edged, and demanding your full attention from the first bar. Then comes Sidechick Vampire, a swaggering groove monster where lust and manipulation dance together in a toxic tango. It’s dark, addictive, and impossible to ignore.
You Said strips away any illusion of tenderness, offering instead a brutal howl of betrayal—a song that feels like it’s been carved out of raw nerve endings. But BLACKWOOD aren’t all fire and fury. Used to Be eases the tempo, diving into guilt, addiction, and co-dependency with a haunting sincerity. It’s a slow-burn gut punch, preparing the listener for Best I Never Had, a standout track of wounded longing, where broken promises and toxic desire haunt every chord.
Then there’s their inspired take on The Cult’s Rise, a later-era gem reimagined with BLACKWOOD’s signature intensity. O’Brien’s vocal grit rides over the track like it was written for him, while the band channels the original’s urgency into something heavier, darker, and entirely their own.
Closing with the title track, Release Me, BLACKWOOD deliver their most personal moment. A brooding meditation on fractured family bonds and the search for identity, it’s a song that lingers long after the final note. The pain here is palpable, but so is the catharsis—it’s the kind of closer that turns an album into an experience.
What sets BLACKWOOD apart is the perfect balance between force and vulnerability. These aren’t just songs built for volume—they’re built for connection. O’Brien’s voice can shift from a snarl to a soul-baring confession in a heartbeat, while White’s guitar work blends searing lead lines with atmospheric textures. Burgess’ bass anchors the chaos with authority, and Dicks’ drumming isn’t just powerful—it’s purposeful, propelling each song like it’s got somewhere urgent to be.
The production, handled largely in-house, gives Release Me a polished punch without sanding down its edges. This is modern hard rock that knows its heritage—echoes of Soundgarden’s moodiness, Alter Bridge’s anthemic heft, and Stone Temple Pilots’ groove—but never feels derivative.
BLACKWOOD are proof that out of difficult times can come unexpected brilliance. What started as a casual exchange of ideas during a global shutdown has grown into one of the most exciting hard rock outfits to emerge from Nashville in years. And if Release Me is any indication, they’re not just here to play—they’re here to lead.
In the end, Release Me isn’t just a debut album—it’s a statement. BLACKWOOD have arrived, and they’re playing like their lives depend on it. For a band that never set out to be a band, they’ve built something unforgettable. And as for Nashville? The city might still be known for its country royalty—but BLACKWOOD are here to remind everyone that the throne is big enough for rock kings too.
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