Folk and Roots presents 'Monday Monday', a night of the best of the folk and roots scene which will be held on the first Monday of the month in central London as from October 2009. See 
Kim Beggs – BLUE BONES (Black Hen Music BHMCD. 64)
Kim’s was a new name to me, and this record (her debut, I believe) is, despite an accomplished production from Steve Dawson, quite a tentative collection that doesn’t quite work out in the end. I’m not quite sure why, but it could be something to do with the quality of Kim’s voice – it doesn’t sound entirely lived-in, at least in respect of her lyrics which at times exhibit an uneasy alliance between naïvety and maturity. There are still plenty of good things during the course of the album’s forty-six minutes, however, such as the opening song Honey And Crumbs, with its telling combination of reassurance and heartbreak, and the touching waltz-time portrait of a street-person Mama’s Dress, also the wistful hoedown Bring Out Your Bones and the gentle memory of her late younger brother Firewater Bones (yes, there are a lot of bones referenced on the album!).
These successes are balanced by the fun Can’t Drive Slow Yodel, which manages to raise a smile or two along the way, but the intentionally playful jauntiness of Terrible Valentine seems at best misplaced and Kim’s just not got the right vocal timbre to make a convincing fist of Dylan’s I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight. Kim’s cover of Patty Griffin’s Trapeze also disappoints – maybe she should wait a year or two and try again – and even the late-50s rockabilly-cum-pop-vibe of her own composition Summertime Lonesome Blues doesn’t really gel with Kim’s little-girl voice. But her cover of I’m Thinking Tonight Of My Blue Eyes displays about the right level of innocent pleasure to rise above the superficially charming. It’s hard to fault Steve Dawson’s arrangements though, and the ancillary playing, from the likes of Steve himself, Keith Lowe, John Raham and Chris Gestrin, is solid if easygoing; Gurf Molix and Laurie Lewis are among those adding some judicious harmony vocals here and there. There’s enough on the album to suggest that Kim does possess many of the qualities necessary for her to develop her craft into a proper career, and Blue Bones is a perfectly companionable beginning to that.
David Kidman
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The Secret Sisters – THE SECRET SISTERS (Beladroit B0014533-02)
These Muscle Shoals, Alabama-born “true sisters” look like being the next big thing, if the acclaim that greeted their recent appearance on Jools Holland’s Hootenanny is anything to go by. If I sound cynical saying that, well no such intention had graced my mind, for they surely deserve plaudits for their superb sibling vocal harmonies that deliver exactly and authentically what the songs they choose demand. Here on their eponymous debut album, produced by T Bone Burnett, Laura and Lydia follow a slightly-less-than-convincing self-penned opener, Tennessee Me, with a sequence of their own specially considered takes on a host of classic songs from the pop, Americana and country back-catalogue, backed by a team of iconic Nashville sessioneers including guitarist Jason “Rowdy” Cope, pedal-steel ace Robby Turner and piano man Hargus “Pig” Robbins. Just eleven cuts in all, lasting in total a below-bare-acceptable-minimum of 29 measly minutes… and thus not exactly good value – but quality-wise there can be no complaints.
As regards choice of material, well it’s some fairly obvious choices, including some George Jones (Why Baby Why), Buck Owens (My Heart Skips A Beat) and to close the disc a brace of contrasting Hank Williams numbers (of which House Of Gold is specially sublime), all interspersed with some rather more unusual items, all worth exhuming for new-posterity. The Sisters may still be in their 20s, but they can’t conceal their unbridled love of (and feel for) for the material, even if there are some moments when a response seems “learnt” as opposed to newly-minted. Highlights include the Sisters’ affecting treatment of Bill Monroe’s The One I Love Has Gone, and their keen retro recreation of I’ve Got A Feeling (now there’s an obscurity for you!), while they also turn in a light-textured skipping version of the old Nancy & Frank Sinatra hit Something Stupid that charms where their somewhat cute take on Do You Love An Apple? doesn’t quite. (You can catch the Sisters on UK tour with Ray Lamontagne over the next few weeks.)
David Kidman
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Cahalen Morrison & Eli West – THE HOLY COMING OF THE STORM (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Saith the liner note for The Holy Coming Of The Storm: “There’s a natural language of American music that flows from a place where strength and tenderness meet; a place up on the mountain where the forces of nature are striking… yet where life clings with a reflective vulnerability. Cahalen Morrison and Eli West bring us many vivid tales from this place.” Sure, the two musicians evidently share a deep appreciation of mountain folk traditions, and since their discovery by none other than Dirk Powell last year they’ve much impressed Appalachian music enthusiasts across the States. There’s a refreshingly understated quality to their music-making that’s born as much out of their natural response to tradition as out of their genuine accomplishment as musicians which enables them to hold back the virtuosity and place it at the service of the lyrics. The duo’s debut album presents twelve of Cahalen’s idiomatic self-penned compositions (including three instrumentals, for part of one of which Eli shares the writing credit) and two covers of traditional songs: all of these convince, but intimately and gently (i.e. without needing to shout).
The hallmark of the duo’s performances is their close-harmony vocal work, always perfectly surrounded by their expert playing (Cahalen being a skilled fingerstyle guitarist who can switch to clawhammer banjo, lap slide, bouzouki or mandolin with tremendous facility, while Eli’s prowess on clawhammer banjo, bouzouki and guitar is to the manner born), with a few embellishments here and there courtesy of Ryan Drickey (fiddle), Eric Thorn (upright bass) and Aaron Youngberg (banjo). Although self-penned, the songs sound as authentic as they come, from the acappella sacred-harp hymnal style of My Bloody Heart to the gospel bluegrass of Over There, the chugging honky-tonk of Since You Took Your Leave to the reflective beauty of Jealous Sea and the more elusive Fleeting Like The Days. While it might come as a mild surprise that the two traditional numbers (the classic I’ll Not Be A Stranger and the instrumental Kingsfold) aren’t all that well known. Sure, it can take a little while for some of the songs to reveal their charms, but your perseverance will be rewarded.
David Kidman
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Sue Aston – BETWEEN WORLDS (Genius Loci GLCD. 1004)
My previous encounter with Cornish violinist and composer Sue Aston had come on her CD Sacred Landscapes of around a decade ago (I missed out on the releases in between). That CD contained some finely wrought and inspirational music that’s possibly most easily described as “Celtic classical”, and Between Worlds also straddles the boundaries in much the same way. The record label is aptly named too, for a keen spirit of place pervades Sue’s music – as can also be divined through the booklet photography. It’s also a pretty record, though not without its darker moments; it contains much music that’s delicate, and Sue’s playing is typically full of finesse and character, her technique being elegant and assured in the best of traditions. Maybe on balance the classical mode predominates over the Celtic, notably on pieces like the canonically-structured Scenes From A Cornish Childhood for string quartet and the intensely virtuosic solo-violin cadenza that comprises the majority of The Hawthorn Tree.
The title track (which opens the disc) is perhaps a touch new-age in demeanour, and rather like one of those movie themes that depicts, in determinedly widescreen fashion, the panorama where sea meets land (where two worlds meet) where we can feel a sense of ease; it incorporates a florid vocal part (well sung by Maria Heseltine with harmonies from Becky McGlade, although a touch too closely recorded). The Final Homecoming is a new version of one of Sue’s most popular tracks, with an added vocal part that alludes to the telling of a difficult and personal struggle. Drift is a meditative improvisation which features Ebo (Dare Mason) and guitar (Rick Williams) alongside Sue’s creative violin arabesques. There are two mini-tone-poems: Storm Cat, with its strident wordless vocal part, recalls the music of Renaissance, while Crystal Waters takes its inspiration form a visit to magical locations near Tintagel and Liskeard. Altogether folkier dance influences strike home on the charming Mazey Dazey and the klezmer-like Thursday’s Market (where Sue’s backed by a mini-folk-band that includes the sounds of accordion, guitar, clarinet and bazouki). Finally, Initial Bond (which Sue has dedicated to her late father, using his initials as a leading motif of the melody) is heard in two versions: a limpid Satie-esque treatment for violin with piano, flute and cello, and an imaginative arrangement for solo piano by John Thomson that closes the disc. This is a wonderfully varied collection, beautifully played and ideally espousing Sue’s dictum of the unifying power of music.
David Kidman
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Little Miss Higgins – ACROSS THE PLAINS (Own Label LMHCD. 004)
Saskatchewan resident Little Miss Higgins (real name Jolene Higgins) has over the past five years built a strong reputation for her appearances on club and festival stages across her native Canada. With a typically theatrical delivery, she performs a powerhouse mix of bluesy torchy country, mixing standards and her own songs into the pot. Her previous albums – two studio productions and a live set – have showcased Jolene as a charismatic performer, and this latest collection is if anything even more confident and upfront. Little Miss’s own sassy brand of swagger is matched by the boldly coloured instrumental backdrops, coordinated by co-producer Jaxon Haldane and involving the talents of guitarist Foy Taylor (Little Miss’s partner) and a feisty combo that includes horns, violin, clarinet, upright & muck bucket basses and drumkit, with mandolin, harmonica and banjo dropping in and out as required. The subject matter of Jolene’s songs is life itself, and there’s usually a delicious, wry slant on things that’s winning and appealing; she’s clearly much influenced by the greats of the blues-vaudeville crossover (Memphis Minnie, Bessie Smith et al.).
In fact, most of the album is pretty much irresistible, with a deliberately vintage feel that evidently stems from its direct-to-tape recording and mic-ing technique. Highlights of the ten-song set include the cheeky-rollin’ twelve-bar Bargain Shop Panties (complete with robust male response-chorus-line and gleeful mandolin and percussion solos), the lazy-rollin’ Snowin’ Today (including a great violin solo from Blaine Badiuk), the earnest stripped-down ballad My Love, the grinding guitar-boogie of Hope You Don’t Feel Blue, while even the swinging gospelly clap-stomp number Gather My Fruit is fun. Aside from the incorporation of agricultural/weather concerns on The Tornado Song, it may not be the most obvious of gambits to reconcile the album title with its contents, at least perhaps not till the closing seven-minute tumbleweed tour-de-force Slaughterhouse (Revisited), which features some superbly broody twang guitar to match the song’s imagery, and a fine harmonica solo. But the whole album proves that Little Miss sings it all from the heart and (whatever the mood) most persuasively, with a knowing nod and wink and occasional lapses into French for good measure. And it even stands up to repeated play, which this style of musical expression doesn’t always – so that has to be a bonus. There are one or two mercifully brief intrusions of audio gimmickry – the “stuck record” device on the jazzy-ragtimey Glad Your Whiskey Fits Inside My Purse and some silly bird-noises on Beautiful Sun – but by and large Little Miss keeps well over on the right side of hokum.
David Kidman
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David Williams – CHOCOLATE BAR (Trapdoor Media, no catalogue number)
Singer and songwriter David’s a bit of a household legend in America, creating songs for the younger generation and winning awards for them, but he’s only relatively recently got around to creating songs for grown-ups… which may explain why Chocolate Bar, the followup to 2009’s The Crazy Kind, has rather an air of simple, accessible, mildly pleasing creativity that will doubtless endear his songs to lovers of genial, old-fashioned folk-expression in the style and manner of Burl Ives and the folk stars of the sixties, with a dash of classic country along the way and evidence of minor influences from other Americana styles. All efficiently performed and perfectly likeable, and it’s easy to feel in tune with David’s music and outlook on life… probably too easy in fact. His tongue isn’t exactly firmly in cheek on songs like Human/Inhuman, and you can identify and sing along there; when his songs are harder-hitting, they hit a higher satisfaction level, but some just seem to peddle mild-mannered contentment and acceptance, and not always entirely convincingly. It’s not easy to say precisely why sometimes his songs don’t quite hit the mark, for their craft is not in dispute. The first three songs on the disc, including the title cut, aren’t particularly auspicious, but with the gloomier Grandma things improve, and on You Can’t Catch Me David finds a persuasive way of combining defiance with catchy, childlike observation; he likes writing songs like this, and seems to have derived his inspiration much from those of Pete Seeger. In the end, probably half of the 14 songs on this 58-minute album stay beyond their play-time, others overstay their welcome a little and some just don’t make first base (the trite I Don’t Want No-one But You for example). Better are those where a disarmingly simple honesty prevails, such as the likes of Misfits, Rock Shop Girl and the old-timey Old Death. And there’s some neat picking on cuts like Big Blue Rock. David enjoys some companionable and user-friendly instrumental support from his Colorado friends including Lauren Ashley Stovall, Paul Kitteck, Ondrej Sramek, Duane Webster and Karen Carroll, and the recorded sound is full and clear-textured and yes, very pleasing. That may be the problem with this disc – there’s nothing to object to, but equally folks’ tastes are more challenging than they were in the golden age of the sixties and they need something more distinguished to write home about nowadays I guess.
www.myspace.com/davidwilliamssongs
David Kidman
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The Duncan McFarlane Acoustic Band – MARKED OUT IN PEGS (Dunx Music DMCD. 025)
Duncan’s one of the most consistent, consistently hardworking – and genuinely talented – performers on the scene, and he and his merry band (in electric or acoustic mode) should IMHO have been right up there in the Folk Awards nominations for Best Live Band by now. Duncan’s enjoyed a number of minor lineup permutations over the past years, but this is the (official) Acoustic Band’s first full-blown studio CD, and it oozes dedication, graft and keen musicianship, qualities that have wrought hard-won excellence and solid, confident accomplishment. It’s a thoughtfully-assembled collection that intersperses lively but perceptive and often interestingly subtle arrangements of traditional songs with a generous handful of Duncan’s own compositions bearing many of his proven trademarks. Out On Ye is a gutsy retelling of a North York Moors legend, while Circle (Round) For Danny is a tender tribute-cum-reminiscence of Duncan’s maternal grandfather. There are two items specifically dedicated to his daughter Kiera: the reassuring Hurry On Home and the delicate song-without-words I Held Your Hand. (There’s one minor mystery here too: the latest version of Turn The Bones Around, while providing this new disc with its title, has inexplicably been missed off the tracklist on the back cover even though it’s definitely present on the actual disc, as track 2.) The trad-arr items include robust and imaginative takes on Three Gypsies, Cold Haily Windy Night and British Man Of War and Rakish Young Fellow – these all very familiar from live electric-band gigs of course, but by and large standing up well to the more restrained palette available to an all-acoustic lineup.
And one interesting development I’ve noted of late, which manifests itself quite strongly on this new CD, is a more pronounced (literally so, in the sense of more consciously-enunciated) Scottish burr to Duncan’s singing – mostly, it must be said, on the songs with a specific Scottish connection or bent. But none of this observation negates the dynamism or supreme confidence with which Duncan carries himself through the programme. Indeed, such is Duncan’s own distinctive musical personality as a charismatic singer and guitarist that it might be temptingly easy to underestimate the excellence of the other musicians’ contributions: Anne Brivonese (fiddle), Steve Fairholme (melodeon) and Gerry McNeice (double bass) are all musicians who are much more than a hefty notch above mere jobbers, and there’s a truly supportive simpatico that flows between them and Duncan – and each other. But I was particularly struck too, anew the noo, by the marvellous inventiveness of Anne’s fiddling on this occasion. All in all, Marked Out In Pegs is a strategic triumph that brings the D.McF.Ac.Band in all their glory and with oodles of presence right into your living-room (or car) – and it’s a great disc for playing (and singing along to!) if you want to feel good about the healthy state of grass-roots folk.
David Kidman
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Sophie Bancroft – BIRD OF PARADISE (Lisaleo Records LisaLeo 0601)
Bird Of Paradise is the first of this lass’s records (there’ve been four to date, apparently) to have come my way, and it confused me somewhat at first; but after just a few plays I find it completely captivating. Scottish-born Sophie is an acoustic-folk singer-songwriter with a jazz family background, who draws influences from both disciplines as well as the worlds of indie and hardcore traditional musics. To communicate her songs, which tend to “look at life’s cameos from a feminine perspective”, Sophie confidently presents her own musical voice, which seems to coexist in two principal modes of expression that on first acquaintance may appear more than mildly disparate: a folky acoustic-troubadour idiom with delicate rootsy touches, and a more jazz-inspired, slightly torchier brand of confessional folk. Sophie’s singing voice is classily pure, accomplished and very attractive, intimately supple and defiantly expressive when it needs to be, with shades of Thea Gilmore, Kirsty McGee and Lucy Kaplansky as much as Peggy Lee. She has a knack of wrapping that voice round the lyrics in a way that speaks directly and personally to the listener, at its most involving perhaps on the folkier material but persuasive on every count.
Her own compositions, which make up just over half of the ten tracks, provide the highlights without a doubt: the truly magical When The Geese Fly South is a standout cut, as is the bluegrassy (in both idiom and lyrics!) Supersize Me which laments one’s lack of personal control over today’s world, while the traditional-sounding I Carried Your Heart conveys a compelling mood of yearning and time passing and Home shows evident deep affection for same, if a little simplistically perhaps. Other songs seem more wayward in idiom: Occasional China is a nifty, scatty Latino-gypsy number that skitters sensually to guest Amy Geddes’ skirling violin, and No Smokin’ seems little more than a curious electro-enhanced puff of desperation but leaves quite an aftertaste, while its successor, the disc’s title track, is by contrast a song of imaginative self-analysis. Dented develops that theme further to the backdrop of a lone jazz double bass (Tom Lyne), while the disc’s closer, Caroline, written in collaboration with (and featuring vocal harmonies from) Boo Hewerdine, is one of those songs of self-questioning that’s best experienced in a lazy lounge during the early hours. I ended up really liking Sophie’s work and hoping to encounter more someday.
David Kidman
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JAMES FINDLAY – Sport And Play (Fellside Recordings FECD238)
Fast becoming the ‘British’ version of America’s Green Linnet record company the astute Paul Adams catches yet another rising ‘folk-star’ for his ever burgeoning roster of excellence. In 2009 James Findlay won the prestigious BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Award and rightly so on the strength of this recording. Let’s not beat about the bush here, Findlay’s vocal approach may not be to everyone’s taste but striking it is, particularly if you happen to like your folk music a little bit…shall we say ‘idiosyncratic’. By definition, the mere mention of the words ‘folk singer’ conjures for many a picture of a wizened old geezer propping up the bar in a local hostelry brandishing a pewter tankard and with his finger firmly stuck in his ear whilst bellowing out the ‘hits’ of yesterday.
I’m pleased to say that in this case we can forgo that scenario and be thankful that the youth of today are quite happy to delve into the back catalogue of the dusty Child ballads as did the likes of Fairport and Steeleye Span before them. In a display of opulence with artistic merits in both instrumental and vocal performance that would, I’m sure be met with approval by his own heroes Nic Jones and the sadly departed Tony Rose young Findlay measures up well with engaging renditions of classics including “Tam Lin”, “Sorry The Day I Was Married” and “Foggy Dew”. Personally speaking I’m glad that on the shoulders of one so young a maturity and respect in giving credit where credit’s due by acknowledging the original sources (not something I believe has been taken on board by other young whippersnappers) will gain him a legion of ‘folk’ fans…and hopefully beyond. Watch this space!
Pete Fyfe
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Various Artists – OAK ASH THORN (Folk Police Recordings FPR. 003)
This year sees the 20th anniversary of Peter Bellamy’s death, and the new record label Folk Police has launched itself with a splash to salute the memory of this immensely important and influential artist in suitably inspirational fashion. Back at the start of the 1970s, Peter released a pair of LPs (Oak & Ash & Thorn and Merlin’s Isle Of Gramarye) which contained spare and triumphantly simple settings of poems by Kipling (taken largely from his charming Puck Of Pook’s Hill collection). Criminally, these LPs have never reappeared on CD, and at least part of the intention of this Folk Police CD is to render these settings available again for today’s audience, here by engaging the willing services of assorted “purveyors of folk brut and other rough music”. Now this is what I call a tribute album – for it’s one that makes true capital out of being both a genuinely felt homage and a sometimes radical reimagination of the original work/s. Some tracks are straightforwardly affectionate acoustic renditions, others determinedly weird; several I have to admit are downright scary, and some merely strange; but all of them without exception (and this is unusual for any tribute disc!) succeed in capturing the often peculiar essence of the Bellamy settings in the context of the charismatic and often childlike essence of the original poems – and this is quite an achievement, even if you may not actually like all the sounds you hear (there are some distinctly uncomfortable, jarring and seriously challenging moments – but that’s all part of the attraction of this ride).
