There are musicians who play, and then there are those who summon.
Ruzz Guitar doesn’t just perform — he evokes. He doesn’t chase trends. He channels truth. His new album isn’t just a release; it’s an eruption — a declaration that the heart of blues still beats, raw and defiant, through strings of fire and thunder.
Titled Shadowing the Shadows, this body of work doesn’t seek applause. It seeks liberation. It’s a journey that cuts across borders, timelines, and emotions, breathing life into a genre that never died — it was simply waiting for the right hands to ignite it again.
From the very first track, you don’t listen — you surrender.
There’s an emotional urgency in those opening seconds, like a floodgate bursting open between memory and momentum. What pours out isn’t nostalgia — it’s force. And Ruzz doesn’t strum his guitar… he confesses through it. Every riff is a heartbeat. Every groove, a glimpse into a soul carved by sound and sacrifice.
This time, he’s not traveling solo. Beside him is a galaxy of collaborators: voices that burn like prayers, drums that pulse like prophecy, basslines that carry you across long-lost highways. These aren’t guests. They are architects in this house of sound — each one laying a brick in the cathedral of feeling that this album becomes. Shannon Scott and Julhi Conlinn elevate the tracks with vocals that ache and soar. Brian Fahey commands the drums with precision and fire. Chris and Steve PelletierSmith bring dual bass depth, while Paul Quinn paints on keys. And yes — the presence of Tyrone Vaughan, Paul Pigat, and Mike Eldred adds the kind of mythos most albums only dream of.
But this isn’t just blues.
This is something untamed. Something alive.
Shadowing the Shadows shapeshifts — it croons like soul, dances like rockabilly, sways like vintage jazz, and cries like gospel at dawn. Some songs hold you gently. Others break you open. One moment you’re racing down a midnight highway; the next, you're standing barefoot in the ruins of your own past, letting the sound rebuild you.
You can tell this music was born mid-flight, between continents, in the hush of airports and the fever of stages. Ruzz Guitar is constantly moving — not just physically, but artistically. He doesn’t settle. He doesn’t recycle. He evolves. Every song carries the dust of where he’s been and the spark of where he’s going.
And still — even as he’s played stages across oceans — this album feels intimate. As if it was made for your room. For your headphones. For your soul. It doesn’t seek the crowd; it seeks you.
Because that’s what Ruzz does. He doesn’t perform to impress — he plays to connect. To reach the part of you that forgot what real music could feel like.
This is not a playlist.
It’s not even a record.
It’s a lighthouse.
A journal written in fire.
A storm bottled in vinyl.
It’s proof that blues was never gone — it was just waiting for Ruzz Guitar to bring it home.
And here he is.
Fierce. Honest. Unforgettable.
Back from the shadows, with something worth remembering.
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