Paste Magazine

Though there's plenty of upped-voltage, alt. country swagger on Taylor Hollingsworth's Tragic City debut, it's on "I'm A Runaway (New Orleans) that the Birmingham, Ala., songwriter shows his hand. Like the Decemberists' Colin Meloy belting French Quarter exotica, Hollingsworth is a fabulist on the loose in the South. Despite genuinely beefy horn-driven riffage like "Little Queenie," which infuses A.M.-era Wilco with garage stomp, Hollingsworth's thin, knowing voice is often bookish rather than brawling. More at home inside late-night highway ghost stories like "Head On Collision" and counterpoint harmonies on pop confections like "Duct Taped Heart," Hollingsworth has found a niche and can only carve deeper.

Dallas Observer

Out of Birmingham, Alabama, comes this Southern-fried greasy punk, all snarling lips and attitude, equal parts Music Details Axl Rose and Keith Richards with a fashion sense copped from Bowie to boot. Hollingsworth's second effort ups the ante considerably over last year's Shoot Me, Shoot Me, Heaven, presenting a charmingly ramshackle loser aiming for respectability but consistently-and thankfully-failing. Featuring backing vocals from Francine Reed (Lyle Lovett's Large Band), Hollingsworth incorporates classic themes of dissolution into his heady and sweaty mix of punky soul and proletarian rhythm and blues. Tragic City is a ride through a dilapidated hillbilly funhouse full of freaks, jilted lovers and stale beer, a place Hollingsworth obviously knows very well. "How come you're always fucking around/Your lips are on fire, your wallet's burned out," he sings on 'Take the Money," with both scorn for his partner and a recognition of his own similar failings. "Duct Taped Heart" and "How Could You Be So Cold" channels iconic influences such as J. Mascis and Johnny Thunders into a swirling Exile on Main Street tribute that doesn't let up until the listener finishes the disc, converted and appreciatively bruised.

Lost At Sea Magazine

Hair unkempt, with sunglasses dangling from his fingertips and looking disheveled in his dark thrift store pinstripe suit, Taylor Hollingsworth could easily pass for Ryan Adams. He might even be able to buy beer with the bratty alt.-country superstar's I.D. if Adams was cool with letting him use it. Which would be a magnanimous gesture on Adams' part, a way of giving something back to the impressionable youth that look to him for guidance and wisdom.

Hollingsworth obviously does. In photographs, the Birmingham, Alabama guitar slinger has Adams' press poses down pat. Look rebellious and bored with it all, as if all this media hype weighs heavily on your troubled mind. Part your lips just a bit for that jaded pout. Don't look at the camera -look-through it, as if trying to peer through the haze of a barroom and the bottom of a shot glass to see what transpired the night before that left you with such a beast of a hangover. That's the stuff. Now go, and write about drinking and carousing, about running away to New Orleans, about settling gambling disputes with a gun and falling for careless women who'11 always leave you for the next swinging dick that walks by. Of course, you've got to live it first, man. That's where the alcohol comes in.

I'm not convinced Hollingsworth has experienced any of it first hand, which doesn't really matter in the end. This is fiction, after all. Still, that sense that Hollingsworth's lyrics lack any sort of credibility gnaws at you all the way through Tragic City, and what's worse is that you get the feeling you've already heard all these tales of drunken gunplay, of hearts broken beyond repair, of false bravado in the face of danger, of romantic outlaws on the lam, et cetera.

Why be so hard on the boy, you ask? Because it's good for him. Because he's got obvious talent as a guitar player and as a songwriter, and the youthful swagger and nasty Rolling Stones-inspired blues-rock of Tragic City will attest to his potential. But Hollingsworth doesn't bring his A-game.

There is great rock 'n roll here, with an infectious Southern rebel attitude to match. Lo-fi and heartfelt, Tragic City is full of the kind of bluesy, churning riffs that drive "When I Get Around," "Duct-taped Heart" and the distortion-fried "In From The Storm," and Hollingsworth isn't afraid to tastefully accent his 18-wheelers of sound with soulful, Memphis-style horns, like in "Heartattack" and "Little Queenie." The raw energy, insistent riffs and stripped-down attack of "How Could You Be So Cold" are reminiscent of Paul Westerberg's Stereo/Mono in that the hooks stand on their own, clear and unadulterated.

You can hear a little bit of Hank Williams in the honky-tonk twang of "Bonnie And Clyde," a real deal, ramshackle country ballad with a gritty, authentic sound that even Adams would kill for. You hear the glittery, gutteral glam-rock stomp of the New York Dolls in "Take The Money" and it sounds as wild and uninhibited as youth itself. Offsetting that is a tendency Hollingsworth has to be too careful and calculating in his songwriting, as evidenced by the dragging simplicity of "I'm A Runaway (New Orleans)" and the overly somber, almost anemic tones of "Gambling Barroom Blues." More bland, with uninspired vocals and a sort of comatose melody, is "Head On Collision."

At times it seems Hollingsworth's songs have trouble gaining momentum. Even when he's plowing seemingly rich fields of guitar riffs, he gets stuck in the mud and spins its wheels.