I’ll try to give you a flavour here: the distinctive voice of Jon Boden opens the collection with a rendition of Frankie’s Trade – but it’s distinctive in that you’re hearing his voice distorted through a wax cylinder, duetting with itself and continually morphing across the ether through the course of the song to an ever-fluctuating instrumental backdrop: immoderately weird! In complete contrast, Olivia Chaney’s limpid take on The Brookland Road is balm to the ears, and Charlie Parr’s sparse banjo-backed slant on Cold Iron even more unexpected a sound. On Poor Honest Men, Tim Eriksen wears his various hats (from old-time champion to Cordelia’s Dad) convincingly and gives us one of the disc’s most cathartic musical experiences. Emily Portman, with Finn McNicholas, provides a nightmarishly sumptuous childhood trip through The Heavens Above Us, while the Unthanks’ chillingly poised arrangement of Oak & Ash & Thorn is pure genius. Then there’s Trembling Bells’ glorious psych-folk excursion through Sir Richard’s Song, while Elle Osborne imaginatively and gingerly treads The Way Through The Woods and Pamela Wyn Shannon “beehives herself” on a crazily beewitching (and quite Williamsonesque) rendition of A Bee Boy’s Song. As a taster for their own forthcoming Folk Police release, Rapunzel & Sedayne offer a powerful, almost forbidding take on the little-heard Harp Song Of The Dane Woman, while Lisa Knapp gives us a spectral, fiddle-rich account of The Queen’s Men that complements Jackie Oates’s delightful (and also fiddle-rich) A Three Part Song. Sam Lee’s version of Puck’s Song incorporates samples of Bob Copper and a skylark, whereas the contrasting tellingly-hued felicities of the tracks by The Owl Service and Cath & Phil Tyler can’t fail to entice even the casual ear. Last but not least, there’s Fay Hield’s marvellous rendition of Looking Glass (the only track here to have been sourced from an existing available record). Every single track is genuinely unmissable, magnificent in its own way and an intensely worthy tribute to Bellamy, Kipling, their memories, the healthy state of “folk brut” (or whatever you want to call it) – and yes, a brilliantly designed and packaged “badge of honour” for this new label to wear with pride. Album of the year already?
Without doubt…
David Kidman
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Andy Irvine – Abocurragh (Own Label AK-3)
A recording by Andy Irvine at any time should be heralded with a peel of trumpets but in addition to his own input what also makes for another significant CD for your collection is the company he chooses to surround himself with. That company on the opening track of the often related “Three Huntsmen” just happens to be Donal Lunny, Liam O’Flynn and on accordion Mairtin O’Connor. In the hands of a master craftsman the traditional tale of three huntsmen (one in particular) being outsmarted by a conniving witch of a woman has been told many times before but to be honest, who wouldn’t relish the chance to wallow in a nostalgic ‘Planxty’ type moment.
The following track “Willy Of Winsbury” (with the melody being composed by Andy yet often credited as traditional by the likes of Richard Thompson who plagiarised it for “Farewell, Farewell”) is a classic whichever way you look at it. On top of this, there are contributions from a stellar cast of folk musician ‘friends’ including Bruce Molsky, Rick Epping and Annbjorg Lien among them. With time-honoured stories that wouldn’t seem out of place in today’s ‘red tops’ including The Sun, the songs are treated with gravitas by Irvine whilst his own brilliant story-telling should be required listening by anyone who has a conscience. In this respect “The Spirit Of Mother Jones” eloquently states his opinion for a wronged militant agitator Mary Harris (originally from Cork) who fought for the rights of migrant workers in America. It’s a great piece of writing that on reading the sleeve-notes makes you want to find out more about this fascinating character. This is an album that will not only engage you by its all-encompassing splendour but also hopefully make you think about everyday life and the consequences paid by the few who have tried to make a ‘real’ difference. David and Nick please take note!
Pete Fyfe
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Elle Osborne – GOOD GRIEF (EP) (Folk Police Recordings FPR. 002)
Good grief indeed; for I was almost despairing of ever hearing again from compelling fiddle-singer, composer and songwriter Elle. The disc’s title is meant to be taken literally too, in all its multi-edged connotations – “drawing attention to good times disguised as hard times, progress disguised as destruction and the relief of survival”. For, I’m glad to report, almost against the odds Elle has survived through into 2011. Just over a decade ago, she released a seriously potent, if slightly abrasive and distinctly-acquired-taste album, Testimony (which deservedly featured in the fRoots Best-Of-Year Critics’ Poll), then as far as recordings went there was silence, with only the occasional experimental website download track to keep her profile alive until a track from her “folk noise duo” Lindsey Woolsey appeared on the Lal Waterson tribute album Migrating Bird.
It was only on recovery from a serious car crash (in 2008) that Elle began performing again last year, and now at long last we have a new recording, a pithy four-track EP-taster for a forthcoming full-length album. It certainly puts her strikingly individual talent back in the forefront, but it probably won’t be a record to convince unbelievers or win her new friends, for even I – who firmly believe in Elle’s talent – found some of its modest 15-minute timespan quite tough going. When Elle’s at her most persuasive, though, as on the miniature masterpiece The Time Of The Small Sun, the effect is genuinely mesmerising, and her fiddle playing on Wise Eyes Wide is particularly hypnotic (this song almost has the air of an ancient Appalachian ballad), although the extent of tremulous vibrato in her singing on this latter track may not appeal to everyone. On the opening and closing tracks, although Elle’s themes and melodic contours are still clearly inspired by primeval folk tradition, the mood is altogether more experimental and less overtly tradition-inspired perhaps: a kind of aural collage. Elle’s use of found-sound samples, though creative, doesn’t always satisfy through repeated play of the tracks concerned; although the sense of atmosphere created by dripping water and birds and bees on The Icehouse is tangible, being well controlled and in context, the insistent, all-pervasive lapping waters on The Boatman rather quickly become intrusive. Elle’s music is challenging, but for those of an open mind, potentially very rewarding. To be filed with elements of psych-folk, wyrd-folk and nu-folk, but Elle’s really in a sub-genre all her own, along with the likes of Sharron Kraus and Army Of Briars.
David Kidman
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JIM CAUSLEY – Dumnonia (Wild Goose Records WGS 377 CD)
Fancy a round of Call My Bluff?: Dumnonia is neither an incurable affliction involving a total loss of voice, nor a term denoting the essence of elephants, but instead the south-western kingdom of the Dumnonii, a Celtic tribe from around and after the time of the Roman occupation, from whom the modern county of Devon derives its own name. It aptly betokens Jim’s aim to shine light on lesser known songs from Devonshire: an entirely laudable aim, and one which he fulfils with consummate ease and an engaging, easy maturity.
Jim’s timely return to “home territory” has been marked by recent touring with fellow-south-westerner Steve Knightley of course, but his stints with Mawkin and the Under One Sky combo have also clearly informed his performing stature in the intervening years, and his vocal and instrumental confidence seem to have grown apace in terms of identifying exactly the right amount of sensitivity with which to lace his interpretation of his chosen songs. A stunning example of this is his treatment of a pair of deeply reflective Cyril Tawney songs, In The Sidings and Tamar Valley Requiem, where he displays an intense empathy with the plight of the displaced workers that belies his tender years. Traditional balladry is also fast becoming Jim’s forte, as his superbly pointed delivery of The Royal Comrade (effectively done to just a simple accordion drone accompaniment) demonstrates; in fact, here and occasionally elsewhere too, I was reminded of the poised assurance of Tony Rose in Jim’s delivery, his own brand of what I might call genial gravitas.
A different kind of assurance shines through Jim’s treatment of Martin Graebe’s wonderful composition Honiton Lace, also the familiar ballad of Georgie, which sports a rather unusual minor-key tune, while Jim’s way with lighter material like Little Ball Of Yarn is most fetching (helped along nicely by the jolly skitterings of The Dartmoor Pixie Band, who also contribute suitably authentic rustic “squeezing, plucking and vocals” to a handful of other tracks including a supremely cheeky waltz-time account of She Moved Through The Fair and a sprightly, footloose account of Exmoor Anthem). Elsewhere on the album Jim enjoys further fine support from Jeff Gillett (guitar, mandola), Nick Wyke & Becki Driscoll (fiddle, viola, cello, lyre and vocals) and Pete Flood (percussion), and some lusty chorus singing from Tom & Barbara Brown, Jackie Oates, Joe Sartin and Doug & Jennie Bailey (notably on the acappella Old Threshing Mill). Mention of so many comparatively familiar songs thus far should not deflect from my observation that the bulk of the remainder of Jim’s selection delves into the more obscure local byways of West Country song, including many collected by Baring Gould.
Jim’s liner notes amplify some of the stories behind the songs, focusing also on the fascinating way the songs had migrated, morphed and become localised on their travels, and the attractive artwork is typical of the label’s approach in its astute reflection of the disc’s contents. A thoughtful and well-presented collection that will I’m sure prove a milestone in Jim’s career.
David Kidman
Pete Fyfe
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ALAN REID – Recollection (Temple Records COMD2103)
This CD represents a nostalgic look-back over many years of creative input from Battlefield Band’s longest serving member Alan Reid. Now, I’ve been following the band since I first saw them at The Half Moon in Putney humping (and you don’t hear that term used in the way it was originally intended much these days) his harmonium on stage and ‘that’ very first recording on the French record label Arfolk…yes, I go back that far…and I for one can say how enjoyable this experience has been.
Of course, in company with band mates including BrianMcNeill, Davey Steele, John McCusker and Mike Katz it was not only his keyboard accompaniment to the powerful instrumentals but his own contributions in the singer/song-writing department that has inspired a whole generation of Celt-ophiles to take up pen and paper. With a choice of songs as long as your arm to choose from he has selected eighteen tracks to represent his career with the band. Including as it does “The Road Of Tears”, “Jenny O’The Braes” and “The Pleasure Will Be Mine” these are but the tip of the iceberg on an album of treasures and I’m pleased to say that his work will continue (even if it is without the Batties) and prosper in whoever’s company he chooses to collaborate with.
Pete Fyfe
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Celtic Connections- a writer’s love affair
I came back from my seventh Celtic Connections festival at the weekend; a glorious excuse to party in Glasgow in the dull grey month of January. There are many statistics to quote: fifteen hundred artists; fourteen venues; eighteen days and countless musical genres; all of them valid reasons for inclusion in any article, but it’s my love affair with this festival that makes me ignore the inner critic begging for impartiality, throw caution to the wind and tell everyone else why this festival is one of the highlights of my year.
Seven years ago I travelled up for Transatlantic Sessions, knowing very little about how this festival worked. I went only for the day, assuming it would be just another job, but got caught up in Festival Club and I was hooked. And maybe that’s what makes Celtic Connections so popular. Others talk about the Celtic bubble that people live in whilst attending the festival, the nocturnal lifestyle that many adapt to during the two weeks that it runs for, but it’s more than that. Bubbles burst eventually, but Celtic stays with you throughout the year, willing you to return in twelve months time.
For it is the festival’s ability to meld itself around you, to fit around your needs and fulfil desires you often didn’t know you had, that makes Celtic Connections the success that it is. Whether you’re a party animal that wants to dance until four am at Festival Club, never quite knowing or caring who is going to be on stage next; or an early riser that appreciates workshops, radio shows and a stroll around the displays at the Concert Halls, the festival has something for you. Whether you’re seventy five or twenty five, like to sit down in the Strathclyde Suite or jump around in the Fruitmarket, the festival has a venue for you too. And we haven’t even talked about the music yet… For me, part of the joy of Celtic Connections is seeing musicians out at the same gigs that you are, which is surely a reflection of the quality of the music available at this event. Eddi Reader and Rosanne Cash watching Transatlantic Sessions, Aidan O’Rourke watching Angus Lyon, Ross Ainslie watching Future Trad Collective, Calum MacCrimmon watching Niteworks, the list goes on and on, without even mentioning those in less formal settings like the Late Night Sessions or Festival Club.
There has been criticism that the programme isn’t always ‘Celtic’ enough- whatever that means. Does it mean every show needs a piper, or just someone Scottish?
Who knows?
Such accusations could equally be levelled at the Cambridge Folk Festival or the Brecon Jazz festival. Surely the job of every good festival is to constantly evolve, encouraging new visitors each year as well as welcoming back the regulars?
Musical director Donald Shaw seems to do both, welcoming acts as diverse as Fishermen’s Friends, Zakir Hussain and Mavis Staples, as well as favourites like The Treacherous Orchestra and The Waterboys.
A friend recently bought tickets for her parents who were celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. They travelled up from Essex, went to see Fishermen’s Friends and afterwards to the Late Night Sessions loving it so much they will be returning in 2012. I go to Celtic Connections every year knowing that I’ll be able to see Transatlantic Sessions, dance at Festival Club, and watch some of the best musicians in the world perform. You should go too…
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Fairport Convention – Festival Bell (Matty Grooves Records MGCD050)
For those that weren’t sure (or are just into a bit of trivia) at last count Fairport Convention have recorded a staggering twenty-seven ‘official’ studio and live albums and excluding the ‘lost in action’ “Manor Album” makes “Festival Bell” their twenty-eighth to date. How they have managed to hold everything together for so long is quite beyond me. Perhaps it’s the fact that every now and then they inject themselves with some kind of longevity serum and kick-start the latest episode with a batch of new songs and tunes.
The majority of the writing credits these days are equally spread between Ric Sanders and Chris Leslie with occasional contributions from their pals Ralph McTell, Chris While, Richard Shindell, Carolyn & Mark Evans and Sandy Denny who is fondly remembered with a reprise of “Rising For The Moon”.
With Mr Leslie on board as storyteller in chief his ballad writing is given the strength and conviction it requires from Simon Nicol’s rendering of the ill-fated tale of HMS Investigator’s failed attempt to find Lord Franklin. Buoyed by the reflective rhythm section of Dave Pegg and Gerry Conway, this chilling tale (I suppose it would have to be as it’s based in Canada) is excellently articulated in the song “Mercy Bay”. Of course, as with most Fairport albums there is a balance to the ‘rock-opera’ ballads and on this album the light relief comes in the form of “Ukulele Central”. Mob handed, our heroes spar with their own particular hero Joe Brown and even a guest appearance from Frank Skinner and whilst name-dropping the likes of George Formby and Betty Grable there’s sadly no mention of Israel Kamakawiwo’oles. Come to think of it there may have been a problem getting his name to rhyme? For Fairport fans everywhere and even those who haven’t yet discovered the band’s music this is a welcome addition to anyone’s CD collection.
Pete Fyfe
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Tom McElogue & Paddy Kerr – The Long Hard Road (TMc Productions)
Flautist Tom McElvogue is a name highly regarded by many musicians on the Celtic ‘session’ circuit. His tunes are often credited by those that should know better as traditional but in a back-handed sort of way what finer compliment can a musician have than for your own melodies to be soaked up sponge-like into the tradition.
Come to think of it the same thing happened to Hughie Jones “Ellen Vannin Tragedy” many years before. On this CD, Tom is accompanied by Paddy Kerr’s precise, but never boring bouzouki, guitar and bodhran where required and it’s really refreshing to hear the full beauty of the melody unadorned by flashy displays of decoration. This recording proves to be a real joy as the emphasis is placed on sets of tunes which wouldn’t be out of place performed at an Irish Step Dance class bringing back fond memories of my own experiences working with accordionist James Montgomery and ‘Doctor’ Michael Moriarty who often used Tom’s tunes in their sets as well. This is an album that perhaps non-musicians might judge too quickly as stark but personally speaking if you are looking for an articulate and artistic approach without all the bells and whistles I’d say you’ve come to the right place.
Pete Fyfe
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Three Mile Stone – Three Mile Stone (Own Label 3MS001)
There’s something very uplifting in a performance that doesn’t try too hard and doesn’t have to in order to gain the listeners attention. This debut recording by Three Mile Stone is a case in point. Featuring the talented trio of Erin Shrader (fiddle/vocals/mandolin), Richard Mandel (guitar/tenor banjo) and Marla Fibish (mandolin/accordion/tenor guitar/vocals) the performances are spirited without being too flashy and the vocals, as on “Heather On The Moor” are delightfully exuberant and flowing without being nauseatingly ‘mannered’ as is often the case with a lot of ‘folk’ singers these days.
The group sound as if they are having a great time in a relaxed atmosphere more than likely resulting from John Doyle’s production skills who also adds a splash of colour with his mandola on one track. I’m sure Doyle didn’t have too much of a problem coaxing the best out of the protagonists as each musician is thoroughly enjoying herself (himself) sparking off each other’s personalities without trying to be too clever. Restraint is a hard thing to master if you have a competitive nature but there is none of that in evidence here letting the strength of the melodies shine through as on Marla’s triplet led mandolin set-piece “Wheels Of The World”. Not since the days I used to follow the early ‘acoustic’ Stockton’s Wing have I enjoyed an album that breaths life into traditional music without really trying.
Pete Fyfe
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Various Artists – FOLK AWARDS 2011 (Proper PROPERFOLK. 11)
Every year now, along comes a neat little box housing a good-value budge compilation of music from the artists nominated for the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards, which have become something of an institution (if a contentious one among “true” folkies, it must be said). Every year, arguments rage about who should and should not have been nominated, and then about the actual winners; the most frequently-heard complaint – and not without a great deal of justification, I feel – is that “the usual suspects” always seem to crop up, and very few other worthy artists get a look-in. There’s certainly a sense of déjà-vu yet again about this year’s list of nominees, with several “same old” names repeated from last year (and one or two from the year before). That doesn’t mean any of them are at all rubbish in the slightest – but hey, let’s look outside the box please… Anyway, to this year’s celebratory CD release.
The 2011 edition is slimmer, taking up just one normal-size jewel-case instead of last year’s chunky three-disc box we only get two discs, with what would’ve been the contents of the third disc (the still-unrecorded acts that featured in the year’s Young Folk Awards finals) scattered amongst the star names on the two discs. Even these (and only four are represented this time) prove quite disappointing musically, the only one to really honestly inspire being the sibling-partnership of Mairi & Steaphanaidh Chaimbeul. But amongst the disappointments there are some good choices; for example, I would heartily agree with the nomination of Ewan McLennan, Emily Portman and Fay Hield in the Horizon Awards category (but remember, Fay has been around awhile, since the Witches Of Elswick at least). And Jonny Kearney & Lucy Farrell’s spellbinding rendition of Hares On The Mountain richly deserves the wider exposure that this release will grant. But I could think of at least two songs from Emily’s Glamoury album that would better qualify for Best Original Song than Stick Stock… And talking of that category, why on earth is indie songwriter Laura Marling, a key nominee, not granted a track on this release?
And it’s a mystery why Heidi Talbot gets nominated in the Best Traditional Track category when her own songs are so fine in comparison with her covers of traditional songs. But in quite a few of the cases, the tracks chosen aren’t approaching the best (or even most representative) of the artists concerned: Bellowhead’s New York Girls and Kris Drever’s Sweet Honey In The Rock, both chosen to lead off a disc, are neither disc nor repertoire highlights in my book. Yet Chris Wood’s Hollow Point and Kerr/Fagan’s Queen Of Waters are both spot-on choices, as are the tracks from CB&S and Norma & Eliza in particular. I’m still puzzled by the apparent confirmation (by dint of these nominations) of the (to me dubious) stature of the Fisherman’s Friends crew, whose drastically overblown recording of South Australia was a low-point of my listening year. But OK, if you want a selection of what the nominees have to offer and you don’t have many of the original albums, then you could do worse than invest in this budget-price compilation, for it does still contain some fine music despite some decidedly odd individual choices.
David Kidman
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Pilgrims’ Way – SHINING GENTLY ALL AROUND (EP) (Fellside, download-only)
Also known as the Magic Christmas Tree EP (but not to be confused with the Maggie Boyle/Pete Morton/Chris Parkinson touring show of the same name), this twelve-minute three-tracker is a lovely seasonal surprise from the winning team that brought you the fine Wayside Courtesies album only a few months ago. And I feel sure it will capitalise nicely on the serious kudos they’re gaining from their nomination for the Horizon Award (“most promising emerging talent”) of the 2012 BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards.Consciously steering away from the conventional and well-trodden Christmas fare, the lead track is a brave foray into the relatively uncharted, arguably under-explored field of psych-folk.
In this particular case, we’re treated to a cover of Chinese White, the iconic opening track of the Incredible String Band’s seminal 5000 Spirits Or The Layers Of The Onion LP of 1967. Anyone who’s heard the original will be unable to forget its intro, where tentative, hesitant guitar phrases usher in the unearthly tones of Robin Williamson’s bowed gimbri, the sawing rasp of which shreds your speakers without trying before Mike Heron even gets to intone his mellifluous lyric. Wisely, Pilgrims’ Way have not chosen to emulate this visceral experience, instead relying on a sparse (and all too brief) drone that barely gets the chance to set the scene before for Lucy’s penetrating voice breaks in with her captivating, considered rendition of the lyric. Here, Pilgrims’ Way have produced a haunting, comforting version of this 60s-encapsulated song that speaks to our age, reassuring us that the values we cherish are still present. I still feel that Lucy’s phrasing is a tad briskly dispatched, the intrinsic poetry of the lyric mildly undersold, but her reading gains in stature when the texture opens out on the second-time repeat of the first verse and the initially reticent backing becomes just a touch more fulsome, with subtle enhancement from gently grand brass chorale and organ keyboard to supplement the original mournful fiddle line and mandola strummings. Chinese White is a hard act to follow, and the remaining tracks turn out to be sneak previews from the sessions for the trio’s followup (second) album, concentrating on the band’s core repertoire of traditional song. Now-established live favourite The Light Dragoon receives a suitably spirited rendition, with some delightful and inventive instrumental touches to complement Lucy’s animated vocal performance, while the hunting ditty Howden Town feels a mite less certain of its musical direction, cautious in an early-Steeleye kind of way but soon catching fire with Tom’s creative fiddle playing.A warmly sparky and glowingly feelgood package for 2011’s festive stocking, this virtual EP is one to bring comfort and cheer for certain.
