Because Nic Armstrong records for the generally roots-oriented New West label, and because the British singer-songwriter appears on the cover of his debut, The Greatest White Liar, brandishing a guitar and a harmonica stand, it's frankly refreshing to hear that he doesn't sound like a typical twangy folk-rocker. The Greatest White Liar opens with "I Can't Stand It," a frenzied raver propelled by heavily processed guitars and what might be electronic bongos, while Armstrong's voice has been made to sound like he's gurgling underwater. It's rockabilly from another dimension.
But "I Can't Stand It" only hints at who Armstrong really is. Working with retro-friendly producer Liam Watson, Armstrong and his backing band The Thieves have made the kind of old-fashioned Merseybeat record that could've come out in early 1965, in the first post-Beatlemania wave. And it would've been a classic. The skiffle-y breakdowns of "Broken Mouth Blues," the insistent balladry of "I'll Come To You," the booming beat of "Back In That Room," the acoustic stomp of "Scratch The Surface," and the uncontrolled sting of "Mrs. The Moraliser" all sound fresh and authentic, like they've been encased in Lucite for the past 40 years.
Musicians who love dusty sounds as much as Armstrong does have a lot to overcome, since their willful absence of innovation—combined with the fact that dozens of acts have already done what they've done, and frequently better—makes it tough for devout rock fans to work up much enthusiasm. But Armstrong has such an easy way about him; his songs are short and catchy, with a fuzzy abandon that's never abrasive. The Greatest White Liar makes the familiar sound surprising.