Roy Orbison And Friends by Barry Steele – A Nostalgic Ride That Hits All the Right Notes
If you’re a fan of Roy Orbison’s timeless voice and emotional ballads, Roy Orbison And Friends by Barry Steele is gonna feel like slipping into your favorite worn-out leather jacket. It’s cozy, familiar, but still brings something fresh to the table. Released under Barry Steele’s own label (because who needs the big guys when you’ve got talent like this?), the album dives deep into Orbison's classics while throwing in some surprises along the way.
This isn’t just another tribute record—it’s more personal than that. With a killer lineup including Carl Windsor shredding on both acoustic and electric guitars, Danny Handley holding down bass duties, Gordon Elmsmore smashing the drums, and Barney Williams tickling those ivories, it’s clear Barry didn’t skimp on the musicianship. The whole thing was produced and directed by Lynne Steele, which gives it a cohesive vibe, almost like they knew exactly what fans would want without overthinking it.
Now let me tell ya about two tracks that really stuck with me:
First up, “Crying.” Man, if there’s one song that showcases Barry’s range, it’s this one. He doesn’t try to outdo Orbison—he lets the song breathe, keeping true to its roots while adding his own grit. You can hear every ounce of heartbreak in his delivery, and honestly? It gave me goosebumps. Like, legit chills. When he hits those high notes, it feels raw, real, and unfiltered—like someone ripping open their chest and showing you their soul. Props to Martin Wallace for capturing that sound so perfectly too; it sounds live, intimate, almost like you’re sitting right there in the studio watching them play.
Then there’s “Handle With Care,” which completely flipped my expectations. I wasn’t sure how they’d pull off blending rock with a touch of country flair, but holy smokes, did they nail it. Carl Windsor’s guitar work here is absolutely stellar, weaving through the melody like a thread stitching together a patchwork quilt. There’s this moment near the end where everything drops out except for the keys and Barry’s voice—it’s haunting, man. Haunting in the best possible way.
What makes this album stand out isn’t just the music itself, though—it’s the love poured into it. You can tell everyone involved respected Orbison’s legacy but also wanted to put their stamp on it. And yeah, maybe a couple of tracks lean a little safe, but hey, sometimes safe works. Sometimes you don’t need to reinvent the wheel—you just need to remind people why they fell in love with the car in the first place.
So here’s the kicker: listening to this album made me realize how much we take nostalgia for granted. Sure, we all miss the good ol’ days, but albums like this prove that the past isn’t gone—it’s alive, kicking, and ready to surprise us again. If anything, Roy Orbison And Friends feels less like a tribute and more like a conversation between old friends. Except instead of coffee and stories, they’re serving up killer tunes and unforgettable moments.
Oh, and random thought: whoever decided to include “Penny Arcade” deserves a medal. That track alone could brighten even the gloomiest Monday. Just saying.