David Kidman
Pilgrims’ Way – WAYSIDE COURTESIES (Fellside FECD. 239)
The proverbial ink had scarcely dried on their acclaimed half-hour taster-EP than Pilgrims’ Way were promptly signed to Fellside Records and whisked away to Jon Loomes’ Yorkshire studio to record this full-length debut album, whose title is taken from a line in the anthemic Bellamy Kipling setting that (give or take the differently-placed apostrophe) furnishes the band with its name. Their feistily syncopated (if perhaps a touch rushed) take on A Pilgrim’s Way crops up again on Wayside Courtesies, along with three other songs from the aforementioned EP, but since all of these tracks fit so well in sequence in their new surroundings (they’ve been re-recorded too, and more consistently), owners of said EP need not feel shortchanged. In every respect, Wayside Courtesies fulfils one’s expectations and prophesies; it’s a generous 54-minute set that makes all the right noises, building on the EP recordings in a display of even greater assurance. Vitality and dynamism are the ensemble’s watchwords, its finely tuned combination of elegance and exuberance ensuring that its colours remain defiantly ablaze on forthright and more sensitive material alike.
The opening salvo of Only A Soldier segues credibly into the insistent industrial rhythms of The Handweaver And The Factory Maid, followed by a persuasive sequence that takes us from Martinmas Time through Adieu Lovely Nancy to Young Men Are False (aka April Morning) where Edwin Beasant’s restless guitar accompaniment accurately reflects the tenor of Lucy’s interpretation and the supportive male vocal harmonies. Edwin’s multi-skilled virtuosity is stunning, for not only does he prove a dab hand on the trusty melodeon and the purveyor of some seriously chunky bass lines but he also turns in some abundantly dazzling harmonica work on the pair of jigs that forms the disc’s invigorating finale. And then again, notwithstanding the storming excellence of Tom Kitching’s fiddle and mandolin playing and the suitably fiery second fiddle and fearsome jews-harpery of Lucy Wright (the trio’s distinctive and exceptionally characterful principal singer), I’m struck repeatedly by the incisive, inclusive ensemble work, which manifests itself equally naturally in the song accompaniments and on the instrumental pieces that punctuate the second half of the disc. Two of these are especially effectively paired with songs, notably in the case of the disc’s standout track, on which the superbly pointed acappella drama of Lucy’s My Generous Lover is succeeded by the mournful beat of the Norwegian hardanger tune Det Tømte Mjødkruset. The previous track’s pairing – Archie Fisher’s Dark Eyed Molly with a gorgeously paced rendition of the Northumbrian tune Snowy Monday (on which Jon Loomes adds a judicious hurdy gurdy part) – is scarcely less compelling. I really can’t underplay the impact of this album; Pilgrims’ Way have everything on their side, with abundantly impressive musicianship allied to a highly intuitive grasp of tradition, so a distinctly rosy future surely beckons – that is, if the treadmill of touring isn’t allowed to staunch, or take the edge off, their seemingly unstoppable energy.
David Kidman
Pilgrims’ Way – EP (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Pilgrims’ Way is a relatively new grouping for three young musicians who’ve been rapidly making their mark on the folk scene over the past few years: exciting traditional singer Lucy Wright (previously in a duo with York-based Paul Young), ace fiddle and mandolin player Tom Kitching (who’s been teamed up with guitarist/songwriter Gren Bartley) and incorrigibly versatile melodeon merchant (and guitarist and bassist) Edwin Beasant (morris expert and formerly drummer with Jabadaw). Together the three musicians make a mighty sound, driving the tradition ever onward but with keen and deeply respectful nods both to the past and to the more recent musical heritage of the disparate yet crucial phases of the folk revival, from which they audibly derive much inspiration. This EP, although but an unduly brief taster, proudly and unashamedly displays that vibrant mix, and has been released in time to accompany Pilgrims’ Way on their impressively full tour schedule for the upcoming festival season. So we begin our pilgrimage clad in Tarry Trousers, very much in the realm of early Steeleye (glistening electric guitar, chunky bass and feisty fiddle), continuing with a version of The Handweaver And The Factory Maid which plays on an insistent, choppy ostinato counterpoint and (almost casually) introduces Lucy’s virtuoso tooth-trembling jews-harp dexterity.
Changing down a gear, there’s an appealing mando-rippled, almost Americana-edged take on Adieu Lovely Nancy before the trio get the chance to show off their instrumental chops on Andro, where their already fulsome tonal blend is further boosted by producer Jon Loomes’ Hurdy Gurdy Experience! A moment of reposeful, thoughtful beauty comes with Lucy’s delicate singing of Les Barker’s “realist’s love song” Maybe Then I’ll Be A Rose, before the ensemble dances back onstage to climax with a lusty rendition of the Kipling/Bellamy classic from which the trio takes its name. I find this final track a touch rushed generally, bordering on tongue-tied (and thus missing something of the import of the words perhaps), tripping a touch too lithely in its breathless syncopations. But the key features of the ensemble dynamic are preserved: Lucy’s singing is deliciously agile and Edwin and Tom couldn’t be more ideal as accompanists, exhibiting both a striking degree of responsiveness to the vocal line and text and a telling yet unintrusive expression of their own musical personalities. Jon’s expert production well suits the special balance of the three performers, although isolated instances of vocal multitracking don’t quite come off and there are a couple of slightly eccentric touches, but in the main this EP brilliantly conveys the trio’s living-tradition approach and their winning blend of skill, enthusiasm and ebullience.
David Kidman
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ItsAcoustica – HERE WE ARE (Organic Soup OSRAC. 04)
I greatly enjoyed Welcome To…, the earlier studio offering from Tyneside-based Andy and Cath Higgins, who up till now had called themselves plain Acoustica. That CD was followed by a live set, which – while pleasing – (with hindsight) didn’t amount to more than a stopgap, a snapshot of where the duo was musically at the time. A few years further on, and extensive gigging has won them plenty of new friends and boosted their already impressive confidence, especially with regard to the songwriting but also now in the increasingly professional presentation of their material. This new album is a massive leap forward, and much more of a conscious studio production, resulting in a richer, fuller palette that makes excellent use of the possibilities of multitracking (without overdoing it), also focussing on the two musicians’ clearly developing instrumental skills (Andy’s plethora of guitars make a wondrous sound, while Cath’s added accordion, tin whistle and bass to her grand violinistic armoury – and they’ve both taken up the ukulele now too!).
Importantly, this latest set also manages to build on the strengths of their fresh and vital live presence by bringing their self-penned songs into the forefront (no covers this time), and Ron Angus’s ever-impressive, brilliantly intuitive engineering and production expertise has again scored a bullseye in bringing out both the essence and the intensity of the performers’ personalities in a genuinely responsive studio environment within an utterly classy recording. Perhaps the album’s title also reflects the duo’s greater ambitions and definitely more fully realised sense of presence and individuality of late (there had been times when previously I’d felt them to be slightly unassumingly hiding their lights under the proverbial bushel). And the standard of the CD’s ten new songs is unfailingly high – even though I didn’t immediately feel I could grab and isolate a standout track, this being simply because virtually every song makes quite an impact even on first playthrough. The prevailing mode of ItsAcoustica’s music is tuneful acoustic-based contemporary folk-pop, and increasingly I found myself reminded of Pete and Maura Kennedy (in the best possible way), for both Cath and Andy have excellent voices for that kind of material and a keen flair for instrumental colour and flavouring appropriate to that of the message of each song. The opening song, Magnificent Light, engages the ear immediately with its sensuous tex-mex cha-cha vibe, while the tender ballad Your Heart Makes Room employs a gorgeous string arrangement and the cascading fairground-waltzery tempo of the title track is quite charming. Happily Ever After bounds along in on a driving percussive riff before entering more reflective territory, while Overcoat Days harks back to the early-70s rootsy-folk of Lindisfarne (with a nod to The Band in there too perhaps).
A sparse, uke-centric backdrop enables Twisted Path to make its mark in a quirky kind of Roches/Kate-Bush way (love Cath’s harmonies on this track too!); the ringing, chiming guitars and soft string-scape of Close My Eyes invokes CSN and the west-coast sound as much as anything else (and the slide solo is glorious!), and the harmonica-flecked Just One captivates with its mood of Paxtonesque wistful nostalgia. And so it goes. Although serious accomplishment is the order of the day here, Andy and Cath always manage to retain an essential accessibility and listener-friendly lightness of touch that ably complements their songs’ messages and clear-sighted sense of purpose. And the accompanying design, artwork and packaging are all first-class and very attractive indeed. What an achievement all round! (But as a footnote: although I can appreciate the duo’s decision to adopt that rather unwieldy extra syllable upfront, it will surely prove a typographer’s nightmare, just like the fad for illogical or inconsistent use of lower-case that dogs so many acts nowadays – grr!) (Here We Are is available from www.itsacoustica.com for just £10 incl. P&P.)
David Kidman
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The Bad Shepherds – BY HOOK OR BY CROOK (Monsoon MONMUCD. 005)
The Bad Shepherds is the outfit fronted by Ade Edmondson – so, mindful of his celebrated anarchist alter-ego (The Young Ones’ Vivian) you’d expect an affinity with punk and its musical era perhaps; but he’s no mean player himself (a keen thrash-mando merchant) and his muso collaborators Troy Donockley and Andy Dinan are well-respected, as is their (on this latest occasion) guest double-bassist Tim Harries. So we’re talking serious cred here. When the Bad Shepherds’ first CD came out back in 2009 there was a chorus of “here’s another trot-out of the tired old let’s folk-up punk and pop classics for a lark” from the cynics – but even a cursory listen proved the cynics wrong, for it proved a genuinely refreshing experience, performed with zest and life and affection – and yes, a clear intuitive feel for the mood and content of the originals, if occasionally with an understandable whiff of not-quite-sure-how-to-play-it on one or two of their reinterpretations (a reaction that was probably born more out of the increasingly prevalent gambit amongst folk acts of bringing out a pop or rock song for an easy encore!). The intervening year has, it would appear, seen the Bad Shepherds reflect even deeper on the meaning of the songs they adore and choose to adorn with their trademark post-punk-acoustic-folk-rock-with-more-than-a-touch-of-Irish treatment, for the carefully-chosen menu of punk classics is this time round even more thoughtfully managed, more tinged with an almost inevitable aura of often unfortunate hindsight. Again the band’s approach forces us to listen beyond our specific personal memories and the surface temporal associations of the original songs, and mostly for the greater good. There’s no letup in the energy quotient – as the Ramones medley (especially) demonstrates, with its blitzkrieg interspersing of sundry reels (on banjo and uillleann pipes) and jigs (on fiddle and whistle) – or the general sense that Ade and his chums are enjoying every minute of their music-making. Further evidence of this comes on the Specials’ Friday Night, Saturday Morning, and later the Clash medley (White Riot) which closes the disc in real style. But at the same time the more, um, melodic treatment of some of the numbers, like the opener Anarchy In The UK, is also very persuasive indeed: unexpectedly so (although it’s impossible not to feel some measure of regret at any attempt to play down the intense bile of that anthem in its original setting).
Ditto the Shepherds’ account of Motörhead’s Ace Of Spades, which here takes on an uncannily attractive Tull-like ambience. Not everything quite engages this time round; I guess I never did consider XTC’s Making Plans For Nigel among their finest moments. And I wasn’t quite convinced by the Shepherds’ new, gentle take on the Smiths’ Panic, while Buzzcocks’ iconic Ever Fallen In Love With Someone… really loses out, I feel, by being overly mellow and dreamy, entirely ditching its essential power-pop thrust. But the Members’ Sound Of The Suburbs, though similarly very different from the original, turns out to be a real revelation and no mistake. You need to hear this!
My mind’s now racing through other late-70s/early-80s classics wondering what the Bad Shepherds will tackle for album number three…
David Kidman
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na-mara – THE BITE (Right Back Records RBRP. 010)
The Bite is, I’m told, the third album release from the Hertfordshire-based duo of Rob Garcia and Paul McNamara. Their stock-in-trade (aside from the slightly annoying use of lower-case for their name) is skilful musicianship and crisp, precise and finely-contoured playing (mandolin and guitar). This instrumental expertise is used at the service of a range of songs drawn from various folk traditions – most notably that of songs from the French-speaking world which they’ve translated to make them more accessible to English-speaking audiences. Having said that, aside from their truly haunting version of the tragic traditional French ballad The Child Mother, for me the disc highlights tend to reside more in the three original compositions and an excellent rendition of Billy Don’t You Weep For Me (which Nic Jones made famous in his own broadside adaptation, and here features a fine octave-mandola arrangement by Rob). The Nic Jones/Halliard feel extends to the lively accompanimental style of the disc opener Nellie Torrence and Jeannie Waldie, the story of the first true “body snatchers” in Edinburgh, which forms a vivid contrast with the title song, a poignant homage to British volunteers who fought in the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s. The third original song by Paul is Only For Three Months, which recounts the story of Rob’s father and uncle who were evacuated from Bilbao in 1937 after the bombing of Guernica. Relief from the songs comes in the form of two instrumental tracks: the first of which delivers bagpipe tunes from Galicia and Asturias, the second pairs a delightful Asturian waltz with a sprightly muñeira.
Whatever the tempo, tenderness and musical understatement are hallmarks of na-mara’s music, even if that sometimes betokens a lesser impact on the listener, at least in terms of memorability of melody line; in other words, their music gently insinuates itself, and grows in stature with acquaintance. This was just one of the aspects in which na-mara reminded me of Weardale’s Brother Crow; their instrumentation complement and balance is very similar too (here Paul handles the vocals and plays guitar, while Rob does duty on the mandolin and octave mandola for the most part), and the two duos share a distinct predilection for storytelling, with a concomitant attention to detail and keen historical research. I’ll admit that, original songs aside, I didn’t experience quite the same degree of intense involvement in na-mara’s stories that I did in Brother Crow’s – perhaps it’s just that the French sources are (culturally) one step further removed. Even the lighter moments, like Tears In My Eyes (learnt from top French-Canadian band Le Vent Du Nord) and Three Matelots, don’t quite turn out as riproaring as the tempo might suggest or allow. But na-mara’s sensitivity towards their material, and their conviction, enthusiasm and expertise in their chosen field, really can’t be faulted; and the presence of two guest musicians (Fairport’s Chris Leslie on violin on three tracks, and Dan Garcia on bodhrán or percussion on five) embellishes their music to just the right degree. It may be a gentle kind of “bite”, but it’s a tasty one nevertheless.
David Kidman
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Rose Kemp – GOLDEN SHROUD (Twelve Year Stretch, no catalogue number)
Wow!… The latest, self-released and fan-funded offering from Rick’s illustrious and fiercely independent daughter is probably as far away as you can get from the worlds of Steeleye Spannery (or indeed chunky breakfast marmalade!), or Maddy & The Girls – although “Prior” knowledge of Rose’s solo career to date may provide a better clue. In fact, the very first utterance you hear on this disc is the f***-word, kicking off the first pair of lines in the fearsome questioning acappella chant that takes up the first couple of minutes of track one, which is cryptically entitled Black Medick II (I’m left wondering what became of Black Medick I, for it didn’t appear on either of the earlier parts of the trilogy of albums of which Golden Shroud forms the finale).
The sound of the whole album is equally fearsome in fact, for the aforementioned acappella intro gives way to a screaming, wailing vocal onslaught backed by a deafening all-electric fuzz-guitar full-band sound courtesy of Rose’s fellow-musicians Joe Garcia (bass) and James King (drums); this continues without respite for a further seven minutes. If anything, track two (Blood Run Red) is even more dense and impenetrable, although structurally it follows a very similar pattern at first, with another acappella intro (this time harmonised with a male voice), after which a heavy striding tread accompanies significantly doomy and opaque, intoned or croaked utterances before the peculiar staccato of the title mantra is voiced. What does it all mean? you will be thinking – and by this point the more folky-inclined of readers will have firmly plugged their ears in utter bewilderment. This is goth with a real vengeance, superbly uncompromising and challenging and not exactly easy listening – or at all easy to get along with. Around twelve minutes into this second track, the fuzz is temporarily silenced and Rose delivers, to a lone guitar line, a squalling poetic interlude containing some amazing imagery: magic, if seriously disturbing. A painful grinding backing then ushers in a final brief incantation before the ominous humming onset of track three, Lead Coffin, a sixteen-minute epic which initially pits the wordless acappella harmonies against deafening feedback before the primal riff sets in and the harrowing lyric can be presented by Rose’s tremendous voice in all its pagan glory, finally pegging out on the memorable stanza “Our ribs will open, spew forth dimensions of sound, vibrations when you give us hope”. Think more extreme Banshees, even Nina Hagen, set to severely punishing riffs that would send Ozzy and his crew into a black hole, and you might have an idea of what this ear-crushing, perversely beautiful music sounds like. The whole album was recorded live, and its three extended tracks represent for Rose the cumulative fruition of her “expanded developed style”. Elegant is not a word I might expect to use in describing this music, but it comes to seem weirdly apt after you’ve listened. Rose’s musical vision is literally unique: extraordinarily powerful and acutely confrontational yet uncannily sensual, really heavy-duty doom-metal, yet also intimately intense and quite mesmerising – but (and here’s your obligatory health-warning), I’ll guarantee, it definitely won’t be everybody’s cup of blood.
David Kidman
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Jake Cogan & The Liberty Roses – JAKE COGAN & THE LIBERTY ROSES (Arosa AROSA. 0001)
Lanark-born Jake sang from an early age at her family home, then fronted a band on the Glasgow circuit in her teenage years. High-profile work with producer Sandy Jones brought success, but work on her debut album was interrupted by bereavement (the death of her father, her biggest musical influence), and she only returned to music (writing and singing) three years later, after meeting with guitarist Ross Cockburn, a friend of Boo Hewerdine. The latter encouraged Jake and Ross to work together, and their collaboration formed the nucleus for a working band that would eventually become The Liberty Roses, with the addition of bassist Iain Bruce (Hobotalk), Jed Potts (guitar, mandolin), Emily Peppers (violin) and Danny Grant (percussion). That lineup toured extensively during 2007 and released an EP the following year, but this eponymous album constitutes the band’s proper debut, albeit with a slightly different lineup – ie. all-but-minus Jed and Iain (though they make a sporadic appearance), and notably with the addition of producer Marc Pilley (who takes up most of the bass duties), and a few guests including Kris Drever, Boo Hewerdine, Guy Nicholson, Nicola McAteer and Stuart Nisbet. It’s not a great record, but it does have its moments, especially after the first couple of tracks are out of the way.
Album opener The Endless Road rather lives up to its title, being no more than a pleasantly meandering repeated chord sequence that goes nowhere in particular. Shortly after which, however, Jake turns in a compelling, reverentially spare rendition of Jimmy McCarthy’s account of The Mad Lady And Me, beginning a more captivating sequence of mostly original songs that Jake’s jointly penned with Ross and/or Marc and/or Boo, with a fine cover of Gillian Welch’s Annabelle completing the set. In fact, the Gillian Welch comparisons surface on both of the songs written solely by Marc: The Owl and Jackdaw (is an ornithological theme developing here?, I wonder cautiously). However, Jake’s singing doesn’t approximate Gillian’s, but instead has a natural unforced flowing tone that draws on various vocal styles. The album ends up leaving an impression that’s quietly beguiling though perhaps more than a little elusive. Tonight departs from the mildly country flavour with its bolder psych-folk-with-tabla soundscape – yet this and other tracks curiously also at times recall singers as different as Judy Collins and more recent Emmylou as much as some of the nu-folk brigade – a feel that continues on into Quarter Moon. And The Road Less Travelled makes for a gorgeous closer. In the end, even if not all of the other songs prove quite as memorable in their own right it’s still an album that delivers on a certain amount of cumulative gentle power.
David Kidman
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Army Of Briars – ARMY OF BRIARS (Discus)
Army Of Briars is a group in the “tradition” of maverick British experimental, or wyrd-folk; it’s a given, therefore, that the music it produces will be genuinely avant-garde, both strange and wonderful, challenging yet intensely rewarding – so don’t expect an easy ride. Sheffield-based Tim and Julie Cole have worked as a duo on the folk scene for many years (yet have only just released their first CD, Sea Longing); for some time been they’ve been interested in the work of their good friend, local electronic-experimental composer and wind musician Martin Archer; around four years ago, a meeting between Martin and poet/musician Keith Jafrate produced the catalyst for a collaborative project between the four.
