Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Sophomore Album Boils with Intensity: Couldn't Stand the Weather Features Jimmie Vaughan and Tenor Saxophonist Stan Harrison

Mastered from the Original Master Tapes: Mobile Fidelity's Numbered-Edition Hybrid SACD Plays with Depth, Detail, and Attack

Like the destructive tornado on the album’s cover, Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Couldn’t Stand the Weather blows with gale-force intensity, moves everything in its path, and contains beautiful moments of calm at its center. Caught up in the momentum gained from his brilliant debut, the guitar slinger comes on with a startling degree of authority, confidence, and swagger that hadn’t been witnessed in the blues realm in decades.

Mastered from the original master tapes, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition hybrid SACD brings Vaughan and Co. into your listening room and basically places them at your feet. The searing tones from Vaughan's ’59 Stratocaster guitar, drawl of his raspy voice, and every strategic bend of the strings are captured with extreme delicacy. The soundstage is deep and wide, and the microdynamics simply pop. Welcome to Texas, Stevie Ray style.

By the time Vaughan and Double Trouble entered the studio in January 1984, the band’s reputation as the hottest blues-rock act in the world had been cemented. Vaughan even declined a juicy offer to tour as part of David Bowie’s band in order to live out his own dreams. And this proud Texas boy doesn’t mess around. Pulling no punches and embracing his role as blues’ modern ambassador, Vaughan’s scorching 1984 record epitomizes his hallmark styles and moods: brazen, ferocious, mesmerizing, cathartic, defiant, soulful, all at once.

Here, in the form of the jaw-dropping version of “Voodoo Chile (Slight Return),” is Vaughan’s touching acknowledgment of Jimi Hendrix’s looming influence. And in the hopping instrumental “Scuttle Buttin’,” there’s a lingering taste of the guitarist’s playful personality and pyrotechnic skill. “Cold Shot” bleeds with a lover’s scorn, but like a determined fighter, Vaughan picks himself up off the canvas and rears, ready to make another go. Brother Jimmie Vaughan assists on the title track, redolent with the slinky rhythms gleaned from rural Texas bluesman and down-home attitudes.

As he did on Texas Flood, Vaughan closes out the record in high style, bringing the concoction of smoldering blues, sultry shuffles, and jukejoint boogies to a simmer with the instrumental “Stang’s Swang”—dedicated to jazz great Grant Green and punctuated with Stan Harrison’s fiery tenor saxophone lines. Gutsy, gritty, and ceaselessly original, Couldn’t Stand the Weather served further notice that Vaughan was here to stay and demanded to be heard.