Like anything with Mann on the six-string, the sound is loud, raw, and dirty like R. Kelly’s mind. On CPA in particular, the crunch of each slide-guitar downstroke throbs like a purple vein in your forehead ready to burst. It’s like Bo Diddley, dropped an octave and sped up double speed, played back through Radio Shack speakers, underwater: a huge sonic wave threatening to drown you in its nasty, raucous guitar murk
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