Keith presented the group with a coherent cycle of poems, set to some highly personal imagery, which could be set to music by Tim to arrangements involving himself and Martin, and sung by Julie. And all these (what might seem disparate) elements come together in a unified whole on this album, which appeared back in 2007 but has only just come my way. It’s a very special record, with a (quite literally) unique musical character that, while audibly referencing the traditions of maverick folk, is very – very – different to anything else you’ll have heard, that I guarantee. The undisputed natural focus of Army Of Briars’ music is Julie’s magnificent voice, stunningly pure and possessing the ability to unerringly pierce through any texture you could throw its way. Think Jacqui McShee especially, possibly also Judy Dyble, a vocal apparatus that’s to-the-manner-born rather than mannered or in any way precious, and armed with a fabulous facility and flexibility, able to cope with all manner of weird and unpredictable melody lines and shifts but also sing straight as a dye, with a vocal control that fair leaves the listener speechless and always seriously enraptured. The musical backdrop consists of delicately contoured and gently forthright guitar lines, embellished and cocooned by dark woodwinds, spectral reeds and “classic” (mellotron, Fender Rhodes and Hammond) keyboard textures with more than a hint of creative electronica. The latter element betrays a distinct influence from pioneers such as Faust and early-Stockhausen, while some of the sound-world can recall late-60s bands as diverse as King Crimson, Soft Machine, Gong/Steve Hillage, early Family, Henry Cow and White Noise, even at times recalling the adventures of Mike Oldfield), while the folkier side of Army Of Briars’ invention takes its cue from the mildly-extended song forms and poetic excursions of the Incredible String Band, some of the more obscure work of Pentangle, Comus or Principal Edwards, and looking further ahead, Sharron Kraus, Mary Hampton, Emily Portman (and perhaps even some recent nu-folk acts such as The Memory Band and artists from the Rif Mountain stable) – but Army Of Briars can be seen as more radical, by a long way, than the majority of these latter-day exponents of experimental, wyrd and acid-folk. It’s the special combination of the uncommonly haunting and ear-catching quality of Julie’s keening voice, the piquant imagery of Keith’s poetry and the warm, enveloping character of Martin’s arrangements with their supremely inventive, ever-morphing textures that, though here primarily composed, seem at times almost to respond organically to the texts as they’re being sung – although the effect is far from episodic. Take the first song in the sequence, To Fall, a kind of elemental hymnal (at first recalling Mike Heron’s sublime Air, later the dreamy ambience of Ummagumma-era Pink Floyd) which is underpinned by an itchy, restless percussive motif – and all in the space of just under two-and-a-half minutes. The gently enigmatic Four Riddles (possibly the song most akin to traditional folk in pure sound terms too) is followed by the eerie, spacey-doomy invocation of Mist On The Barrows, while the cautiously jazzy portrait of The Deep Park functions as an introit for the multi-dimensional economy of scale that is A Lesson. The chilling Who But I Ate The Fruit Of Your Lips brings the aura of a scaled-down Trembling Bells (or Owl Service), while I Travelled North To Hide perhaps most closely approximates one of the epic ISB journey-songs (though in the space of just four minutes) and On Nine Barrow Down (sung by Tim) is a potent vision with a slight gospel feel and festooned with an echoey brass quintet and strange shifting perspectives.
Where The Blue Goes Dark And Birdless radiates an aura of desperate beauty, and the cycle then closes in the confident mystic glow of Gatherer Of Excited Moons. The accompanying booklet, by the way, is a work of art, with simple but effective illustrations by Julie’s daughter Helen and full texts of the poems. Yes, Army Of Briars can be taken as a thorny proposition (literally!) – but do stick with it, for (trust me!) the rewards are immense.
www.myspace.com/armyofbriars and www.discus-music.co.uk
David Kidman
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Jaywalkers – 16 MILES (Own Label, Jay1)
Going by the name alone, you could easily be forgiven for thinking Jaywalkers were either a contemporary Americana outfit or an unfortunately-timed relaunch of Peter Jay’s early-60s rock’n’roll combo. But no, Jaywalkers are a lively and enthusiastic young duo comprising Jay Bradberry (fiddle, lead vocals) and Michael Giverin (mandolin, guitar, harmony vocals), who achieved the coveted status of finalists in 2009’s BBC Young Folk Awards. They’ve been making music together since the summer of 2008, and following the acclaim for their BBC showing they were booked for a number of festival and radio appearances. Jaywalkers’ musical stamping ground – or at any rate its springboard-cum-starting-point – is, loosely, bluegrass-tinged folk. Their repertoire is built around equal parts informed and respectful covers of fairly well-established genre pieces (Wayfaring Stranger, Shady Grove, Caleb Meyer, and assorted tunes taken from both old and new bluegrass traditions) and a good handful of original songs and tunes penned by Michael himself. These three songs are intelligent and well-considered responses to situations (age-old tales of romance and the Irish potato famine respectively), while his tunes are creations of genial simplicity and feasible charm that clearly have their roots in the classier type of bluegrass and newgrass. Although Michael’s original writing will I suspect in time still need to develop its own, more distinctively personal character to survive above the bar in this highly competitive field, there’s still much to enjoy in Jaywalkers’ music, not least since it can never be classed unduly derivative either in nature or execution. As musicians, Jay and Michael are way better than merely proficient in their chosen field, and often more imaginative in approach than one might reasonably expect from performers of this tender age. Jay’s singing voice is very confident, and interestingly tough (definitely not the breathy, winsome timbre of the typical late-teens girl singer); her take on Wayfaring Stranger works particularly well in this regard, but she also adds an edge to Michael’s writing that’s not always immediately apparent on a mere scrutiny of his lyrics. In short, I believe this duo shows plenty of promise for a healthy musical future.
David Kidman
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Brian Preston – Gregson Lane Folk Club 28th December – 2010
In the 22 years that Gregson Lane Folk Club has been running, this was the first time that I could remember our ‘alternate’ Thursday falling between Christmas and New year. We had no idea whether we would be able to persuade an audience to put down the turkey leftovers and venture away from the warmth of a blazing Yule log and festive TV shows to make a cold and very slippery journey to attend a concert at the club.
We needed to be certain that whatever we decided to do on the night would work so it was decided to ask Brian Preston to do the evening after all he is no stranger to Gregson Lane and whenever he has appeared we have always had a full house.
I knew that this would be a busy time for him (In fact this was the last of 22 nights – performing in December) and I know that as a committed family man he values his time at home during this traditional winter break - so I was delighted when he agreed to come and play.
Brian phoned me a few weeks before to say that he would do something a bit different, on the night. The date we had chosen more or less coincided with the day, 40 years ago when he turned professional, so he decided that he would mark the occasion by inviting audience members to write down requests for songs that they have heard him perform during that time and even from the earlier years when Brian was resident at Preston & Longridge Folk Clubs (either as a solo or member of The Wayfarers, Horden Raikes or Tom Tiddlers Ground) during the 'Hey days' of the Folk revival when he collected many of the songs which have now become standards at singers nights in the area.
How the night would be attended or how this suggested format would be received was still an 'unknown quantity' but I felt confident - having Brian 'in the bag' (So to speak) is like having a constant and a high trump card rolled into one.
The night arrived and (Professional as always) Brian was there before me (I live 400 yds away) setting out his stall to ensure that whoever turned up would get the very best that he could offer.
Gregson Lane FC is notorious for the audience arriving at the last minute - not tonight! - Advertised for an 8:30 start - the place started to fill up at from 7:45 - not only with our regulars but also with the usual band of people who have attended Brian Preston’s Concerts at Gregson Lane since our very first mutual venture in 1988. By 8:30 people were carrying seats up from downstairs - we had a full house.
Brian performed two long but very entertaining spots - the 'Request format’ worked a treat - people were not only requesting songs but the stories and jokes that they affectionately remembered Brian relating in years gone by. I thought that I knew Brian’s whole repertoire but was still surprised when he sang two or three songs that I had not heard him play before.
Several members of the Social Club - who have never attended the Folk Club before - took the plunge and came upstairs - they loved it - I got some very positive feedback indeed from them and from most people present many of who made a point of thanking 'me' for putting on such a good show.
It’s wasn't ‘me’ that made the evening a success - it was the fact that the crowd were in the very capable hands of a consummate professional.
Good on you Bri.
Hears to the next 40 years
Graham Dixon
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Rua Macmillan – TYRO (Greentrax CDTRAX. 346)
Nairn-born fiddler Rua (that’s short for Ruairidh), as well as fronting his own band, is currently a member of the award-winning Paul McKenna Band, whose CD Between Two Worlds I reviewed a year or so back. But I’d say Rua’s got even more to offer on this seriously exciting solo album, on which he plays a selection of his own compositions together with spirited arrangements of traditional and contemporary tunes. This solo recording came about as a prize for winning BBC Radio Scotland’s Young Traditional Musician Of The Year award in 2009, and on this evidence Rua’s already a major force to be reckoned with, displaying a striking degree of maturity and confidence both in his playing and in his willingness to experiment with fresh arrangements for the music.
A key feature of Rua’s solid technique is his embracing of pipe-ornamentation as an influence on his fingerwork – you can hear this best, perhaps, in the style he adopts for Charlie McKerron’s Bruachladdich on the Ooh, Pierre set (track 7). But unlike many fiddlers with a strongly driven style, Rua convinces whatever the tempo – whether on the lively medley of jigs (track 2), the rollicking Kitchen Criminals set or the lovely, reflective Harv’s (composed for Kristan Harvey, a fine fiddler from Orkney). Although Rua’s strong and brilliant fiddle playing is at the forefront of this persuasive recording (produced by Brian McNeill), a certain amount of the record’s special character stems from his choice of accompanying musicians – principally Tia Files (guitars, bass) and Adam Brown (bodhrán), both members of Rua’s own band, and augmented occasionally by Alasdair MacLeod (drums), and further (on just two tracks) by Brian himself on concertina or bouzouki and Lorne MacDougall on pipes and whistle on the superbly animated George, Donald And Sandy (march-and-pipe-jigs combination). Tia’s guitar work both propels and complements Rua’s own sense of forward momentum, while Adam’s bodhrán playing is a model of sensitivity. Even so, the one entirely solo track, a soulful, entirely affectionate and wonderfully rich-toned rendition of the lullaby Bidh Clann Ulaidh, proves a disc highlight (and fittingly too, since it was the very music which won Rua the YTM award!). Perhaps the Glasgow Spike march seems a touch hard-driven at first, but the use of octave fiddles for a textural backdrop is a nice foil for the more abrasive front-line work; and it’s a pity the ensuing tune is faded before it’s outstayed its welcome. But even this doesn’t spoil the keen impact Rua’s playing has on the listener, especially since there’s still one more track to play – the hard-swinging Taxi set…! For Tyro is both a very attractive and forcefully impressive record: one that bodes extremely well for Rua’s future career. Watch out for Rua’s forthcoming (March/April) joint tour, preceded by a Celtic Connections appearance, in tandem with guitarist and singer Ewan Robertson, whose own debut CD Some Kind Of Certainty is also reviewed on these pages. www.myspace.com/ruamacmillan
David Kidman
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Ewan Robertson – SOME KIND OF CERTAINTY (Greentrax CDTRAX. 328)
Ewan’s best known at the moment as singer and guitarist with the mighty Breabach, but he originally studied fiddle and pipes, which gave him a thorough grounding in traditional music. Since then, however, he’s concentrated on the guitar, in particular the development of a driving style of accompaniment for his mellow and mature singing voice; that combination of talents so impressed the judges of 2008’s BBC Radio Scotland Young Traditional Musician Of The Year Award that he became the first singer/guitarist to win that award, as part of the prize for which came a solo recording for Greentrax – and here it is.
With the help of a galaxy of musician friends, Ewan has produced a very classy album of acoustic folk music that’s predominantly contemporary in origin. The pair of traditional songs (Oh Gin I Were and Ship In Order) are treated well and with due respect, and (where necessary) imaginatively too as a bonus. For the remainder of the time, though, Ewan gives us his own personal interpretations of a handful of acknowledged classics of the modern folk repertoire, these ranging from a compellingly moulded take on Dave Sudbury’s King Of Rome to an excitingly pacey motor through Richard Thompson’s 1952 Vincent Black Lightning and a suitably sensitive rendition of Phil Ochs’ When I’m Gone. James Grant’s Scarecrow Song is another of those contemporary songs that deserves to be better known, and Ewan is very persuasive here too. I’m not quite as convinced by Ewan’s reading of Steve Knightley’s Man Of War, which with its faster, choppy tempo seems to miss out on the poignancy of the lyric, nor by the two songs from the writing team of Finlay Napier and Nick Turner (though the whisky drinking song One For The Ditch grows on me with further play). But there’s ample compensation in the musical settings – indeed, all of the disc’s ten selections share an enterprising approach to arrangement that’s unafraid to take chances occasionally yet remains thoroughly listenable. Ewan’s expert support crew makes for a slightly unusual instrumental complement; it comprises Angus Lyon (piano, organ, accordion), Ewan MacPherson (12-string guitar, mandolin, banjo), Rick Taylor (trombone), Patsy Reid (fiddle, viola), Alan Train (pedal steel), Donald Hay (percussion) and James Lindsay (double bass), and Emily Smith contributes some delectable backing vocals to several of the songs. This is a more than promising debut offering from Ewan, and a high benchmark which he’s set himself to follow – for there is indeed some kind of certainty it will happen! Watch out for Ewan’s forthcoming (March/April) joint tour, preceded by a Celtic Connections appearance, in tandem with fiddler Rua Macmillan, whose own debut CD Tyro is also reviewed on these pages.
David Kidman
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Mick Houghton – BECOMING ELEKTRA: THE TRUE STORY OF JAC HOLZMAN’S VISIONARY RECORD LABEL (Jawbone Press)
The long history of the amazing multi-genre record label Elektra has recently been celebrated in style by the publication, just a few weeks ago, of this meticulously-researched, copiously illustrated, magnificently readable and tremendously informative largish-format book, one that will tell you virtually everything you ever wanted to know about the label and much else of interest besides. Elektra Records was started in a humble Maryland college dorm room, as far back as the fall of 1950, by Jac Holzman – a keen music fan (and self-confessed audio engineering buff) who just happened to possess the complementary qualities of a true vision allied to a shrewd business sense, attributes that have carried him forward into his 80th year still active in the record industry (ironically perhaps, as a senior advisor to the Warner Music Group) – one of its survivors, no question. Initially, Jac’s steering vision for Elektra was informed by his appreciation of folk music in the widest sense – literally living up to the claim “folk songs from just about everywhere”.
The label’s roster, healthy from the very start, grew (along with the LP format) enviably and intuitively during its first decade, embracing artists as diverse as Jean Ritchie, Tom Paley, Susan Reed, Ed McCurdy, composer and accompanist John Gruen, folklorist Frank Warner, blues legend Josh White, the eccentric Oscar Brand, chamber jazz ensembles, flamenco, Trinidad steel bands, the folk music of Israel and the Russian gypsies in a long-running series of records by actor-singer Theodore Bikel, alongside library-resource albums of mood music and authentic sound-effects – and even a morse-code training disc! – with the result that by the early 1960s it had established itself as one of America’s leading specialist labels, a status which it was able to build on during the ensuing decade and thence, inspired by the confidence this repertoire fostered, grasp every opportunity to explore and showcase new musical talent.
This book charts “the Holzman years” of the label’s history (1950 through to 1973, when Jac sold the label to Warners) in deep but never impenetrable detail, shedding much-needed light especially on that relatively unsung yet massively important first decade, a period which has hitherto received so little sympathetic or decently-researched coverage by commentators (most of whom have, perhaps understandably, been more eager to proceed straight to the better-documented glory days of the label in the second half of the 60s).
The DJ John Peel was one important and influential champion of Elektra’s output; he wrote a perceptive sleeve note for one of its sampler albums, and many of its artists did regular session work for his Night Ride and Top Gear programmes. Holzman and Peel clearly had much in common – I’d say principally in matters of integrity, open-mindedness and eclecticism – and there were many times when the spectrum of musics played on John’s programmes almost exactly mirrored that of Elektra’s output, from important singer-songwriters David Ackles and Tim Buckley to percipient singer-interpreters like Judy Collins and the iconoclastic and vastly influential underground-folk-world hybrid music of the Incredible String Band; white-blues pioneers The Paul Butterfield Blues Band and wildly disparate psychedelic rock bands like Love and The Doors to nascent punks MC5 and the Stooges and the arguably slightly dubious supergroup Rhinoceros. Holzman (like Peel, indeed) cared deeply for all of the artists whose careers he nurtured through the label; and laudably, as has been noted, Elektra’s catalogue was similarly built on musical merit rather than direct commercial potential.
The label’s innovative and eye-catching sleeve designs betokened both the very sense of adventure and the at times slightly esoteric (even elitist) nature of the contents within; and many an hour will be spent by the reader of Becoming Elektra thoroughly absorbed in the pages upon pages of scintillating butterfly-proud, bright reproductions of the label’s sleeves together with much ancillary cover artwork and pics. Giving credit where due, Mick also refuses to gloss over other vital features of the Elektra brand such as the state-of-the-art, often extraordinarily high quality of the engineered sound and the daring artistic adventures and crusading risks taken by Holzman in the development of his impressive roster and its sometimes unpredictable but always engaging and stimulating music.
Me, I’ve many fond memories of investigating Elektra releases; my first actual acquisition (as in paid good money!) was the ISB’s magnificent Wee Tam & The Big Huge double-LP, but I’d borrowed earlier Elektra releases from friends. It had always been my intention to collect the label’s products more assiduously, but the painful truth was that at the time I started my LP collection in earnest the discs simply weren’t all that easily available, by and large. There was also the unfortunate issue of teenage penury, which meant that quite often I could only manage to buy the singles in the hope that in due course I might be able to afford the albums whence they came. Except that in some cases singles were not succeeded by albums… as in the case of British cult psych band Leviathan, reference to whom is uncharacteristically skimpy in Mick’s text (and the book’s otherwise so admirably exhaustive Elektra discography fails to list the group’s three singles, or indeed any of the label’s other 45-rpm releases – an unfortunate omission, and my only real criticism of the book).
This book has so many virtues that it just has to be held up as an example of exactly how to research and present a label history. It focuses equally on the music and the personality of its founder, and to this end Mick has obtained impeccably honest and insightful comments and feedback from Holzman himself (who also kindly provided some memorabilia and photos for reproduction etc) as well as a host of former Elektra artists.
Mick’s own credentials are second-to-none, both as long-term music journalist of considerable repute and successful independent music publicist, latterly also coordinator of a number of crucial CD reissue projects. Mick’s skill for unearthing intriguing nuggets of information produces plenty of absorbing facts (did you know that Neil Young was originally scheduled to produce Love’s Forever Changes, for instance?).
And not many people will realise that some of the actual recordings from the label’s successful sound-effects series were capably utilised on Elektra’s rock releases (notably Seven And Seven Is and Riders On The Storm). In this connection, a further illuminating footnote to the Elektra story comes with the knowledge that Jac’s profits from the sound-effects records enabled him to finance the setting-up, in early 1964, of Nonesuch Records, the low-price baroque-classical label that subsequently through its landmark Explorer series pioneered and revolutionised the marketing of indigenous musics from all over the world, and in a parallel venture introduced electronic music, and in particular the synthesiser, to many a receptive musical head. All of which information proves less tangential and more relevant the deeper your own experience of Elektra’s own output, which encompassed electronica in The Zodiac: Cosmic Sounds and pre-classical potential kitsch in The Baroque Beatles Song Book.
Becoming Elektra is both lavishly researched and presented, although it comes with just one minor practical drawback: its dimensions are slightly cumbersome, making it a touch awkward to handle and not entirely easy to store on conventional shelving. But hey, grow yourself a larger hand, expand its span along with your mind! And to assist you in your investigation of the label’s musical delights (which I can guarantee will be an imperative, nay become an obsession while you’re reading the tome!), why not purchase the soundtrack, still available in the form of the formidable, and thoroughly essential, five-disc box-set Forever Changing: The Golden Age Of Elektra Records 1963-73 (Rhino, 2006), for which, incidentally, Mick Houghton also wrote the accompanying booklet. There’s also a continually evolving interactive website, www.elektra60.com, curated by Jac himself, which enables the viewer to peruse and obtain many exclusive label-related features and artefacts.
