Kaliopi & The Blues Messengers’ latest single, One Woman One Love, arrived on February 13, 2026 like a well-dressed blues sermon. This is the follow-up to How The Caged Bird Sings, a track that already established the band as very serious about emotional depth, musical craft, and making you feel things against your will. That earlier song was about resilience and rebirth. This one? This one is about devotion. Dangerous, intoxicating, possibly life-ruining devotion. The fun kind.
Musically, “One Woman One Love” wastes absolutely no time. It opens with a commanding call-and-response line that basically announces, “Hello, yes, welcome, we are about to groove.” Then the band locks in: crisp drums, walking bass, syncopated piano, and John Drew’s warm Hammond organ filling out the sound like a cozy emotional blanket.
When Kaliopi delivers the refrain of “one woman, one love”, it lands with conviction. Not in a cheesy Hallmark-card way, but in a “I have thought about this deeply and possibly suffered for it” way. And that’s where the song gets interesting. This isn’t just a love song. It’s a love song that knows love can be both salvation and a trap. Freedom and captivity. Comfort and obsession.
The lyrical repetition mirrors that fixation. You don’t just hear the idea. You feel stuck in it, circling it, questioning it. It’s hypnotic in the best sense; like watching someone wrestle with their heart in real time and somehow turn it into a groove.
Instrumentally, the track shines through the lively exchanges between Kaliopi’s guitar and Wayne Albury’s expressive saxophone. They trade lines like two old friends finishing each other’s sentences, pushing the song forward without ever overwhelming it.
Recorded at Woodstock Studios Melbourne by Richard Stolz, mixed and mastered by Sean O’Sullivan, and produced by Double Trouble Blues Sessions, the track sounds polished without losing its soul.
“One Woman One Love” doesn’t try to reinvent blues. It deepens it. It grooves. It confesses. It questions itself. And most importantly, it sticks with you; like a feeling you’re not quite ready to let go of.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
