He is Eric Clapton's guitar idol, and musicians from 15 to 65 years old bow in homage to him and stare in awe when he is playing his music - a blend of Southern blues, swing and zydeco he proudly calls "American music, Texas Style!" After winning multiple Grammy awards and surviving in the most historic of musical genres, it seems that Gatemouth has the world under the toe of his brightly polished western boots. He could have easily retired years ago to rest on his accomplishments and be just another elderly musical has-been. But at a spry and fiesty 75 years old, Gatemouth is no where near ready to trade in his tan Gibson Firebird guitar for a walker and the boredom of retirement.

While Gatemouth may be at the top of his game, I'd like to personally pummel his horn section for burying the stinging jazz and blues guitar playing by Clarence on his latest record. "Rock My Blues Away" kicks the album off on a swinging, upbeat mood and is made even better by his soulful singing. He does manage to sneak a cool bluesy guitar and fiddle solo, but sax players Tony Frigo and Eric Traub come screeching in to ruin it, a feat they regrettably pull throughout "American Music, Texas Style." "Half Steppin" suffers from the same saxophone overdose that drowns Gatemouth's plunky guitar lines. Having seen Gatemouth and his band live a couple of months ago in a small venue, his guitar comes through loud and clear, even when he's picking out the quietest most subtle notes. But on record, it seems as if maybe a producer or record mixer completely missed the greatness in Gatemouth's guitar lines to make it a jazzier horn-oriented record.

"Hootie Blues" is a good attempt to make up for the wall of horns by putting Gatemouth's weathered voice upfront and giving him a minute or two for a good old fashioned blues solo. His long and bony fingers fly across the strings like a bass player when he plays, but each note is chosen from the heart and with feeling. By the end of the song, all I can hear is those two buffoons on saxophone. On "Front Burner," some tickling of the ivory by Joe Krown and Gatemouth's wailing Gibson are once again overwhelmed by the horn section. In all fairness, they do put down their horns a time or two to let old Gate have his way with the fretboard, but that happens all too infrequently.

The old Duke Ellington classic, "I'm Beginning To See The Light," is transformed into a swirling, lively lite jazz song highlighted by a humming organ and Gatemouth's tender string bending. Still too much in the mix from the horn section, but it's getting better, and it's about to get so much better. A spooky opening builds up to a devilish laugh by Gatemouth followed by some of the most genuine blues guitar work and real rhythm to flow out of his fingers in decades. This song is how the entire album should have been mixed - with the guitar up front and the sax and keyboards simmering quietly but audibly in the background, popping up from time to time as needed. This song's sax and organ solos would probably stand out more if I weren't so annoyed with the rest of their overdone work on the previous songs.

"Without Me Baby" and "Gate Swings Again" both find Gatemouth laying some great jazz guitar lines, and his barely-in-tune voice has never sounded better. The same goes for the last four songs on the album - if only they'd shut the hell up and let Gatemouth sing and play. The one song on the entire album that makes all the sax and big band interruptions worth the price of buying it is "Strange Things Happen," the ninth and absolute best song. Gate's talented fingers pluck a gentle groove out of his trusty guitar to compliment his haunting singing. "Learn to love me or leave me/ Either one you wanna do/ 'Cause strange things are happening/ And I want nothing to happen to you" he sings, like some old American blues legend reclaiming his ground. The guitar lines pop and slide at every stroke of his fingers to sound like a pole cat crying out in the night.

Catch old "Clarence 'Gatemouth' Brown" live if you get the chance. The live sound mix is far more favorable to the ungodly moans and howls Gatemouth can get out of his guitar.