“Homemade rock ‘n’ roll with a dose of rattlesnake venom and gospel-drenched howling.” - All Things Considered

Michael Tarbox’s songs have what one fan describes as “a spiky backwoods sound.” They’re rooted in 60s rock ‘n’ roll and the music of the American south, and frequently written with a sense of hard-won perspective. Tarbox pulls them together with a guitar sound that’s tough as Texas barbed-wire.

Tarbox’s early musical experiences include playing in rock bands and as a street musician in Spain and France. He later immersed himself in pre-war blues and gospel music, listening to mix tapes while driving a taxi to put himself through school, and practicing guitar between fares. It became something of an obsession, leading Tarbox to form The Tarbox Ramblers. The group gigged relentlessly, playing arrangements of songs Tarbox was listening to as well as his own compositions. The band went on to release several well-received albums on The Rounder label.

Michael Tarbox’s solo releases include My Primitive Joy, Works and Days and Paler Suns, with songs by heroes like Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead, and The Mississippi Sheiks.

A FAN TELLS IT LIKE IT IS

Fresh off a songwriting jag, Michael Tarbox slides into the booth. He’s been up late, and looks like the kind of guy who’d love a cigarette just about now – only he doesn’t smoke.

His songs are simple and direct. “Sparecity” isn’t a word but, if it were, it would describe Tarbox’s spare sound perfectly. He wrote a lot during the pandemic and swears he has drawers full of epic tales at home. Most of what I’ve heard him play, though, clocks in at about 3 minutes.

Imagine trying to build a bridge to eternity out of found objects and pure humanity. That’s the spirit of this music: aspiring and idiosyncratic, with room to spare for heartbreak. Tarbox plays a mean guitar, and he knows how to conjure. His spiky backwoods sound appeals to lovers and gamblers wherever he may roam.

I planned to say more, but I didn’t get much sleep last night, and the coffee is starting to do the talking. So, enough said, I’ll step back. Stay the course, and don’t forget to write your mother!

HOW IT ALL STARTED

Growing up in a mill town, I heard The Ronettes when I was six and immediately loved them. Years later I heard The MC5, and was on my way.

I joined a band, playing bass. When our guitarist moved to New Orleans I knew I had to learn to play guitar well enough to carry a group. I locked myself in my room for three months, playing from the moment I woke up till the moment I fell back to bed. It was the right move; it led to a good luck streak I didn’t know I needed. Chance and serendipity seemed to be on my side.

I was listening to a lot of country blues and began to feel like I was being pulled into another world. It was fantastic. I had a shabby apartment overlooking a street corner in Cambridge, and it felt like heaven. The shabbiness felt perfect, and the view from the window on a stormy winter’s day filled me with joy.

A club, a dive worthy of New Orleans, was on the next street over, two minutes from my front door. The owner asked us to play every Friday night. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. The scene was packed with colorful regulars and eccentrics, yakkers and gabbers and the best jukebox in Boston. It was exhilarating, it felt like everything was speeding up. Things felt haphazard but somehow more meaningful. Light became more sensuous. It was very alive, and it set me on the path.