"Saints and Sinners" Album Description:
1974. New Johnny Winter on the rack. CBS. Rick Derringer producing. The kind of day that makes you walk home faster, like the plastic bag might start smoking.
"Saints and Sinners" doesn’t arrive politely. It kicks the door, drags an amp into the room, and dares the walls to complain. "Stone County" lights the fuse, and the rest of the side follows with that mid-70s road-grit: hot tubes, tight corners, and a rhythm section that doesn’t ask permission.
Rick Derringer isn’t just “at the helm” here—he’s down in the engine bay with a wrench, keeping everything clear, punchy, and slightly dangerous. Edgar Winter drops in like chrome on the dashboard: keys (and more) that brighten the bite without sanding it down. Willie Dixon had it right: “The blues are the roots; everything else is the fruits.” This record eats both.
Covers get picked like a bar fight chooses its first punch. Chuck Berry’s "Thirty Days" comes out swinging. Jagger/Richards’ "Stray Cat Blues" slinks and snarls. Leiber/Stoller’s "Riot in Cell Block #9" doesn’t mosey— it charges. Larry Williams’ "Boney Moronie" grins like it knows it’s going to cause trouble. Van Morrison’s "Feedback on Highway 101" is the highway at night: neon blur, nerve, and just enough chaos to keep you awake.
Originals matter too, because Johnny isn’t just renting classic songs—he’s got his own skin in the game. "Bad Luck Situation" is short, sharp, and honest about it. "Hurtin' So Bad" slows down long enough to let the ache show, the kind that sits behind the eyes, not in the lyric sheet.
Collector detail that still makes me smile: the custom inner sleeve with full-page photos. You get the music, you get the mood, and you get Johnny staring back like he’s already heard the next critic warming up their typewriter.
Speaking of critics: some loved the speed, some whined about the noise, and a few acted offended that a blues-rock record could be this loud and this tight. Fine. Let them write. This one was built to be played, not approved.