David Kidman
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Jenna & Bethany Reid – ESCAPE (Lofoten Records LOFCD. 001)
This is an unusual release: a one-off concept piece built around a little-known episode of World War 2 history, taking the form of a narrative punctuated with original music composed by two young Shetland sisters whose pedigree includes work with bands as diverse as Filska, Deaf Shepherd and Dochas and (for Jenna) work on the prestigious Transatlantic Sessions TV programmes.
The story concerns the incredible escape of Jan Baalsrud (a member of the Norwegian Resistance exiled on the Shetland Islands) from the Germans in 1943, at the time of the secret “Shetland Bus” operations across the North Sea (which avoided land crossings entirely), and the narrative sections, authentically intoned by native Shetlander Phil Goodlad, are certainly gripping, vividly conveying Jan’s lengthy and gruelling ordeal with the help of atmospheric soundscapes.
The various musical sections are expertly crafted mood pieces largely inspired by traditional Shetland music, and the vital playing of the sisters (fiddle and piano) is augmented by that of flautist/piper James Thomson, percussionist Iain Sandilands and double-bassist James Lindsay. The narrative is well reflected in the musical depiction of the various episodes, which range in style from the rushing flight-ridden cascades of Escape/The Double Cross to a depiction of beauty of landscape (Brattholm), the staccato virtuosity of the Firefight reel and the sheer powerless resignation (enforced by the removal of his own toes) of Desolation, culminating in the triumphant dance of Freedom In Sweden, and finally the fulsome, rich Jan’s Return which evokes the present-day commemoration of Jan’s exploits.
It’s all very moving, harrowing at times in fact, and invokes the indomitable spirit of the man in music and narrative of considerable power, although I suspect the whole suite is by its very nature not necessarily an audio experience you’ll feel like repeating all that often, and it’s not possible to access the individual sections of the instrumental suite as they’re not cued separately from the relevant parts of the narrative.
David Kidman
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Blowzabella – DANCE (Own Label)
This is a live album with a difference, for it’s both a technically faultless and faithful reproduction of a stage show and, more importantly, possesses, or should I say is possessed of, that often elusive extra dimension, a replication of the sheer energy, spirit and panache of that show – and that driving energy never ever lets up, ripping through your speakers with intense visceral force. You may know what to expect, in a general sense, but Blowzabella’s trademark joyous sonic fracas, still pretty much unique after nigh on 30 years, retains the power to faze your senses, with settings permanently on stun. The current lineup has never sounded more robust or headily confident in their musical vision, one which may well have spawned more imitators than folks would like to admit. Some have questioned: whither Bellowhead, with nearly twice the complement making an equivalent decibel-count? And yet while one can see the point, that’s not really such a fair comparison, for each outfit has a different mission – it’s just that with hindsight we can appreciate that Blowzabella paved the way for the whole folk-big-band ethos all those years ago. Here on the unassumingly titled Dance, that mesmeric, charismatic, fierce yet jolly blending of buzzing, humming hurdy gurdy (Gregory Jolivet), soaring saxes (Jo Freya, Paul James) and blazing bagpipes (Paul James, Jon Swayne), dazzling diatonic accordion (Andy Cutting), vibrant violin (Dave Shepherd), and Barn (Stradling)’s bounding bass-electric together conjuring an aural alliteration of the most bewitching kind that’s guaranteed to set your feet on fire. Yes, dance means dance: a continuous ceilidh that relentlessly trips the heavy fantastic with a glorious hour’s worth of splendid tunes gleaned from every which place on the musical globe, from schottisches to bourées, waltzes to jigs, branles to mazurkas, rant-step dances to hornpipes, and rounding it all off with a jovially punchy medley that kicks off with the lusty 17th century jig where it all started (ie. the one the band was named after in the first place!) – that’s the way to do it!… Deep joy and deepest musicianship waxing incandescent, striding triumphantly hand in hand along the strand; ample cause for celebration and cheering.
David Kidman
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Shauna Mullin – WISHING TREE (Mullin MULL001CD)
Hailing from Co. Donegal, 25-year-old Shauna already has an impressive CV; in 1999 she won an All-Ireland title in English language song, and in 2005 attained finalist status in Music Network’s Young Musicwide Award, since which time she’s been featured on many festival stages. In 2007 she performed at the Royal Opera House with Luke Daniels and gained her MA in Irish Traditional Music Performance. Having been thus far widely acclaimed for her live performances both solo and with the David Munnelly Band (with whom she fulfils the role of lead singer), Wishing Tree, her debut solo album, has been eagerly awaited. There will be readers for whom the very notion of a 25-year-old female singer conjures up a delicate, wispy, pretty, pastel-shaded voice; this impression is dispelled right away on first encounter with Shauna. She possesses a splendid maturity, in phrasing as much as in basic tonal quality, being a genuine alto with real body, a firm, open and rounded voice that’s warm and strong in all registers, vibrant and absolutely distinctive. She’s been compared, and not inaccurately, with Dolores Keane, but she also openly admits to being influenced by June Tabor and Dick Gaughan in addition to by her grand-uncle Paddy Tunney. Traces of a Taboresque timbre in Shauna’s voice are particularly noticeable – and persuasive – on the disc’s final song, Úr Chnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte, which shares with the opening track (Ned Of The Hill) a pleasingly sympathetic piano arrangement and accompaniment (Ryan Molloy) and a distinctly classical-Lied-like character.
Unfortunately, it proves nigh impossible to pick out the detail of who exactly is playing what on the CD, since all that’s provided on the package is a combined cast-list of eight musicians that includes among its ranks Seanan Brennan, Damien McGeehan and members of the Munnelly Band. The attractive digipack does, however, include some honest and informative notes on the songs and the sources from which Shauna has drawn them for performance here (although it does fall surprisingly short of the ideal in not giving non-Gaelic-speakers any inkling of meaning for at least two of the disc’s four songs sung in that language. Coincidentally perhaps, the songs which I find the most appealing and repeatedly satisfying are the sweet lullaby Suantraí Seoithín Seothó (blessed with a lovely guitar backing), the Donegal lament Fill Fill A Ruin Ó (which Shauna learnt from the singing of her mother), and the delicious Seacht Ndólás Na Maighdine Muire (which has some beautiful, comforting male vocal harmonies in support). Shauna proves an inventive interpreter and arranger of songs. For instance, her unaccompanied version of The Wee Weaver (with double-tracked vocal and set in the form of a canon) is good fun, although on the other hand Karine Polwart’s sublime Follow The Heron seems to lose some of its special beauty and delicacy due to a slightly distracting, over-florid accordion and piano backing. And it’s no fault of Shauna’s that the impact of Out Of The Window, a gem of a comparatively unknown but quite charming traditional song with an intriguingly reflective and melancholy melody, is marginally lessened due to the specific associations evoked in the listener’s mind by the uncanny similarity of its text to She Moved Through The Fair. But on balance the disc’s gains more than outweigh any of those minor losses; and after any initial shock has worn off I’m sure you’ll find that Shauna’s voice, with its boldly refined enunciation, is certainly captivating, for it moulds itself so very well to the texts and Shauna’s interpretive integrity is never in question.
David Kidman
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Benita Johnson – YOU SHOULD KNOW… (BJM, no catalogue number)
Young Bristol-based singer-songwriter Benita (real name B.L. Knowles) has been described as “a force to be reckoned with” on her local gig scene, and I felt on reviewing an earlier EP of hers (Stars And Fireflies) way back in late 2006 that this was no idle claim and here indeed was an extraordinary talent. Things then went quiet, and I heard nothing until this summer when Benita contacted me to say she would be releasing a full-length CD at the end of July. A home-made promo copy duly arrived, and percolated in and out of the “play” pile over the ensuing months but for various reasons never quite making it to full draft review stage – not the least because (sad to say, but it’s the unfortunate truth!) disc-only, case-less promo CDs have a habit of getting misplaced – or even lost! – amidst the review-mountain. But I suspect that there was another more deep-rooted reason – that the opening track, Free, is not a particularly strong song, a bit of a throwaway in fact, whose most notable feature, it might be argued, is Benita’s ultra-confident, rather distinctive vocal work.
Admittedly, the song – and its breezy, capably electric, indie-rock-styled arrangement – does get to make more of an impression when one’s become more fully acquainted with the remaining nine tracks, but I remain puzzled at Benita’s decision to make it the lead track for the album. Another difficulty the reviewer faces with Benita’s music is that she’s very much an individual with no ready reference points as regards comparisons. Although acoustic-driven, her songs are neither folk nor pop, neither blues nor soul, and yet they can be heard to contain elements of all these and more from within the sphere of contemporary singer-songwriter music (all ten songs on this album are Benita’s own compositions, since you ask). Thus far, Benita’s singing has (by other reviewers, apparently) been variously compared to Jewel, Alanis Morissette, Ani Di Franco and Dido – yet I can’t hear any of those to any significant degree, and in any case Benita’s expert phrasing totally lacks artifice or mannerism and her acute control of dynamics feels more natural, less contrived and less pretentious than any of those models. The complexity of emotions Benita’s able to convey on a deceptively simple song like We’re OK, for instance, is quite miraculous and compels your fullest attention, even while some other part of your mind is being enchanted (distracted) by the darkly melancholy musical backdrop of cello and viola with its insistent but gentle guitar figures. The forthright sentiments of All That Glitters (the second of two songs here that date back to the Stars And Fireflies EP – the other being Free) take their cue from an ominous shuffling beat, and the song also features Benita atmospherically multitracked on backing vocals.
Love, longing, yearning, feelings tempered with realism – these are the stuff that Benita’s songs are made of, and very persuasively she gets them across to the receptive listener. From the plaintive Distance to the barely controlled desperation of Any Day Now, the brooding drive of While Angels Pray and the knowing declarations of the title track to the sensuous Beautiful: whatever the emotion, Benita’s lyrical vision remains compelling; and yet it proves mildly elusive in that it’s not exactly easy to write about. Nevertheless, what’s not elusive is that her songwriting is top-quality stuff, and it’s music that you just gotta hear for yourself. The album’s production (by Dave Colebrook) is both boldly contoured in its own right and admirably sympathetic to Benita’s unique vocal shadings, while the backings embrace some stunning playing (especially from Dave C and Sally Wyatt on electric guitars and Ben Waller on banjo, but that’s not to ignore Nick Atkins’ percussion and keyboard work either) and some lovely, subtle string arrangements involving Beth Porter on cello and Hannah Porter on viola. The settings conjured up for songs like Devotion and (especially) Any Day Now prove absolutely riveting. Now interestingly, and this even after a large number of plays, I’m still finding that the album gets better as it progresses along its 40-minute course, and by the end of track ten I’d be surprised if you’re not convinced you’re in the presence of an unsung genius.
www.benitajohnson.co.uk and www.myspace.com/benitajohnson
David Kidman
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Larkin Poe – FALL/WINTER (EDVIN 0008/0009)
Rebecca and Megan Lovell’s year-long seasonal journey hereby concludes with the concurrent release of this pair of mini-albums (lasting around 25 minutes apiece). For those who’ve followed the previous two releases, the self-penned material on the final pair doesn’t spring any surprises, with a pleasingly rootsy bluegrass and country base overlaid with pop and folk overtones to conjure a companionable musical backdrop. There’s no quibble with the girls’ vocal prowess (everything is precise and clean, but with just enough persuasive edge to ensure attention during the span of the songs) or with the standard of the musicianship on display (again Daniel Kimbro, Mike Seal and Chad Melton prove suitably trusty bedfellows). But the writing appears resolutely uneven, in spite of its determination and even-handedness (each of the girls gets more or less half-share of the credits on each disc), and there’s a lingering feeling of contract-obligation about these two offerings, which could easily have fitted onto one full-length disc. In addition, the musical climate is sometimes a touch uneasy, even directionless. The more ambitious moments such as the rocking-out Just In Case (on Fall) and the intriguing Desert Dream (on Winter) both ignite a vital spark that indicates the sisters have more to offer, but such instances are compromised by some quite mundane melodic invention on some of the other songs, and several of them just don’t stick in the mind for long enough. Basically, the songs on Fall seem all too easily to settle for tired gestures and plodding electric augmentation, all of which stifle the writing and its lighter imagery, whereas Winter scores marginally better with its more varied palette. Larkin Poe have real talent, but I feel it needs to be more carefully channelled in areas other than the discipline of thematic songwriting.
David Kidman
Larkin Poe – SUMMER (Edvins)
Spring, the initial offering from sisters Rebecca and Megan Lovell under their new collective umbrella of Larkin Poe (actually the name of their great-great-great-grandfather), appeared only a few months ago. It was a pleasing, if at times seemingly random exploration of folk-country and pop that started out with bluegrass and didn’t end up anywhere in particular, although it charmed the senses along the way.
For the sequel, Summer – logically timed to arrive just in time for Christmas! – Rebecca and Megan are once again joined by Knoxville-based Mike Seal, Daniel Kimbro and Chad Melton (on electric guitar, bass and drums respectively), who flesh out the sound very nicely thankyou without overdoing it. They cook up a particularly soulful groove on songs like Natalie and Enough For You (some tasty Garcia-like lead guitar riffing here), but the actual songwriting doesn’t always seem ideally distinguished this time round (maybe they were a touch short on ideas). But the sisters can make it just fine without a rhythm section too, as the wistful piano-backed waltz-ballad By The Pier bears out. What I can’t quite fathom is the rationale for appending three live tracks to the studio recordings of the first six – bluesier and grittier than the rest of the set, they don’t quite fit here (good tho’ they are, with great features like Megan’s dobro work and a keen gospelly vibe energising In My Time Of Dying and a laid-back sense of latent power inhabiting the extended Principle Of Silver Lining – careful with that bass solo, Daniel! – and the bluegrass-rocker take on Massive Attack’s Teardrop comes off curiously well too…). But in the end these live cuts appear no more than makeweights to attempt to conceal the paucity of new songs written for the album – or am I just being cynical?
OK, perhaps the forthcoming Fall and Winter discs will reveal further delights to explain away the seeming wilfulness of Spring and Summer.
David Kidman
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Niamh Ní Charra – SÚGACH SÁMH (HAPPY OUT) (Imeartas Records IMCD. 002)
Killarney-born fiddle and concertina player Niamh first came to attention through the Riverdance show, after which she scored highly with her debut album Ón Dá Thaobh (From Both Sides) back in 2007, on which she was backed by a wealth of Sliabh Luachra musicians. Since then, she won the Irish Music Association USA’s Best Violin/Fiddle Award (2009) and although she’s lately been busy touring with the Carlos Núñez band, has somehow found the time to record a followup CD, which is even more persuasive than its predecessor.
Of its 13 tracks, ten are instrumental; these are admirably even-handed, with half featuring the concertina as main protagonist and half the fiddle. Niamh’s fingerwork on both instruments is suitably direct and replete with a gentle energy: neat and nifty, always reliably following and leading the melody line and displaying a characteristic lightness of touch that’s supremely well reflected in the supporting contributions of the various other musicians, a fine crew this time comprising Robbie Harris (bodhrán, bones, cajón, shaker), Denis Carey (piano), Donogh Hennessy (guitars) and Trevor Hutchinson (double bass), with Tony O’Flaherty (piano), Manus McGuire (fiddle), Mike Galvin (guitar, bass) and Eoín Ó Carra (zither) appearing on one track apiece. That light, airy feel I noted in the playing is especially marked on the delightful hornpipes-and-schottische set (track 7), where the sheer deftness of Donogh’s guitar is quite miraculous in its role as an ideal foil for Niamh’s fleet-fingered filigree box work. There are occasions when the voltage races higher, as on the mixed medley The Blue Horse (track 4), which culminates in a vigorous muiñeira composed by Núñez himself. But of the quick-tempo selections, my favourite has to be the utterly joyous brilliancy of the final set, The Iron Man, which pairs a Scott Skinner strathspey with a reel written by Canadian fiddler Rudy Meeks, played as a twin-fiddle showpiece (Niamh in consort with Manus). The pace necessarily slackens for three slow airs, of which Bruach Na Carraige Báine (an old love song from Munster) is played as a concertina solo, while Niamh’s own composition Fonn Do Eithne, played on the fiddle, functions as a beautifully lyrical prelude to her cautiously tripping slip-jig The Fairy Step (though I don’t think it should’ve been necessary to fade this track out).
I also must give special mention to the three vocal tracks, which turn out to be among the CD’s highlights; the story goes that Niamh was reticent about singing at all on this ostensibly mainly-instrumental release, but in truth she proves herself more than capable in this regard, and on a wide variety of material too. The forlorn love song Sé Fáth Mo Bhuartha is shot through with absolute expressive honesty (and greatly enhanced by her father’s plangent zither accompaniment), whereas the tongue-in-cheek Galway song Cailleach An Airgid is given an accomplished, lively and sparkling performance from Niamh, making the most of the taunting chant that forms its chorus. Best of all, though, is Niamh’s sensibly measured and simply heartfelt rendition of Paddy’s Lamentation, keenly yet sparsely scored for just piano and concertina. These fine vocal tracks not only provide superbly-wrought relief from the principal (instrumental) diet, but make a key contribution on their own terms to what would in any event be an impressive and thoroughly appealing Irish album release with its roots in the tradition.
David Kidman
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A Band Called Wanda – ROSES ARE STILL RED (Own Label, no catalogue number)
A Band Called Wanda is “an enigmatic, energetic quartet from the west of Ireland” playing a decidedly quirky blend of folk-‘n’-roll. And I started off being not entirely sure about this outfit. The opening (title) track with its uptempo Motown shuffle groove, rockabilly percussion and Dexys violin line, seems almost too wilful to convince, but as the disc wears on the band’s wilfulness seems to be their strength in a peculiar kind of way.
The disc’s only an EP, unfortunately, so you only just get used to the band’s strangeness in time to go back and start again!
But there’s plenty of variety in the instrumentation, some charismatic accented vocal work, and a keen sense of musicianship that allays initial misgivings and fears. There having been no press release supplied with the disc, it was only by going to the band’s website that I managed to glean any information at all regarding the personnel, but I can tell you that it comprises Darren Concannon, Derek Naughton, Brendan Dolan and Maidhc Ó hEanaigh, who between them play quite a profusion of instruments (and well). So the disc moves from the relentless but charming harmonica-saddled train-ride of Two By Two, with its kooky vocal interjections and warm brass fills, to the angst-ridden though wistful anthem of the piano-backed Still Haven’t Learned, and the breezy, brassy sunshine-pop confection I See People to the tender Western Lights (which shows more of an Americana leaning) and finally the uptempo Hammond-driven Where Has The Day Gone?
I ended up wanting to hear more, but frustrated at the lack of either followup or background information on the band; I kinda wanda why they need to remain so enigmatic…
David Kidman
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Delta Spirit – HISTORY FROM BELOW (Rounder 6190982)
After last year’s Delta Spirit debut Ode To Sunshine, and an exhaustive post-album tour of its material, the San Diego-based quintet frantically – but surprisingly in view of the energy they’d expended – embarked on the writing of a clutch of new songs, then getting them down in a basement studio as a matter of relative urgency while the heat was still on. This passion and immediacy and sense of confident, rugged bravado characterises History From Below; although you might still describe it as solid roots-barroom-alt-Americana with chunky guitars, driving rhythms and keyboards, there’s a lot more going on than that implies and the songwriting too has added layers of interest that barroom songs don’t necessarily contain. New pieces like Bushwick Blues exhibit a grandly ragged thrash and wonderfully raunchy demeanour (Creedence crossed with Wilco, say), and even the cooler, more reposed moments like Salt In The Wound seem possessed of a restless, twitchy energy. Yes, I believe the whole mix is even more compellingly fresh this time round – and even though the consistency of invention doesn’t quite stretch to the entire 50-minute running time (Golden State is rather mundane, and occasionally Matt Vasquez’s vocals seem to be trying too hard to be raw-edged), it’s a creditable set all told and sounds really good, with some imaginative production touches along the way. Especially memorable moments include Ransom Man’s florid choral cascades, Scarecrow’s spectral outdoors ambience, Vivian’s anguished Neil-Young-style heartbreak, the deep twang interludes on St. Francis, and finally the epic, Phil-Ochs-like Ballad Of Vitaly (recounting the story of a Russian architect bereaved by an air accident). History From Below may not sound all that different from its predecessor in some ways, but I think it’s an even stronger musical statement and album number three will very probably turn out to be a milestone.
