From the first fingerpicked notes of “Hello in There,” a gentle, inviting 98-second acoustic instrumental that opens Dom Martin’s Buried in The Hail, it’s clear the Belfast bluesman’s musical vision is sprawling – and won’t be confined to 12 bars.
That isn’t to say Martin has anything against tradition. Heavily influenced by the blues-rock of fellow Irishman Rory Gallagher as well as Roy Buchanan, Martin is more than adept with an electric guitar in hand. But on his latest studio effort, it’s his dexterous acoustic playing – on a custom-built Lowden (made with Tasmanian blackwood and sinker redwood) – that gives the album a clear sonic identity, with Martin frequently melding Celtic and other folk traditions with a solid foundation of American roots music.
“The first two albums really weren’t produced by me,” Martin explained during a rehearsal break in August, just before departing for a Joe Bonamassa blues cruise. “I recorded them and gave free reign to whoever was behind the desk. This one is more hands-on by me. I stuck to my guns from start to finish and wouldn’t let anybody change anything. I wouldn’t compromise. It’s the first album I can really get behind, 100 percent.”
Other tracks that further the acoustic theme include “Daylight I Will Find,” anchored by a driving Delta-blues riff; the gentle “Government,” a slow and meditative number with hints of mysticism that casts a wide-open groove; and “The Fall,” a clear album highlight that’s part darkness, part light, with cascading fingerstyle lines helping tell the story.
The sonic template is powerfully underscored by Martin’s deep, gravel-road vocals and personal, original songwriting, with lyrical content that speaks to Martin’s upbringing on the tough streets of Belfast – a historically troubled city with its own rich blues culture – as well as a past marked by addiction (and subsequent recovery) and the loss 11 years ago of his father – his musical mentor, playing partner, and best friend.
“That’s where traditional Irish music came into it, as like a form of therapy, as an outlet, because a lot of their songs are terribly sad,” Martin says. “And that’s blues in a different format. It’s borne out of trauma, out of terrible times. Like Peter Green said, ‘It’s more than a 12-bar progression.’ It really is. Blues is a feeling. It’s a color, first and foremost, but it’s a feeling after. Some of the songs I play aren’t classified as blues. I would call them blues. But a lot of people wouldn’t. They’re not traditional blues, but they come from a place borne of trauma.”
Martin is keen on writing his own songs. The lone exception on Buried In the Hail is an evocative reading of Willie Nelson’s “Crazy,” which starts with spare, haunting electric lines in the spirit of Jeff Buckley before breaking into a wide-open, slow-blues outing. Other electric-oriented tracks include the riff-heavy “Belfast Blues” and “Unhinged,” a six-minute slab of blues-rock bombast.
Martin previously was frequently seen sporting a “partscaster” SX body with Tonerider pickups and a Stratocaster neck. But he has since moved on to another Tele copy assembled by Izzy Buholzer of Gulfcaster Custom Guitars. Martin acquired the axe while touring last year with Eric Gales.
“Picture Rory Gallagher’s Strat – that battered old ’61. Now imagine if that had been a Telecaster from the very start. That’s what I told Izzy; if Rory’s Strat had been a Tele, that’s what I want. So he built the whole thing and it looks amazing, and it’s such a good player. He did such a good job. It took over all the other guitars I own.”
Speaking of Gallagher, he stands atop the list of Martin’s six-string influences, a player who made a profound impact on the young man’s musical future. Martin never plays a gig without working in at least one (sometimes several) Gallagher tunes. In Martin’s mind, it’s not just about paying tribute. It’s about repaying a musical debt.
“Rory has been with me since day one,” he says. “My earliest memory of anything was Rory and that sound. My dad gave me a tape – Live In Europe on one side and Blueprint on the other – and I listened to it every day for years and years until it broke and I taped it, it broke and I taped it, until it didn’t play anymore. But I love everything it represented to me as a kid. It was just such an escape, such an outlet. It made me feel better. It gave a sanctuary and a lot of inner peace.”
This article originally appeared in VG’s December 2023 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
