Gary Primich

The sad-eyed, tough, lovable-seeming canines on Dog House Music‘s cover provide the perfect visual representation of Gary Primich’s gritty, junkyard-graceful harmonica work and Waitsian woof, especially the way his baritone fades into a throaty growl at the end of phrases. Like a lonesome stray, Primich knows the importance of howling till the hurting’s gone.

Primich himself has been forced to beg for scraps through no fault of his own, working through a series of now-defunct blues labels that includes Amazing, Flying Fish, and Black Top. He’s been chasing and chewing on the blues since he was a kid in Gary, Indiana, and his move to Austin, Texas, about eight albums ago somehow shoved him closer to Chicago — think Sonny Boy, not Stevie Ray. He’s known for writing his own material instead of relying on standards, but his horn-driven gems could easily pass for forgotten tracks from some ’50s roadhouse compilation.

For too long, Primich has been relegated to the realm of “musician’s musician”; Dog House Music argues that Primich deserves big crowds, Friday night shows and requests (“Elizabeth Lee” would be a good one) shouted from the back of the room.