David Kidman
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Sweet Sunny South – SHOWTIME (Two Dolla Reccas TDR. 004)
This is a lovely record, as natural and undemonstrative as they come while encapsulating everything that you’d expect from the group name: sweet ’n’ sunny bluegrassy swinging oldtime that makes you feel real good. The members of this four-piece outfit, hailing from Colorado, show they have absolutely nothing to prove and yet in doing so, are able to give us a wholly satisfying musical experience that’s both highly accomplished and no-frills and no-nonsense. Their music-making is old-fashioned, sure: affectionately authentic and gimmick-free, and yet not exactly (or indeed at all) predictable; they strictly observe the conventions of their genre while building a kind of unusual modern edge to their material that’s not easy to define. There are more than hints of rockabilly and boogie-woogie (acts such as the Maddox Brothers & Rose and the Delmore Brothers are as readily recalled alongside the more traditional Stanley Brothers comparisons) and even a smidgen of cajun (on Lodis). The songs are almost all originals from the pen of band member Bill Powers – and darn fine they are too. The band sound is centred around that time-honoured blend of fiddle (Cory Obert), mandolin/banjo (Bill Powers), guitar (Rob Miller) and upright bass (Shelley Gray); it’s a very easygoing sound, but one that’s also shot through with a total joy in the playing and singing. Vocals are handled by all four members of the band, but the solid confidence each one of them exhibits when taking centre stage is quite remarkable even given the group context. And given the many different shadings of the bluegrass/oldtime genre that are all credibly on display here under one 40-minute roof, the whole album has a class, a glorious unity of purpose and execution, a true togetherness, that’s very appealing indeed. Even the closing track, which takes the form of a small-town ad jingle, has just enough substance to carry it beyond the ephemeral. And then finally we learn that the band comes highly recommended by Tim O’Brien… sure enough, and one I’d heartily endorse!
David Kidman
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Various Artists – GHOSTS FROM THE BASEMENT (Weekend Beatnik WEBE. 9046)
In the late 60s and early 70s, well before the terms “alt-folk” and “acid-folk” had been invented, a whole host of talented musicians active in the UK were busy writing and recording, often in determined obscurity. The Clifton area of Bristol was a particular hotbed of such creativity, with many nationally-renowned artists also basing themselves there, and it provided the locale for arguably the most notable of a number of small “cottage industry” record labels, Village Thing, from whose couple of dozen or so LP releases is drawn this musically exceptional (and exceptionally musical) compilation. Omitting only the non-s/s oddballs of the label’s roster (Pigsty Hill Light Orchestra, Fred Wedlock), Ghosts From The Basement is a superbly comprehensive aural document that I’d imagine would richly complement Mark Jones’s recent book Bristol Folk (sadly not received for review). It’s also been the raison-d’être of a sellout concert at Cecil Sharp House… testament to the ongoing latter-day influence of the music it spawned. For those not in the know, the collection helpfully bears the subtitle “Lost songs, dreams and folkadelia from the vaults of Village Thing 1970-74”. Listening afresh to these recordings today, I’m gobsmacked at the sheer amount and level of talent, the seriously accomplished musicianship on ready display. And although many of the individual tracks reek so much of their time, they’re also deliciously un-dated in their impact and each and every one of the artists is heard to possess their own identity, writing and singing with their own voice. Starting with the more familiar names, who are allocated two titles apiece. There’s a well-chosen and contrasted pair of tracks by Wizz Jones (both of his VT albums, recorded three years apart, are available on Sunbeam); Steve Tilston is represented first by a track from his LP An Acoustic Confusion, then second by another song emanating from the same sessions but sourced from the only existing copy of a vinyl test pressing (now there’s rarity for you!); label founder Ian A. Anderson’s vulturic bent surfaces on Time Is Ripe and a glorious, previously unreleased Hot Vultures demo Marie Celeste On Down (now that’s what we call psych-folk!); Al Jones (shortly to be celebrated with a proper expanded reissue of his Jonesville LP) also supplies a fine demo track to contrast with the wry humour of Get Out Of My Car; banjo man Derroll Adams, one of only three non-Brit acts in the package, enthrals with his wonderful deep tones; another of the “visitors” turns out to be Tucker Zimmerman, whose album was recorded at his home in Belgium! The label’s real discoveries also included Dave Evans (who had a penchant for unusual guitar tunings), Chris Thompson (whose mildly epic tabla-infused guitar-raga Her Hair Was Long is like a Himalayan peak towering aloft amidst the disc’s impressive mountain-range) and unprepossessingly-named Dave Mudge (whose distinctly idiosyncratic Memory Book prompts extreme regret that his home-recorded album never saw completion in the label’s final throes).
Other VT artists accorded a single track apiece include the charming Cardiff-based Sun Also Rises (check out their eponymous album, now reissued on Saydisc), stalwarts Hunt and Turner (ditto), country-blues guru Dave Peabody, and the third element of the overseas contingent Lackey & Sweeney, who combined graceful autoharp textures with some intriguing vocal work (kindof Sandy Denny crossbred with Grace Slick!) – and their album’s another highly desirable artefact, judging by the quality of this one selection. What more can I say? The whole package is totally self-recommending, the friendly and well-designed digipack is brilliant and the remastered sound quality is absolutely superb, a model of sharp definition and clarity (even the ultra-obscure home recordings). And it presents the finest possible case for the re-release of more VT original albums (those by Derroll Adams and Chris Thompson for starters); on this evidence these are simply crying out, nay loudly clamouring, for reissue.
David Kidman
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Sally Spring – MADE OF STARS (Sniffinpup Records CD-SNP-0002)
Sally’s credentials are certainly impressive: she was born in California and raised in North Carolina, named a top singer-songwriter by Gerde’s Folk City back in the mid-70s, and subsequently recorded with an array of musicians ranging from Gene Parsons and Tift Merritt to Marshall Crenshaw and Jack Lawrence. And she’s chalked up no fewer than four CD releases prior to Made Of Stars, of which the last, 2007’s Mockingbird, made significant waves in Euro-Americana circles. I heard good things about that record, found out about this new one, and decided to investigate – and I’m so glad I did, for it’s a treasure. It was recorded in Hoboken over the spring of 2009 in the company of her musician friends Ted Lyons (drums, resonator guitars), Rich Feridun (guitars), Graham Maby (bass) and James Mastro (electric guitar, keyboards), with occasional help from Susan Cowsill, Gurf Morlix and Caitlin Cary on harmony vocals, while Harvey Gold, Peter Holsapple, Rooster McGhee, Claudia Chopek and Fred Smith are chief among the cast making guest appearances on the odd track or two. Sally’s responsible for the composition of eight of the disc’s eleven songs, the exceptions being an eclectic mix indeed. Notwithstanding the high quality of Sally’s originals, it’s her tender, heartbreakingly beautiful phrasing on her so-genuinely-felt cover of Johnny Cash’s I Still Miss Someone that for me has gotta be the album standout, where her intensely yearning croon may sound a bit of a dead ringer for Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Timmins (please don’t take that as a negative cos it ain’t!) but wow, what emotion is conveyed – and what a gorgeous guitar part (James Mastro) weaving itself round Sally’s voice in fabulous counterpoint.
The telling way instruments are used is also a feature of other album highlights, notably the old-time-backwoods-flavoured Boys In The Cornfield (which has Caitlin Cary’s plangent fiddle in tow, echoing and commenting on the vocal line then letting its ambience linger in the memory after the melody’s departed) and the disc’s title song (which is blessed with an engaging, dark-hued string arrangement). But all through the album Sally’s glorious vocal work is an outstanding constant; there are other occasions where a direct Timmins comparison can be justifiably invoked (Beautiful Ride and Mattie especially, and the jazzier recorded-live track It Don’t Make Sense), and I guess you could say there are shades of Chrissie Hynde on tougher numbers like the mid-paced jangle-rocker Mercy, but for most of the time Sally’s accomplished, even-toned and natural contralto, though earthy and characterful, doesn’t make a ready comparison with any other singer in particular. Her thoughtful take on Los Lobos’ Short Side Of Nothing is imbued with a quality of poised nostalgia in its delivery that’s both stylish and responsive to the demands of the lyric. As far as Sally’s songwriting’s concerned, it may be gently poetic, but at the same time its underlying intimate qualities of acute honesty and realism, resignation and regret are tinged with (and often matched by) an at times more than tentative hope. The recording, though polished, is wonderfully delicately balanced, and there are so many telling details in the supporting musicianship whether utilising the simplest of settings or opening the texture out gently into chunkier soulful or alt-rock territory; all credit to Ted there. Hey, this is a record to rave about for sure – as well as one that demands full attention where, although initial impressions strike hard, the most careful listening will nevertheless bring deepest rewards.
David Kidman
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Jennifer Leonhardt – MINSTREL’S DAUGHTER (Waterbug WBG. 90)
This is a curious album, and one which I’ve been struggling to make complete sense of principally due to its seemingly wilful nature. Its decidedly strange sonic identity largely stems from the seriously boxy, rather recessed acoustic milieu in which Jennifer’s voice was recorded (her kitchen!), so I’m rather recommending you don’t expect a high-production-value masterwork but instead celebrate a raw, honest encapsulation of the Fort Worth (Texas) singer-songwriter just making music at home with you cautiously eavesdropping. The album shifts around with Jennifer’s moods, picking up on threads of lyrics and loosely (almost too loosely at times) drawing out the strands of melody on the back porch disarmingly and unpretentiously. The austere, melancholy sound of the cello defines both the album’s opening song Neruda and the successive track Dido, but then it sounds as though Jennifer’s moved with her band into the garage for the indie/alt-Americana Make It The Mountain and Minstrel’s Daughter, both of which revolve around a sparse riff and very much feel they could almost have been made up on the spot. The central song, More Rope, is probably disc’s the most persuasive offering, its mournful lyric of “constant sorrow” ideally reflected back in the opaque guitar lines and swirling violin backing (Sarah Stollak). Me And Abigail, which follows, also satisfies with its reminiscence-driven lyric and ringing, chiming guitar accompaniment (courtesy of the album’s co-producer Jeff Rady), then Line Of Fire conjures a heavily pensive and defiantly judgemental lyric to a restless, unsettling instrumental backdrop.
This is followed by the powerful resonances of Black Madonna and Let The Wretched Come Home, both of which seem to take a freeform stance on their simply expressed thoughts (the latter is particularly disturbing, though, with its moody treated drumming mantra). The appealingly troubadourial air of the brief final song Kerby Lane Jubilee is then supplemented by a couple of equally short, entirely uncredited hidden items that leave me further pondering the virtues of preparation and polish in recording terms (the second of these is at best fragmentary and actually appears unfinished). As I said, Jennifer has given us a curious album, one that doesn’t lack magic in its own peculiar and primitive way but still takes quite a bit of getting used to even if like me you can readily accept her uncompromising insistence on down-home production values.
David Kidman
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Marianne Green – DEAR IRISH BOY (Glas Records MEGCD. 02)
This is a little gem of an independent release that’s sneaked out over the past few months and has proved a thoroughly charming and lasting listening experience ever since I managed to acquire a copy. But Marianne’s will be a new name to the vast majority of readers, I’m sure. She’s a captivating singer (and, we learn, a professional step-dancer and dance teacher); she has a pronounced Northern Irish accent, and yet it turns out she grew up in Denmark, the child of an Italian mother and a half-Danish, half-English father. I’m not sure whether she’s currently based in Northern Ireland, but Dear Irish Boy, her debut full-length CD (an EP was released back in 2004), was recorded at Colum Sands’ Spring Records studio in Rostrevor, Co. Down, and produced by Andy Irvine – whose aural presence extends way beyond that of backroom boy (for he’s Marianne’s principal accompanist, playing bouzouki, mandolin, mandola, bass-bouzouki and harmonica). And yet it’s Marianne’s own singing that remains in firmest focus, lilting enchantingly above the constancy and strength of Andy’s distinctively deft, imaginative and entirely responsive playing. The spirit of the music-making is refreshingly informal and unpretentious, and there’s evidently a very keen bond between the singer and her accompanist. In terms of character, Marianne’s is a light-textured voice, pure and delicate (perhaps the closest reference points in terms of timbre being Cara Dillon or Altan’s Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh); she displays a telling maturity, seemingly effortless poise and total confidence of line.
Her lyrical, intimate delivery is exceedingly beguiling, and is a good indication of the intuitive manner in which she relates to the song texts, whether they be familiar (Bonny Portmore, The Doffin Mistress, The Banks Of The Bann) or not (Carrickmannon Lake, The Wreck Of The Newcastle Fishermen), while she’s equally persuasive whether singing in English (the majority) or Irish (just two of the dozen tracks). All credit to Colum’s engineering skills here too, for the recorded sound is at once totally clean and detailed and believable, with just the right degree of bloom to avoid disturbing the intrinsically minimal, pared-down nature of the arrangements. Although Andy takes the lion’s share of instrumental duties, Gerry O’Connor plays violin on Carrickmannon Lake and Colum himself adds some concertina or double bass on a couple of songs. Andy’s parts tend involve a degree of multitracking, but this is unobtrusively and sympathetically managed, as are the very modest enhancements to Marianne’s voice (in the form of vocal chordings or harmonies for effect, as on the title track and the delightful You Make Me Fly). The latter-mentioned is one of a pair of lovely little self-penned songs tucked in amongst what’s basically a traditional collection; Cian’s Song, written by the album’s executive producer Martin O’Hare, is the third odd-one-out in that respect, but this is also a considerable success in Marianne’s hands. I do, however, miss the chance to learn something of the songs’ origins, since there are no notes with the otherwise attractive and admirably economical and eco-friendly package (or indeed on Marianne’s website). But, that one matter of presentation aside, this beautiful record proves beyond all doubt that the quality of restraint in performance, both in expression and setting, is one of the most treasurable virtues any artist can possess.
David Kidman
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Vancouver-based Jonas, best known as front-man for Canadian Americana band Headwater, here presents an attractively-illustrated package containing a seven-track, 25-minute solo album that, while shortchanging us somewhat with its brevity, does not shortchange us on emotional impact – this despite its gently warm, if elusive ambience and at times overly sweet tonal character. The generally rueful nature of Jonas’ songs is ideally complemented by the spacious production and often achingly beautiful settings, which notably involve Tim Tweedale’s lap and pedal steel, along with extensive additional contributions from multi-instrumentalist Matthew Rogers and consistent backing vocals from Andrea Eder, also incidental cameos from Shawn Hall, Matt Bryant, Joanna Chapman-Smith, Ricardo Khayatte and Cam Grant (four of these making up a particularly luscious vocal ensemble on Drinking The Water). Each of the songs has its own special character and addictive quality, from the clattery yearning of Winter Song to the wistful reflections of Time, the tender Paul-Simon-like acoustica of Morning to the insistent, driving regret of Rolling Like A Stone, not forgetting along the way to soak up such telling details as the eerie earth-shuffle percussion that accompanies Burial Ground. And the whole thing closes with a faithfully rendered and entirely convincing cover of Peter Gabriel’s Mercy Street that shows Jonas to have considerable empathy with its sentiments. This album grows on me so much that I just can’t believe there’s no more in the can. David Kidman
Jonas Shandel – JONAS SHANDEL (Nowhere Town NTR. 0901)
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Robert Plant – BAND OF JOY (Decca/Universal 2748331)
Fresh from the runaway success of his Raising Sand album with Alison Krauss, Plant’s latest project takes his roots interests a stage further while revisiting the name of his first ever band (vintage 1967). But much of the feel of the album is more akin to Led Zeppelin in its “III” era, with at times slightly heavier instrumentation but with Plant’s erstwhile vocal histrionics reined in or non-existent. His backing band takes on Buddy Miller from the Raising Sand touring band, then Darrell Scott, Byron House and Marco Giovino, with Patty Griffin superseding Alison Krauss in the female vocal role (and Bekka Bramlett on a couple of tracks). There’s a great sound to the album generally: notably a burnished epic quality to the standout cuts Silver Rider and Monkey (both covers of Low numbers, and in Plant & Griffin’s hands, wonderfully sensual), and a satisfyingly controlled sense of proportion and lightness of touch to the infectious mando-flecked opening cover of Los Lobos’ Little Angel Dance. Plant also turns in a genial version of the (First-Light-vintage) Richard Thompson song House Of Cards, making good capital of its shantyesque responses; he returns to “Oh Brother”/gospel territory for the banjo-oriented Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down, and then manages an eerie, unexpectedly down-tempo take on the old-time staple Cindy. The closing track Even This Shall Pass Away is a bit strange, with chugging funky percussion counterpointing a bluesy Zepp-like setting of parable-like verses by Theodore Tilton. Perhaps the retro-pop-Merseybeat feel of You Can’t Buy My Love and the steely-doowop of Falling In Love Again sit a trifle uneasily among the rootsier or more heavyweight tracks that surround them, but they pass by amicably enough I guess and the musicianship carries them across the divide in the end and doesn’t seriously mar the overall impact of the album.
David Kidman
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I’ve been singing the praises of this Canadian trio for a few years now, and each time they tour the UK they seem to win a host of new fans, but still they remain the province of the cognoscenti, the connoisseurs of song, rather than achieving anything like household-name status even within the folk fraternity. Perhaps it’s because they really can’t be pigeonholed (and good for them!) – they do so many things so damnably well for a start. And they stride boldly ahead with the all-embracing and thoroughly sensible maxim that a good song is a good song, whatever its provenance. All power to them, I say!
So, in honour of the trio’s 20th anniversary (believe it!), the estimable Mick Peat has brought out a special “tour edition” compilation CD that provides the finest possible kind of shop-window for them to proudly display their multifarious wares. It assembles representative tracks from four of their five CD releases (the lion’s share, six, from Heart’s Delight, and four from Lost In A Song, topped up with three from Silks and Spices and one from the seasonal offering Feasts And Spirits).
Quite simply, Finest Kind – who comprise Ian Robb, Ann Downey and Shelley Posen – have got it all: all three are excellent singers, but together their grasp of harmony and counterpoint is truly second to none, whereas none of them is anything less than a highly competent instrumentalist. Shelley and Ian are both songwriters of note too, while the group members’ individual and collective appreciation and understanding of idiom and heritage from all parts of the musical compass is singularly impressive.
Thus, on this collection we find a comparatively unorthodox (but totally valid) take on a Bob Dylan song (The Times They Are A-Changin’) alongside an equally unexpected treatment of a song from the deepest English tradition (Banks Of The Sweet Primroses); a thoughtfully rousing account of Kipling’s A Pilgrim’s Way as set to music by Peter Bellamy cheekily set alongside the pop classic Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? and the novelty number Home In Pasadena; Shelley’s own powerful commentary No More Fish and his celebration of the joys of singing Fa-Sol-La; Utah Phillips’ iconic Goodnight-Loving Trail; and, to round it all off perfectly, the old Marty Robbins chestnut At The End Of A Long Lonely Day. Is this all Good Enough For You? Well, it should be!
So get yourself off to one of Finest Kind’s current crop of tour dates forthwith and sample the joys of their live music-making and the brilliant, warm, all-inclusive rapport they achieve with their audiences; then buy this CD, and if this process hasn’t converted you to a fully-fledged card-carrying Finest Kind aficionado overnight, well… I rest my case there…!
David Kidman
This excellent Canada-based trio (which comprises Ian Robb, Ann Downey and Shelley Posen) is preparing the ground for its next scheduled UK visit (in the spring of 2011) by releasing its fifth album in ample good time. For Honour & For Gain is a further example of everything they do so enviably well: a professionally-planned and keenly-presented hour-long menu of 18 tracks representing folk eclecticism at its best (I ought to say of the finest kind!), all couched in unstintingly superb singing (solo and ensemble alike) with plenty of close-harmonies to die for. You can sure tell that Finest Kind have been singing together for close on 20 years, yet there’s no touch of staleness or predictability about their performances; even though they feel no need to depart from their trusty brand of music-making, they never fail to delight the listener and yes, they’ll still surprise even the hardened connoisseur of good songs with their fabulous choice of material. But of course, For Honour & For Gain takes its title from the text of the comparatively well-known Claudy Banks, one of the disc’s pair of Copper-Family-originated selections, which is sung here as a belated tribute to the late Bob Copper. Once again Finest Kind run the gamut from English traditional folk staples (Lowlands Low, Bay Of Biscay) to old-time (the poignant Short Life Of Trouble) and country classics (George Jones’ She Thinks I Still Care, Jimmie Rodgers’ Why Should I Be Lonely?), from shanties (a vibrantly syncopated quasi-calypso take on Bully In The Alley, and Howard Kaplan’s little-known – but fun – hovercraft shanty From Dover To Calais) to some priceless examples of contemporary song (Utah Phillips’ touching He Comes Like Rain, Carol Denney’s powerful and dignified war song The Riley Boys). As often with Finest Kind, the standout moments tend to come with the trio’s exposure of largely unknown masterpieces of song. In pole position alongside the above-mentioned contemporary pieces is their strikingly poised account of the sea ballad Thomas And Nancy, one of two songs on the disc which were collected in Newfoundland as recently as 1920 by Elisabeth Bristol Greenleaf; this compelling rendition is led by Shelley’s wonderfully firm bass voice, onto which are grafted some spine-chillingly adventurous harmonies from Ann and Ian.
