Album Review: "Catfish for Breakfast" by Four Fried Fish
Alright, let’s talk about Catfish for Breakfast, the 2008 blues gem from Italy’s own Four Fried Fish. Released under Velut Luna (fancy name for a label, huh?), this album is one of those hidden treasures that sneaks up on you like a stray catfish in your cereal bowl—unexpected but kinda delightful.
First off, it’s not every day you hear blues coming outta Italy. I mean, when most people think Italian music, they’re probably imagining mandolins or Andrea Bocelli belting opera hits—not gritty guitar riffs and soulful harmonica wails. But hey, Four Fried Fish prove that blues knows no borders. It’s universal, baby. Like pizza or bad haircuts.
Now onto the tracks. There are ten songs here, each with its own little flavor, but two really stuck in my brain like gum under a barstool: “H5N1” and “Homeway Blues.”
Let’s start with “H5N1.” Yeah, yeah, it sounds like some sci-fi virus code name—and honestly, that’s part of why I love it. The song has this raw energy, like someone just told the band their coffee machine broke mid-rehearsal. It’s got a killer groove, punchy lyrics, and an attitude that screams, “I don’t care if you get what I’m saying—I’m feeling it!” Plus, naming a blues track after bird flu? Bold move, guys. Weirdly works though. You can almost picture the drummer giving everyone side-eye while laying down those beats.
Then there’s “Homeway Blues,” which feels like the musical equivalent of sitting on a porch at sunset, sipping something strong and contemplating life. This tune is slower, moodier, and packed with emotion. The vocals have this raspy, lived-in quality that makes you believe every word. It’s the kind of song where you forget you’re listening to Italians singing English—it’s all heart. And isn’t that what good blues is supposed to do? Make you feel stuff deep down in your soul, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it?
The rest of the album keeps things fresh too. Tracks like “Honey and Bread” bring the swagger, while “Monkey Blues” throws in some playful absurdity. Even the cover art looks like someone spilled paint on their breakfast menu—a perfect match for the quirky vibe inside.
So yeah, Catfish for Breakfast. Not perfect, maybe a bit rough around the edges, but damn authentic. That’s the thing about blues—it doesn’t need polish; it needs truth. And Four Fried Fish serve it up hot, straight from the skillet.
Final thought? If you ever find yourself craving some bluesy goodness with a Mediterranean twist, give this album a spin. Just don’t blame me if you start dreaming about catfish doing the cha-cha. Trust me, it happens.