Ultimately this album is a good start for Hollingsworth and if you want to go back in time to when Adams was still in the embryonic stage of development, Tragic City will show you a rough sketch of an artist trying to grow. In the meantime, if you enjoy rock that's as greasy as grits with tough, meaty hooks, you can do a whole lot worse than this.

Orlando CityBeat

This debut full-length by Birmingham, Ala. baby-face Taylor Hoilingsworth is the type of scampish, unkempt aesthetic that's born of good vintage record collections. Culling from the first three bedrock decades of rock 'n' roll (Chuck Berry, the Stones, Tom Petty), he's crafted a sound that's coarse by design but stylized by his embellished guitar playing. Despite the rough edges and hot-blooded execution there's a degree of maturity, patience and measure in | the way the music unfolds. He's clearly a talented guitar player but has enough restraint to not overshadow the songs.

Massive sprawl ("Like a Cave," "Head On Collision"), low-down swagger ("When I Get Around," "You're Lost"), plaintive intimacy ("Bonnie and Clyde," "Gambling Barroom Blues") - all scales are handled deftly. But perhaps the album's most inspired moment is the haunted, Gothic "Gambling Barroom Blues," which features sparse strumming punctuated by gospel vocal backup and a lonely jazz trumpet.

In fact, the record's all quite good, though its net effect could've been greater had the 14-song list been pared a bit. Regardless, there's simply no denying the lad's got enormous potential. With a debut that showcases his very natural execution, this could be the beginning of an exciting trip for rock 'n' roll aficionados.

All Music

Taylor Hollingsworth gets his first full-length off to a rip-roaring start. A vibrant mix of Sticky Fingers-era Rolling Stones and Pleased to Meet Me Replacements courses through the standout rave-ups, "Take the Money," "Little Queenie," "Duct Taped Heart," and "How Could You Be So Cold," that populate the album's opening half. You can almost hear the clink of cheap beer bottles and the smell of cigarettes on these barroom rockers, which instantly grab the listeners' attention. Hollingsworth, however, isn't able to maintain this red-hot momentum. His acoustic rendition of Jimmie Rodgers' "Gambling Barroom Blues" literally slows the pace down. And while it is full of bluesy New Orleans atmosphere, it lacks the sense of gravity to make it sound convincing. Part of the problem is Hollingsworth's voice. At its best, he sounds like a weaker-voiced Paul Westerberg or, as on a tune like "Head on Collision," Peter Perrett from the early U.K. pop-punk outfit the Only Ones. At his worst, Hollingsworth's nasally voice comes off as more grating than ingratiating. The other shortcoming that surfaces more prominently in the disc's second half is Hollingsworth's propensity for guitar histrionics. During album's first half, he displays more discipline with his guitar work. There is an appropriate looseness to his playing. While full of down 'n' dirty riffs, it also is nicely self-contained. But in the disc's second half, several songs are plagued with overly long, self-indulgent soloing. For example, the album's three closing songs ("In from the Storm," "One Stop Motel," and the "semi-hidden" track "You're Lost") are all sidetracked by flashy guitar work. These guitar pyrotechnics also lack the strong guitar personality displayed in the earlier songs. The second half, however, is not without its highlights. "Bonnie and Clyde" comes off as a solid, if somewhat slight, country-style outlaw tale, while the rocking "Heart Attack" gets punched up with a Jim Dickinson-esque horn arrangement, as well as referencing "Little Queenie" from earlier in the album. When Hollingsworth gets his rock & roll elements right, he can create impressive, memorable music, and Tragic City holds enough excellent material to suggest that this Birmingham, AL, native has a very promising future.

EDGE

Finally, a brand new CD has been released that rocks with swagger and attitude. No, the umpteenth CD from the Rolling Stones hasn't been released. But with Taylor Holiingsworth's first full-length release, Tragic City , you'd swear the Stones had put out its first album, or that Tom Petty was still making viable music.

Tragic City doesn't pack a wallop with in-your-face guitar riffs and bombastic production. Rather, it will ease its way into your stereo speakers with blues and rock elements heard only from the best garage and bar bands. This could be the finest retro-rock tribute debut since the Smithereens put out Especially for You back in 1986.

Much of Tragic City features a live feel, as if you're at a bar listening to Holiingsworth's tales of love, drinking, and getting into trouble. You can picture Hollingsworth putting back a shot of Jack Daniels (his voice emulates the best of Joe Cocker at times), and then going up to the mike to sing. His nasal and gravelly voice can get grating at times, but for once, a male singer isn't trying to wake the dead with high-piercing vocals. Hollingsworth is also an impressive guitar virtuoso, easily playing both blues and rock in the span of one song.

High Bias

Following up his promising EP Shoot Me, Shoot Me Heaven , Alabama's Taylor Hollingsworth kicks out the jams on his first full-length album. Combining the blues/soul/rock & roll sensibilities of the American south with the glam/punk attitude from across the pond, the young singer/guitarist merrily bashes and crashes through rootsy pop ("Duct Taped Heart"), bluesy folk ("Gambling Bar-room Blues"), ragged C&W ("Bonnie and Clyde"), world-weary balladry ("Like a Cave") and, of course, plenty of full-blooded rock & roll ("When Eye Get Around," "Heart Attack," "Little Queenie"). The kid's distinctive voice and melodic sense tie everything together, making Tragic City both a strong statement of purpose and a hell of a listen.