They also turn in a tremendous acappella version of Song Of The Lower Classes, which, though based on the Ernest Jones poem (as sung by Martin Carthy) has been updated with hindsight – and given a bold new tune – by Ian himself. The trio also raises the roof with the rousing Tenting On The Old Camp Ground and the jaunty music-hall ¾ of Farm! Farm! (A.K. Dawson’s good-natured dig at the turn-of-the century colonists of Saskatchewan), and there’s some generous self-deprecating humour thrown in for good measure on John Barleycorn Deconstructed, where Shelley takes us through exactly what to expect in a typical Finest Kind rendition of the time-honoured folk song (or at least one of the million or so variants of it!). The three exceptional singing voices really don’t need any accompaniment – I could readily listen to several albums’ worth of acappella from them – but when appropriate (on exactly half of the disc’s selections) they easily take up instruments (in particular, Ian’s a dab hand on the concertina), or avail themselves selectively of the talents of the disc’s co-producer James Stephens (fiddle, viola, mandolin) and – on one track apiece – the specific skills of Brian Sanderson (brass), Michael Ball (fiddle), Jeff McClintock (piano) and Jody Benjamin (triangle). But what newcomers to Finest Kind invariably find most astounding is that the trio is not only so stylistically versatile but also does everything so damnably brilliantly, and carries its audience right along with it. Simply, their seriously accomplished musicianship carries with it both the ring of authenticity and an essential, inherent spontaneity, qualities which for me guarantee For Honour & For Gain a place in the top ten of 2010’s folk album releases: of that there is no doubt.
David Kidman
Finest Kind – GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME (ADA Recordings ADA113CD)
Finest Kind – FOR HONOUR & FOR GAIN (Fallen Angle Music FAM. 09)
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Welsh Geoff – ROCK AND FRIGIDAIRE (Own Label, no catalogue number)
So many artists disappoint when they get round to releasing a CD; you buy it at a gig, then find when you play it at home it just doesn’t capture the essence of that artist or what you specially enjoyed about that artist when seeing them perform live. Of course, that’s fine if it’s intended as a deliberately different product, a studio production with all the self-evident technical and artistic aspirations that go with such an exercise (as opposed to a basic studio re-creation of the live act). But the pure studio artefact is not Welsh Geoff’s aim; instead, here is a perfect example of a gig-purchase-CD that delivers into your living-room (or wherever) a faithfully-recorded re-creation of Welsh Geoff performing his songs live (with all the pluses of direct miking and none of the drawbacks of a troublesome audience), every song faultlessly reproduced for posterity yet still performed with absolute conviction and confidence. Geoff’s songs are all self-penned, and on many of them he can be termed just not so much a songwriter as a songmaker (in some cases much in the Ray Hearne sense of utilising or paraphrasing existing tunes for his proud local-historical flights of fancy). The songs tend to work on a very immediate level of listener response, for Geoff’s gift for stringing together words and language is as pronounced as his gift for guitar and banjo playing (well skilled at all times, yet refusing to steal the limelight from the lyrics). Geoff’s expert playing shows a good understanding of the blues and folk idioms, yet his songs might be considered to have more in common with Jake Thackray (than, say, Bert Jansch or John Martyn), in whose recordings an enviable lightness of touch tends to disguise the “profundity dressed up as nonsense” aspect of his invention. Many of Geoff’s songs concern themselves with whimsical, reminiscence-driven accounts of local characters or places or events: local, that is, to South Wales, Swansea and the Gower region in particular (where Geoff’s from, need I say!). This ten-song selection is the tip of Geoff’s iceberg (he’s written around 100 over the years but only produced two privately-released CDs in the past). From the “local-hero epic” narrative of Big Joe Williams And The Lion to the more reflective portrait of Olchfa Wood, the wry yet affectionate rock’n’roll musings of the title track to the in-joke motorcycle musings of Life’s An MZ, the thought-provoking exploration of The 18-Inch Seam to the genial good humour of the gazetteer visited by Dafydd’s Bus, Geoff’s companionable manner and his easily assured way with his storytelling ensures an immediate appeal for his songs with almost any audience, who can be relied upon to respond with more than a chuckle and a ready smile on the visage. His songs may be quirkily individual, but they’re also “pretty much self-explanatory, perhaps”, as Geoff himself bluntly (if mildly dismissively) states in his pithy liner-note to one song (The Denver Train); for one feels that the songs just find him and trip off his tongue (rather than the other way round). Some listeners may feel that this very ease of communication may be a double-edged sword, in that, because Geoff’s superbly-crafted delivery provides an effective first-time-impact for his tall tales or canny commentaries, it may be harder to gauge the depths of those profundities lurking beneath or beyond if you’re led to believe you’ve “got it” first time round. So don’t be deceived – prepare to dig deeper… Or not to worry, for Rock And Frigidaire undeniably succeeds as an entertaining and often fun product that won’t disappoint fans of Geoff’s writing or his winning live presence.
David Kidman
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Cupola – IVY (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Cupola is a threesome comprising experienced Derbyshire duo Doug Eunson and Sarah Matthews, and like-minded musician (though no relation!) Oli Matthews. Together they present a vibrant mix of songs and dance tunes. The latter, in the majority on this disc, are clearly very much inspired by the likes of Blowzabella and Andy Cutting, scored and played with all the panache and ebullience of those noted practitioners.
Typically, the arrangements of tunes (sourced both from the tradition and contemporary writers such as John Dipper) have plenty of brilliance in timbre and energy, with the strong primary colours of fiddle and two melodeons supplemented with, and counterpointed by, soprano sax, clarinet, viola, hurdy gurdy and a smidgen of percussion. Three of the tracks imaginatively combine a traditional song with a tune: that of a local (ie Derbyshire) variant of Spencer The Rover and a Swedish polska is particularly intriguing, and who’d have thought of nestling John Barleycorn snugly in within the morris tune The Cuckoo’s Nest?… while one of the other tune-sets even strings together versions of the same tune (which has since been identified as John Spiers’ Hungry Badger’s Delight) in 3/4, 5/4 and 4/4! The sheer spirit of the trio’s ensemble work is especially well captured in the tricky Polska Set (track 7). Pick of the various songs is the lone non-traditional item, The Homeless Wassail, a dark modern take on the traditional wassail by Ian Robb (of the Canadian trio Finest Kind), which features some great harmony work – as also does the final Wassail on the disc, sung acappella. Even the more well-known of the traditional texts are innovatively clothed in sparkling new melodies (that which Sarah now brings to John Barleycorn is a real winner). Keen research, attractive presentation and fine playing and singing from these underrated musicians – what more can you desire?
A satisfying and extremely enterprising release.
David Kidman
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Various Artists – MILLS AND CHIMNEYS (Fleet Arts/Derbyshire Libraries)
Earlier this year, a series of concerts was staged across Derbyshire as part of the county’s Literature Festival, celebrating the county’s historical past through song. A collaboration between Fleet Arts and Derbyshire Cultural & Community Services, Mills And Chimneys was coordinated by local singer/songwriter David Gibb and featured the combined talents of local performers Sarah Matthews, Lucy Ward, Julian Butt, Elly Lucas and Mike Smith, who, together with David himself, were working together for the first time as an ensemble. The vibrancy and excitement of this grouping is well captured in this excellent recording of seven songs from the project, which are given a variety of imaginative and thoroughly credible acoustic-based musical treatments ranging from folk to contemporary pop. The songs were mostly “written by committee” but don’t lack unity in any way; they boldly and evocatively tackle subjects as diverse as working in the Derwent Valley’s cotton mills to local customs and characters, via a telling narrative of a workhouse girl (Alice In The Bacon Box, brilliantly characterised by Lucy). Two songs, The Hartington Hawker and William Slack, derive from the winning entries in a Derbyshire Libraries socio-historical lyric-writing competition, but these are virtually indistinguishable from the rest in terms of the skill and craft with which they’ve been put together. Of the rest, the rousing Well Dressing Song is worthy of an Albion Band opus, while Sanctuary poignantly examines the alienation that industry brings to a community and the quality of its personal life and Cotton Dust makes good use of the familiar Jolly Beggarman tune. The musical settings are both intelligent and beautifully coordinated, as are the actual performances. The quality of the writing and performing is so good that I’m wishing that time and resources had permitted a fuller exploration in song of Derbyshire’s social and industrial past; if that ever comes to pass, then these musicians will be the ideal team to undertake the project.
www.myspace.com/millsandchimneys
David Kidman
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Jon Harvison – STILL WATER (Unlabelled UNLABEL. 012)
Although Jon’s presence is always welcomed at our folk clubs and festivals, it’s also good to see he’s not forsaken the recording studio. Still Water, his carefully-considered followup to 2006’s rather fine Alibi Of Innocence, observes the basic pattern in that it features new self-penned songs that have been thoroughly road-tested (and necessarily tweaked) at live gigs, here enhanced – and in some cases quite transformed – by their fresh studio settings. Jon, demonstrating no little accomplishment here in taking sole responsibility for the technical side of the production, has lavished no little care and thought on the arrangements, which have been consciously crafted for posterity listening in the home environment yet still retain a quality of immediacy that seems to stem at least partly from Jon’s increasingly able and astute vocal expression of the songs’ sentiments. Eight out of the disc’s ten tracks are original compositions of Jon’s, and these bear the typical Harvison hallmarks: quirkily observant and well-intentioned, genuinely right-on commentary on aspects of life, as often as not set to a time-signature with a slightly unpredictable (I’m tempted to call it irregular, but it’s unlabelled!) distribution of bar-line divisions that deviates from more obvious structural expectations. Yet at the same time this latest CD largely possesses a very individual musical character that’s quite different to its predecessors (a Good Thing, of course): this derives from the specific inspiration Jon has gained from his fellow-musicians who play on the recording, in particular from Dave Moss and Masha Kaestner (aka Lightgarden), whom he terms his “production muses”. On just over half of the tracks, Masha’s Indian harmonium adds a fulsome and consoling ambience, this distinctive sound blending beautifully with the inventive weaving lines of Dave’s violin and viola; Dave also contributes some telling, intricate bouzouki embellishments here and there. Although I wouldn’t want to focus unduly on the unusual aspect of the scoring of much of the album, it can nevertheless impart an intriguing and equally unusual perspective to the songs themselves.
One Sky, a plaintive and heartfelt song about being close to people who are far away, is perhaps too literally remote, and a touch over-mellow with its prominent piano part – an impression that’s reinforced posthumously by the more immediately focused intensity of the ensuing track, the title song, which conveys a suitably unsettling climate through its sparse and strange palette (guitar, harmonium, slide guitar and a wonderfully eerie flute part courtesy of Maggie Boyle). The dubious rationale for the Chinese building a road up the north face of Everest is reflected on the song of that title, the trudge of the percussive beat and Dave’s overtone singing representing the clash of cultures and moralities and emphasising Jon’s commentary on the sheer incongruity of the project. According To Paul, a song about hope built around BBC weatherman Paul Hudson’s peculiar way of placing emphasis within his stock-phrase “the sun will rise”, is another distinct success in terms of arrangement, with Masha, Dave and Jon backed by some subtle and delicious percussion (Gary Hammond) and bass (Chris Newman). In complete contrast, the charming, chansonesque piano-backed love-song The Girl From Helsinki is almost parlour-chamber in mood and texture. Whereas Gates Of Eden Closing’s admirable, if would-be-Dylanesque political-protest mode comes over a touch forced in places, perhaps even hamfisted in its use of cliché (Gary’s friendly percussion on this track tends to accentuate this impression and blunts the song’s intended edge). But wait – for the best is yet to come however, on the first of the disc’s non-Harvison-penned items: a gorgeously dark-toned treatment of the traditional Scarborough Fair, which is blessed with a widescreen pastel-shaded string-rich setting that ebbs and flows with gently opulent yearning and a lovely keening flute obligato, a sublime backdrop that both reflects and underpins the masterly tenderness of Jon’s vocal. After this outstanding track, I must say I feel the album winds down a touch, with a version of Poverty Knock (OK it’s a good one, but it doesn’t really fit here – I cynically wonder whether it’s been included as a smoothly operated gambit to ensure airplay on Radio 2’s Cowshed Show!) and the written-to-order Happy Song, which still fails to quite convince me (even if its carefree mode and lyrics are taken slightly tongue-in-cheek). Finally, the album’s closer, Good Day, sees Jon revert to simple vox-and-guitar mode on a thoughtful song that’s certainly gained in impact from Jon’s decision to slow down the full-charge live-performance tempo for the recording; like many of Jon’s songs, Good Day improves with deeper acquaintance. In all, Still Water may not be Jon’s strongest set in all, but he is to be congratulated for (again) daring to be different, to take chances, producing a brave album with its own strong identity and integrity.
David Kidman
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Philip Cockerham – JANGLEBUDDY (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Well it doesn’t seem long since Philip brought out his excellent (I suppose you could call it his comeback-debut) CD Waiting For The Age Of Reason, but it turns out to be well over a year, during which he’s been kept busy with lots of live gigs, either solo or with the brilliant double bass player Dave Bowie Jr. The latter musician therefore joins Philip on the majority of this new album’s dozen tracks, providing an empathic and responsive foil to Philip’s own expert fingerwork (guitars, bouzouki, mandolin) and keyboard skills. But arguably what strikes the listener even more than the superb instrumental playing is the quality of Philip’s self-penned songs (that’s eight out of the twelve, plus the opening instrumental squib – although to be fair, significant parts of the remaining three are of his own devising too!). The wellspring of emotional circumstances and responses from which Philip’s songs may originate is impressive, and his singing convinces on every count, whether conveying the acerbic commentary of Billy Bragg (a creative interpolation of his Half English with a Barleycorn bookend) or the tender, moving portrait of a couple in the grip of Alzheimer’s (Lullaby), powerfully exploring a failing relationship (Fighting In Whispers – this one and the following track, Song For Adam, both to my mind possess the well-crafted demeanour of a classy Clive Gregson opus), having a lot of fun with not-entirely-tongue-in-cheek predictions and resolutions (100 New Year Promises) or raising the rafters with anthemic communal optimism (All Pull Together – for some time now possibly Philip’s most popular gig-closer). I also really liked Dream On, a delicate evocation of a child’s experience of thoughts and ideas tumbling around in his head during the time between waking and sleeping. Philip’s political views are tellingly expressed on the quite reasonably anti-fascist Shine Again, while his condemnation of war is abundantly clear in his revisit of (The White/whatever colour Cockade) – often referred to as New Beret – is a heartfelt and very pertinent contemporary response to a news item about the fate of a South Yorkshire lad in military service, while his avowedly racy interpretation of the traditional Unquiet Grave puts the ballad in a fresh new perspective. Philip’s solo performance is extremely persuasive, and his standing on the acoustic/folk scene is further confirmed by the willing presence of the extra guests he’s been able to call upon for occasional support (singers Charlie Barker, Tom Bliss, Duncan McFarlane, Joanne Lewis and The Backyard Buskers, and pianist Tim Caesar), and by the inclusion of some characterful and exceedingly apt artwork by the young Ruth Switalski. So go buy this fine CD, and you too can become Philip’s Janglebuddy…
David Kidman
Philip Cockerham – WAITING FOR THE AGE OF REASON (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Philip’s an accomplished musician, singer and songwriter (based in West Yorkshire), who’s always written, sung and played music, but now that his family have grown up and reached their own “age of reason”, he’s been able to find the time to properly address some of the issues life’s raised and branch out into the acoustic folk scene with his music. This CD covers all the relevant bases, with Philip’s songs taking a wry and often edgily poignant look at aspects of life, whether his own or that around him. Here, Philip proves he has the knack of writing songs that make a point, concisely and memorably, as well as the gift for putting together attractive and unassumingly inventive musical settings that complement rather than distract. And he’s an excellent singer and instrumentalist to boot, so you know you’re in for an exciting ride on this batch of 14 songs (and one instrumental). All sorts of memories and emotions are evoked in Philip’s songs, and the passionate delivery, driving riffs and rock-style arrangement of My Father’s Shoes make for a strong opener to the disc that’s hard to follow. I’m not sure that I’m So Happy I’m A Banker fits the bill at this stage of the CD, but it’s still an annoyingly catchy little commentary with which we can all totally identify. Philip then picks up the thread of memory again, tracing his life from first day at school (the appealingly 60s-styled Orange Juice And Cold Potato Stew – no, it wasn’t a closet hallucinogenic!) through the thoughtful science of Bones (shades of Tim Minchin perhaps?), the cautious self-exploration of the bluesy Slow Turning Man and the plaintive, John-Martyn-like Save You, through the passage of time as Philip experiences it. Magic is another of those late-60s moments distilled in rippling acoustic guitar and percussion with a glorious cello counterpoint (Carol Yeadon), while If You Take Care Of It moves effortlessly into 70s Beatles/Badfinger mode. The more introspective moments also score through their aptly simple expression of often complex emotional states, and what shines through powerfully is Philip’s overriding optimism (Don’t Be Blue and the wistful I Wish I’d Met Somebody, the latter being one of two songs further enhanced by a superb second guitar part from Duncan McFarlane and also sporting a delicate oboe solo from Philip’s trusty keyboard). Summer Muse perfectly conveys a state of post-illness disorientation, that unsettling, itchy, desperate limbo, whereas Green Blues evokes a Jackson C. Frank or early-Steve-Tilston troubadour style (the delicious arrangement on this track is further evidence of Philip’s acute ear for sublime textural fills and ingenious touches) and Baby Be There is infused with the spirit of indie-rock. The all-too-brief folk-rock instrumental The Crack forms a thumping good (if distinctly McFarlane-esque) interlude before the final song, Last Orders, which closes the time-frame circle with a heartfelt portrait of Philip’s grandfather, who was not only a proud soldier but a hero in so many other ways too. Yes, this CD is sheer quality through and through, and richly repays both your initial investment and many repeated plays. I foresee we’ll be hearing a lot more of Mr. Cockerham in the future.
By the way, Philip has also produced a brilliant Christmas charity CD, Hard World – Songs For Peace, all profits from the sale of which will go to Help For Heroes. It contains three tracks, including Phil’s well-loved gig-closing anthem All Pull Together and the seasonal 100 New Year Promises; sporting a really attractive cover design by artist Bruce Wilson (who’d played some cracking electric guitar on the Reason CD), it sells for just £2.
David Kidman
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Kan - Live at The Irish Cultural Centre 13th November 2010
Kan haven’t been together very long and I think this is only their fourteenth gig or something similar; I first saw them at the Colchester Folk Club, all great musicians but a bit like watching four individuals play together; a nascent band. Five months on, the baby has grown up and is learning to walk. Still not quite at the stage where they write songs together, there’s much more experimentation involved with the live sound, despite the technical difficulties at the venue that resulted in complimentary tickets being handed out to the audience.
I’m looking forward to seeing how this band grows and develops; with the tunewriting skills of O’Rourke and Finnegan the outcome is looking very exciting- I’m looking forward to the album that Brian spoke of recording in February. I just hope that pressures of conflicting interests don’t cause this band to fall apart before they’ve even got going.
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Tensheds – CRAZY BEAUTIFUL (White Wail Records WWR. 006)
Tensheds is the pseudonym for Matthew Millership, troubadour songwriter and pianist; he’s been gigging extensively over the past few years supporting artists from Paul Young and Pam Tillis to Roger Chapman and the Arctic Monkeys and in 2009 winning the Northern Trax Award. Crazy Beautiful brings together under one roof eleven of Matt’s own compositions, showcasing the various musical styles he can adopt with chameleon-like ease. Its opening tracks promise well: Go Out On The Weekend, a slow piano-ballad with a poetic lyric, well-upholstered string arrangement and attractively smoky-raspy vocal, establishes a strong identity at the outset, then Angel Of London adds a more overtly soulful ambience into the mix. Later on, Matt adopts an authentic skittish uptempo Johnny Cash rockabilly rhythm groove for Sentimental Feelings, whereas Flying Cars is a passionate, wistful heartbreaker (and an album standout) and Sell Another Soul finds Matt back in the luscious but credible setting of the disc’s opening track. Which leads me to observe, however, that for rather much of its length the album tends to switch between the various musical modes on what seems a kind of automatic-selection basis (the distinctly clunky formula rocker of City Dreams predictably sandwiched between formula slow ballads Stains and Road Movie, for instance), with the result that, although I find several of the tracks both accommodating and satisfying in their own right, the procedure doesn’t carry credence beyond a span of three or four songs. Expert production and fulsome backing (a formidable crew of talented musicians under the overall control of multi-instrumentalist Chris Corney) do all they can to lend Matt’s writing a grand sheen, but this quality can’t in the end quite redeem the oddly inconsistent aura of the writing and of the disc as a whole.
www.tensheds.com and www.myspace.com/tensheds
David Kidman
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Ray LaMontagne & The Pariah Dogs – GOD WILLIN’ & THE CREEK DON’T RISE (RCA 8697- 65086-2)
While Ray’s last album Gossip In The Grain definitely consolidated his reputation, no doubt it also inspired him to move into the realms of self-production for this year’s followup, which (also for the first time) is credited jointly to Ray and his touring band (Greg Leisz, Eric Heywood, Jay Bellerose and Jennifer Condos, with the occasional addition of Patrick Warren). Yet the emphasis is still firmly on Ray’s world-weary, smokily rasping vocal tones, and the band settings remain relatively sparse for the most part. And here again, no surprise, it’s still the plaintively aching songs like Are We Really Through and New York City’s Killing Me that stick in the consciousness from very first playthrough. But Ray confuses us by ringing the changes at the start of this latest set, the opening cut Repo Man being a fractured, funky, growly blues shuffle with lyrics of a fairly explicit nature. Like the more commercially animated Beg Steal Or Borrow, this sits uneasily with Ray’s usual demeanour. But as the album settles down, however, we’re brought into more typical LaMontagne territory with the aforementioned heartbreakers and the gorgeously melancholy This Love Is Over, which is followed in a masterstroke by the mid-tempo, deliciously banjo-rippled Old Before Your Time. The more expansive anthem of For The Summer, with its shades of Crazy-Horse-era Neil Young, gives way to a wistful, ruminative, harmonica-cradled solo outing, Like Rock ’n’ Roll And Radio, before Devil’s In The Jukebox brings proceedings full circle with a rousing busker-stomper of a finale.
