Rocco DeLuca

The expansive, evocative twang of the acoustic dobro guitar forms the foundation, the cornerstone of Rocco DeLuca's music, the initial ripple that flows from the heart of the Delta blues in ever-widening circles to the most modern rock & roll.
"It's my favorite instrument," he says. "If my soul had a sound, that's what it would be."

DeLuca's debut Ironworks Music album bares that soul and lets the blood flow through its tracks, a blues-based journey from its birthplace on the Mississippi ("Dope") through its electrification in the juke joints of Chicago ("Get Out") and its psychedelic British '60s revival ("Swing Low") to the trip-hoppin' future ("Favor"). Imagine Robert Johnson and Elmore James, Neil Young fronting the Stones, Jeff Buckley dueting with Beck.
"He definitely did his homework," marvels singer/songwriter turned Producer Jude Cole, who signed the 25-year-old to Ironworks Music, the label he founded with Kiefer Sutherland. "He's familiar with all those Traffic and Led Zeppelin albums, and we're both huge Neil Young fans, so that's where we began. And everything else just came out later. I was happy just to create an environment for him."
Music is part of DeLuca's genetic make-up. He learned to play from his hippie father Dan, a wild-living blues-rock guitarist who toured with the likes of Bo Diddley and the Coasters, whose constant roadwork and dalliances with both Hell's Angels and drugs left young Rocco to be raised by his grandmother. His mother, whom he only met for the first time two years ago, was also a '60s casualty.
"There were always albums and guitars all over the house," reminisces Rocco, whose own musical tastes tend to Robert Johnson, Mississippi John Hurt, Fred McDowell, as well as the five-string "frailing" claw-hammer banjo players from the Appalachians, like Clarence Ashley and Roscoe Holcomb. His father turned him on to all the classic-rock greats, such as the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Zeppelin.
"All my dad's records had a hole in the upper right-hand corner from when my mom tried to shoot him and the bullet went right through his collection," laughs DeLuca. "My father was an electric guitar player, but I wanted to go to the source, the beginning. On that acoustic stuff, the lyrics were more felt, the playing more primitive, the effect more powerful."
He mostly hung out in his room, perfecting his licks, feeling very much isolated from what he heard on the radio. "I honestly felt like I didn't want to get involved with a label because I'm not very good at promoting myself. And everyone I met in the music business was kind of an asshole. But I finally decided, if I wasn't getting it anywhere else, I should do a record of something I liked to hear."
He began recording some local demos with a friend, then took up a Tuesday night residency in an Orange County dive called the Gypsy Lounge, where the owner, a friend of his, offered him the opportunity to play whatever he liked.
"I just showed up myself, plugged in my dobro, sang my songs," he said. "At first, I was playing to just the bartender, but within a year, the place was packed."
A gig in Long Beach brought him to the attention of Cole, Producer and also Manager for the platinum-selling rock band Lifehouse. He was immediately intrigued by what he heard.
"He has that quality, something opens up in him," says Cole, who adds that his partner "flipped out" when he heard DeLuca. "The more I listened, the more I realized he was a diamond-in-the-rough here. And that's what we're looking for… The things that major labels miss."
Holing themselves up in the L.A.-based Ironworks studio, a nondescript, windowless building a block from the corner of Western and Santa Monica. DeLuca and Cole worked on his debut album, the first official release on the label.
"They were the only ones who didn't try to change me," says DeLuca about working with Cole and Sutherland. "They told me to make the album I wanted to make."
The results are mesmerizing, a solidly roots-based sound that nods to '60s classic-rock, wrapped in a swirling, psychedelic production that moves the ball down the field, with lyrics that literally reach out to the listener in a moving confessional.
Songs like "Gift" express DeLuca's love of music and his desire to give it freely, while "Dope" is a haunted, devil-at-the-crossroads cautionary tale about the dangers of addiction told from a first-hand perspective. The rocking "Swing Low" is a nod to the power of Zeppelin from the glory of the gospel.
His lyrics are simple, direct both supplicant and vulnerable, inviting the listener to an intimate place where confessions can be shared, as in "Favor," his "favorite song" on the album, with an aching falsetto that evokes Neil Young at his most naked.
"I just wanted to write in a way that didn't come off as preachy," he says. "I talk about my own faults, my own failures, my inability to communicate. I admit I need help. I just say what I mean. I wear my heart on my sleeve. In the end, it's all about the guitar-playing and the lyric-writing."
The next step is putting together a band, taking the show on the road and coming to a town near you.
"I love performing for people," he says. "I get a high off that. If I'm not doing that, I'm unfulfilled. Making the album was pretty therapeutic, but I'm still totally fucked-up. It hasn't helped that much yet. Maybe if I can make some money, I'll be more comfortable and feel more confident."
On the basis of his debut effort, expect Rocco DeLuca to settle in for a long stay.