David Kidman
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Shahkilid – NEDÄYE ÄSEMANI (Muziek Publique 002)
This CD was an unexpected pleasure from start to finish, and contained a surprise or two that even my advance perusal of the instrumental lineup (and my previous knowledge of Persian classical music) didn’t quite prepare me for. First let me introduce the members of the ensemble: Shahkilid is in effect a four-piece grouping, led by Tehranese musician Dadmehr (master exponent of the tombak, a cylindrical wooden drum covered with goat’s skin), with Shahram Mirjalali on tar (a long-necked lute with a drone-heavy resonance deriving from its three double strings) and Davood Varzideh on ney (a six-holed hollow-reed flute of antique provenance which is, unusually, tongue-propelled rather than blown), with Sebastian Walnier on cello (this element is described as adding “a western touch”, but this instrument integrates into the overall texture most believably when it is used).
Sebastian actually starts the disc with a solo prelude that sounds for all the world like part of a comparable movement from one of the J.S. Bach cello suites, which however doesn’t quite prepare us for the matchlessly invigorating ensemble work that follows. The most beguiling and stimulating of all seven tracks on the disc is the most extended (16-minute) piece Goftegooe Setareha, an improvisation (initially) pitting strange scurrying percussive cello effects against the abrasive yet alluring twin expressive modes of the ney, which here come to alternate with the oud-like ripplings of the tar, all propelled along by the virtuosic tombak playing that’s so much more than just a rhythmic accompaniment to the melody instruments. At the heart of the piece, the tombak provides an energetic foil for a series of individual solos, beginning with a florid cello outing in the Persian style. The disc’s contents were recorded at a live concert at the Molière, a fairly large (400-seat) Brussels venue with excellent acoustics; there’s no intrusive audience noise, indeed no hint of audience presence, but rather curiously half of the tracks appear to have been faded out somewhat arbitrarily before their conclusion, especially noticeably in the case of the track mentioned above. In compensation, it needs to be pointed out that the recording quality is excellent, with the highest engineering standards that you’d associate with a classical release, and the whole is still a stimulating experience that’s richly repeatable. It’s a pity, then, that the release is further compromised by the liner notes confining themselves to mere biographical information (in several languages), telling us nothing about either the instruments used or the pieces played (which from the bare credits one must assume are based on original compositions).
David Kidman
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The Low Countries – A BROWN CAFÉ AT 3 AM (Nub Country Records, Nub765cd)
The Low Countries turn out to be a new-wave indie-folk duo based in Lancaster, who base their act around the gently quirky songs of one of their number, Nigel Parrington. Nigel accompanies himself on guitar and harmonica, and shares the vocal duties with his “other half”, Els D’hooge, whose plaintively tasty, sublimely innocent tones lead the way on around half of the album’s songs and lend glorious harmonies to some of the rest. If I’m entirely honest, I find much of the music on this (the duo’s third album release, it appears) captivating to a fault, and yet the remainder leaves me comparatively unmoved (the level of interest seems to wane towards the end of the disc); this despite a general consistency in Nigel’s approach, songwriting and delivery. Most of the songs are about friendship and simple romance: a good example of Nigel’s no-nonsense yet genially imaginative writing is A Friend Worth A Name, couched in a lovely yearning melody with fairy glockenspiel sprinkling the softly burnished electric guitar arpeggios. The lazy brushed-snare meditation of Low Country opens the disc and sets both the tone and generally slightly melancholy theme, with Nigel’s voice kinda echoing a tender, wistful Nick Drake-Kevin Ayers sensibility but without the same sense of cryptic depressiveness as the former. The former of those three comparisons is even more pronounced on songs like Ache, perhaps, whereas the latter is recalled more consciously in the wryly jaunty Heart Back. The charming, catchy uke-/mando-tinted If Only (led by Els) feels much like an early ISB number but cheeky-romantic rather than spiritual (think Everything’s Fine Right Now).
Els also sings lead on the Nico-esque (but lighter) Disguise. There’s also a hint of early John Martyn on a few of the songs, especially in Nigel’s vocals, and yet Nigel also gives us a touching, affectionate tribute to Roy Orbison on the track of that name. Elsewhere, on the Syd Barrett-like A Journey, some curious interpolated production gimmicks intrude, and some intentionally-subliminal birdsong (well I think that’s what it is) gets in the way on Ache, but for the most part the album’s unpretentious production values embrace a welcome clarity of definition of inner parts, uncluttered though the arrangements are – although the percussion layers are occasionally slightly fuzzily defined. Instrumentation is sparse, with telling embellishments on melodica (?), bass, banjo and piano (which may or may not be attributable to guests Goldmundo and Ruby In The Dust, both namechecked, purely in passing it would appear, on the press release), and the whole album has a slightly cautious, tentative demeanour that belies the duo’s evident experience; but maybe that’s all part of its charm too, and it leaves me wondering what I’ve been missing hitherto. (Oh and by the way, I learn from the accompanying press sheet that this album has been nominated for the 2011 Grammys: a piece of information that has not influenced my assessment in any way!)
www.myspace.com/thelowcountries
David Kidman
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The Flying Toads – IN STITCHES (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Wonderful band name!
So actually you might expect a comedy album? No sir – this is a band of well talented Irish musicians based in Sussex/Surrey/Hampshire purveying high-quality music for all occasions including ceilidhs, sessions and festival and concert stages. I think this is their first CD, but it sounds as though they’ve been playing this music for ages, and the band members know each other’s abilities and musical tastes pretty well. The lineup is both varied and satisfyingly contrasted in nature, with Erik Faithfull a dab hand on uilleann pipes, flute, whistle and Northumbrian small-pipes, Val Marciandi playing concertina and singing, Keith Whiddon playing tenor banjo and bouzouki and Brian Hirst playing cittern, fiddle and guitar; they employ two different guest bodhrán players (both very good) between seven out of the eleven tracks. There’s an easy skill to The Flying Toads’ playing, but it’s not a complacent approach by any means and the result is far from lacklustre; the album’s tune-sets (around two-thirds of the menu) are characterised by an exciting drive, a momentum that’s born of true enthusiasm rather than a glib desire to crowd-please by maximising the number of notes played!?
And there’s considerable skill, too, in the way instrumental lines and parts are swapped around during the course of the individual tunes; melody lines are unashamedly passed from instrument to instrument but without losing the flow of the musical argument, while accompanimental roles are managed with insight and intelligence. Classy! The treatments are straightforward, traditional but imaginative (eg The Monaghan Twig is played both as a jig and a reel), and tunes are well put together for listening (and I suspect would make for good dancing sets too). Moving to the disc’s song items: these are five in number, and in three cases they’re sensibly paired with tunes (for instance, As I Roved Out comes combined with Lord Mayo and the reel Brenda Stubbert’s, and Belfast City follows on from Trip To Pakistan). If I’ve any reservation, it’s that Val’s singing, while perfectly efficient, does in the final analysis lack the last drop of character and pure tonal bloom that we associate with (or expect from) a lead singer in an Irish band nowadays. She sounds a touch recessed too; the recording itself may be at fault, for I feel sure at times that Val’s more involved in the song than she’s made to sound here. But all in all, if you’re looking for a good solid Irish traditional album without experimental nuances or fancy tricks, executed with respect and unpretentious musicianship, then the Flying Toads deserve to be discovered by your CD player.
David Kidman
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Christy & Emily – NO REST (Klangbad Records 42)
No Rest indeed, either for the wicked or for the listener, on this the third CD release from the obscure Brooklyn-based duo. On paper, they’d appear an odd coupling: Christy Edwards is a guitarist/singer in punk band The Totallys, whereas Emily Manzo is an acclaimed classically-trained pianist specialising in new music; but there’s no clash in sensibilities. Their joint efforts fall squarely into the “weird and wonderful” category, where dark, slightly wonky and sometimes quite cavernous soundscapes envelop the cryptic self-penned songs, all in the spirit of what might be termed creative indie from the folk basement garage studio. Except that the album’s been produced in Germany (in his own studio) by Faust’s Hans Joachim Irmler, at whose Klangbad festival in 2008 the duo made a great impact with their mesmerising, intimate music. In order to provide near-reference-points, I might start by invoking momentary comparisons with Pooka, early Velvet Underground & Nico, film-score Pink Floyd, Mazzy Star – and although Christy & Emily’s vocals don’t have quite the same degree of distinctiveness or erotic power, they do still hypnotise in their own way, especially in the unearthly way they harmonise together.
Opening track Beast lumbers into the frame out of the undergrowth with beating, grinding multi-guitar riffery and a spooky keyboard over-drone, with the charmingly apt first-line “I’m not afraid of what I can’t see any more”, before the song appears to disintegrate with a series of eerie episodic contrasts initiated by that spacey organ and some ghostly vocal harmonies. It’s a challenging start to the record, and demands concentration, but rewards your patience; the air of restlessness that stems from its structure in fact proves deceptive. The ensuing tracks flit along as in a dream sequence, one of restless sleep-like state. Firefly moves from an initially monotonous riff into a chiming gamelan figure which alternates with a seductive vocal mantra and closes on clamorous, fiery multiple arpeggios, while Sundowners, with its barroom honkytonk piano and lonesome harmonica, feels like a curious echo of the Gillian Welch style of backwoods introspection. Cave is a hesitantly sensuous come-on, its nagging ostinato beat and broken cascades of percussive electronica ushering in a rippling, cloying prayer. Things become a touch more orthodox in sound on Little World, which is dominated by electric piano and repeated, reverberant guitar chordings, but its coda is an experimental collage of sampled ambient sounds and thumb-piano; King And Monsters is a brooding lullaby, though superficially benign. The duo’s beguiling brand of folky minimalism enters on Guava Tree, an essay in melancholy storytelling cradled in a quasi-ballad-form and with a potent twist at the end, the gentler Idle Hands, and the episodic and aromatic (green and gold) parlour-tinged psych-folk of the unsettling disc finale Amaryllis. Just before which, Christy & Emily confidently tackle the album’s only cover, Tom Brousseau’s Here Comes The Water Now, about which I still have mixed feelings even after a few plays. But that minor point notwithstanding, and some instances of almost wilfully simplistic awkwardness in the lyrics allied to a semi-conscious musical understatement, No Rest remains a record of definite character, one which certainly inspires further investigation of Christy & Emily’s music through their previous records.
www.klangbad.de and www.myspace.com/christyandemily
David Kidman
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Emma Sweeney – The Other Crossing (Own Label)
Some things are best left simple and, as if to prove the point comes this first recording by Manchester based fiddle player Emma Sweeney sensitively backed by Paul Callick and Steve Byrnes on guitars and rhythm provided by the bodhrans of Tad Sargent and Sam Proctor.
In 2003 she was a finalist of the BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Musician of the year and on the strength of this recording (even though it has been sometime coming and rather short at only five tracks) you can see why. Fully in control of her main instrument (she also plays whistle) with a display of subtle showmanship on the self-composed slow reels “Endless Thoughts/The Last Straw” or the more up-tempo “Mucky Fingers/The Mountain Top/Brid Harper’s” Emma adds drama with a skilful delivery that is high-lighted by Michael McGoldrick’s excellent production. An impressive debut from an impressive performer and hopefully it won’t be too long before a full album is available.
Pete Fyfe
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Skerryvore – Skerryvore (Tyree Records TYREE01CD)
No messing here as Skerryvore kick off with the riff based “Path To Home” featuring a mixture of Jimmy Shand meets the Tannahill Weavers. I’m pleased to say that this is folk-rock that proudly nails its Celtic banner to the mast and leaves the listener with an adrenalin rush that’s hard to shake off. Unlike say the Red Hot Chilli Pipers who go for a full blown stadium sound, Alec Dalglish (vocals/guitars/mandolin), Barry Caulfield (bass), Martin Gillespie (bagpipes/accordion), Daniel Gillespie (accordion), Craig Espie (fiddle) and Fraser West (drums/percussion) paired down approach (much like the early recordings of Runrig) still provide plenty of balls where it counts. If this album is anything to go by then everyone is in for a treat with thrusting, foot-stomping arrangements that will raise the spirits and hopefully any aging folk enthusiasts that like to be ‘entertained’ will find little to carp about. As well as the standard fare of Trad Arr, each member of the band has a hand in crafting the songs/tunes and a great fist of it they make as well. The final ‘live’ track “Home To Donegal” with its rousing anthem style chorus should ensure arm waving aplenty and broad grins all round.
Pete Fyfe
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Mabon – Live at The Grand Pavilion (CD & DVD) (Easy On The Records EOTR. 01)
This double-disc set presents a pair of recordings made during the “OK UK” tour which the six-piece “InterCeltic folk-rockers” underwent last autumn: the (bonus) DVD at the Quay Arts Centre, Newport (IOW, not South Wales!) and the CD at the final date on the tour, on home turf at the Grand Pavilion, Porthcawl (definitely South Wales!). Given the incredible reputation Mabon have as a live band – especially this year – it may come as a bit of a surprise to discover that on this already-phenomenally-well-selling release (loads were shifted at Cropredy!) the audience presence is not overwhelming (which may be counted a good thing for many listeners, but inevitably leads to a slight loss in atmosphere-level), and between-items banter and intros are almost entirely absent. But do not despair, for these recordings are technically excellent, and the combined soundscape and sense of presence is very powerful indeed. Another feature which will probably confuse matters slightly for punters, though, is that the band lineup on this live release differs from the current incarnation in that fiddler and ex-Rainbow-Chaser Ruth Angell, who plays such a persuasive role on the CD and DVD, was a stand-in for the more overtly flamboyant Oli Wilson-Dickson (a true showman if ever there was one, as he proved when he and accordionist Jamie Smith were forced to busk a duo set at Cropredy when the rest of the band were stranded by a breakdown en route!). So this set will be counted unique in recording quite a special tour in the history of the band.
The track menu varies slightly between CD and DVD, with the cool Divers Alarums, a set of Mazurkas and the Breton an-dro extravaganza La Randonnée present on the 10-track CD but not the 8-track DVD, and the epic OK Pewter standout A Hungarian In Brittany spearheading the post-intermission segment of the DVD, which reaches a rabble-rousing climax with the blinder File Under Biddley and Easy On The Reels sets. During the fifty-odd minutes of each set, the music manages to encompass all the points of Mabon’s fascinating geographical compass, its original and wholly invigorating blend of Celtic, Breton, Galician and original fusion. The filming is straightforward, but manages to capture the fun the band are having – even if they don’t appear to break sweat until the final stages! – and it’s good to be able to focus attention on the interplay as well as the overt soloing. In audio only, it’s sometimes easy to underestimate Calum Stewart’s contribution (flute and pipes), but the DVD proves he’s worth his weight in gold, and even I went back to listen to the audio with fresh ears. And I don’t think I’ve heard Ruth play better or more responsively than on the then-new repertoire items, the magnificent if episodic Buck Rarebit and The Tale Of Nikolai The Dancing Bear, nor Jamie than on his own personal (ironically-titled for its absence of fiddle part!) deliberately dextrous showcase Fiddler’s Despair. And I never cease to be amazed at the subtleties of shading Iolo gets from his drumkit, while bassist Matt “The Hat” Downer brings the most chunky of funky lines to underpin both Derek Smith’s inventive guitar work and the big bold front lines weaving across and above his stave. So this package can be considered a must-have document of the tour, one which communicates the musical – if not quite the last scraps of the purely physical excitement – element of the band’s energy at a time when they were on the start of their current roll, one which promises to last right into 2011, with a key appearance planned at Celtic Connections.
David Kidman
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Ewan McLennan – Rags & Robes (Fellside Recordings FECD235)
You sometimes know from the opening track if an album’s for you and this first release by Ewan McLennan is one such recording. In bringing together a selection of tried and tested standards including “Tramps & Hawkers”, “Jamie Foyers” and “Arthur McBride”, McLennan proves that old material can be refreshed and, given a new lick of paint, appear as fresh as the day it was written. In his press release his publicist cites Bobby Eaglesham, Ian Campbell and Archie Fisher as comparisons to Ewan’s vocal style.
If I may be so presumptuous I’d also like to add to the mix the gentle brogue of the sadly departed Tony Cuffe. The inclusion of his own self-penned observations in the form of “Another Morning’s Beggar” and his eloquent anti-war composition “Yorkshire Regiment” also shows that we might have a contender for ‘folk’ songwriter of the year. Now, ‘nice’ isn’t a word I’d often use to describe an artist but if vocal presentation dignifies the character of the performer I’m quite sure I’ve read the signs correctly. There’s nothing rushed in the performance, just a subtle delivery that injects warmth and charm to the lyrics. Not surprisingly this carries over to the inclusion of a couple of ‘cool’ dance tunes “Jer The Rigger/Flower Of Scotland” (Martin Hayes would, I’m sure be impressed!) and a lovely setting of “Auld Lang Syne”. Aided by Peter Tickell’s fiddle and Jackie Oates viola this is an impressive debut by an artist I’m sure we’ll be hearing a lot more of and yet another feather in the cap to Paul Adam’s Fellside Recordings.
Pete Fyfe
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Neck – COME OUT FIGHTING! (Golf Records)
Emerging pell-mell at the bell from the far corner of the ring, here’s another furious full-on assault on your senses from this ballsy London-Irish outfit who would probably make a natural alliance of the Pogues, Clash and Stiff Little Fingers seem as tame as play-school. Though still under the leadership of ex-Popes man Leeson O’Keeffe, Neck’s undergone some lineup changes and other hassles over the past year or three, but the resulting six-piece proves well-matched to its task, both up to it and up for it you might say.
On this sequel to 2005’s Sod ’Em And Begorrah, everybody’s welcome to the hooley once again (from all sides of the artificial divides that beset this world), and there’s five-star mayhem on tap in every room. Though producer Pat Collier has arguably even more faithfully captured the band’s visceral presence this time, it’s still another welcome jab in the arm, another dose of the same medicine that’s guaranteed to cure all ills, rouse the dead and disperse the evil spirits. Again supremely mighty, 200% in-yer-face, brilliantly raucous, and with a mere handful of marginally less decibel-laden moments to give the ears a relative break. Some deceptively countrified vocal harmonies give a false sense of security to I Turn My Face To The Four Winds before the tempo whacks it up for the chorus, while the instrumental Lilting Banshee Set keeps the meter hovering below the threshold for a surprisingly lengthy intro. But elsewhere it’s full-tilt fire, arson at the mercy of the shrieking tin whistle, flaming fiddle and spitting banjo, guitars blazing with high-energy incendiary: so much so that the faint-hearted (or otherwise unaccustomed) may find it all too relentless and unyielding. Neck’s massive wall of sound has copious graffiti scrawled all over it, sure, some of it wilfully derivative, but still I find it impossible to resist the barrage, and all the while the courage of Neck’s convictions remains very persuasive (check out their burnished take on Homes Of Donegal and the solid anthem Ourselves Alone for instance). Half of the disc’s tracks are Leeson’s own compositions, the remainder passionate and gutsy renditions of traditional source material. Maybe the thrash rendition of McAlpine’s Fusiliers is a touch predictable, studied even, and I’m not at all convinced of the need to revisit Star Of The County Down yet again (this latest version is messy and overwrought and adds nothing except perhaps the kickass guitar solo), such crowd-pleasers are probably best experienced live after all. But even the more standard of Neck’s pub-celt gestures knock spots off the competition, and as a bonus it’s refreshing to find a heavy-duty degree of scholarship has been employed in the glossary notes to each and every track (as with the equivalent entries on the band’s previous album, this feature provides a useful guide to terms and expressions used in the songs). The album’s a good time and a life-affirming experience alright, for there’s an abundance of life in Neck’s music, enough to dropkick the proverbial Murphys through the goalposts for sure.
David Kidman
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