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 
Allan Yn Y Fan and Delyth Jenkins – Lle Arrall (Another Place) (Steam Pie SPCD. 1014S)Even nowadays, it’s a sad fact that Welsh folk music tends to get overlooked with the deluge of more heavily-profiled Irish and Scottish releases under the “Celtic” tag. But Welsh band Allan Yn Y Fan have over the past few years been constant in blazing a trail for their nation, releasing a series of increasingly persuasive discs that started out with the all-instrumental Belonging and then took a giant step forward with their latest full-length CD Trosnant, a significantly assured record on which, with the addition to the ranks of vocalist Meriel Field, they expanded their already impressive musical armoury to include songs too. Now on this new five-track EP, a collaboration with harpist Delyth Jenkins, they’ve come up with a very strong and appealing sonic identity while proving beyond any doubt that the musicians are well able to cope with a goodly range of moods and emotions, from the tenderly evocative title track (a really lovely composition by the band’s flautist Kate Strudwick) to the peerless solo harp set that forms the disc’s centrepiece, all capped off by the invigorating nonsense song Hen Ferchetan and the inventive, foot-tappingly upbeat closing dance-tune medley.
There’s a lot going on instrumentally here, with fiddle, mandolin and guitar and plenty of flute and whistle in the texture underpinned by skilful bass work, and the band’s music-making is characterised by an attractively nimble gait throughout. This EP’s such an attractive proposition that you wonder why it couldn’t have been made to last three times as long.
David Kidman
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Willie Nelson – Country Music (Rounder 11661-3280-2)
Over his long career, Willie Nelson’s been a mainstay of country music and his name has for many fans been instantly synonymous with the genre. But this latest album from Willie is evidently so overly plainly titled in order to embrace the whole genre in all its musical guises, for its 55 minutes resembles nothing less than a whistle-stop tour of country music in the company of Willie and his producer T Bone Burnett and a crack backing band that includes Ronnie McCoury, Jim Lauderdale and Buddy Miller. Willie takes us on a glorious parade through the streets of country, starting off on home territory with a revisit of his own composition Man With The Blues and moving on through songs associated more with his fellow-artists but which Willie makes his own here in a very special way. His fresh new takes on such standards as Satisfied Mind, I Am A Pilgrim and Nobody’s Fault But Mine are priceless, while his reworkings of Hank Williams’ House Of Gold, Doc Watson’s Freight Train Boogie, Bob Wills’ Gotta Walk Alone and Hazel Houser’s My Baby’s Gone all also hit the spot right enough. One of the finest of the lot is Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down, here given a spectrally bleak, almost primeval banjo-dominated setting. And Willie’s new treatments of Dark As A Dungeon and Ocean Of Diamonds (albeit slightly mannered vocally) have much to add to the other versions we already revere. I’d be one of the first to admit that Willie’s made a fair few routine and contract-filler-sounding albums in his time, but here Willie’s total involvement in every one of these songs is in absolutely no doubt, even while he exercises a natural restraint to his interpretations, all this abundant artistry making Country Music unquestionably one of Willie’s finest-ever hours on disc.
David Kidman
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Mary Chapin Carpenter – The Age of Miracles (Zoë/Rounder 01143-1133-2)
This new set from Mary is a largely contemplative collection that meditates on time and the impermanence of human existence, from the dark and ominous perspective of the era in which we live. This is hardly surprising when you learn that it was written while recovering from a pulmonary embolism that had forced her to cancel all touring and performing for a whole year; even so, Mary’s writing also embraces, alongside the personal issues, a handful of more global concerns.
The title track binds together those two threads – Mary’s own need to invest in optimism and hope with what she sees as “the world’s weary yet unwavering ability to teach us lessons of humility and grace” – and this perspective is reinforced by I Was A Bird, in which Mary envisions herself flying above the world’s turmoil. Mary’s overriding view is that we live in an age when we can still believe that miracles are possible, this thesis being borne out in her considered references to events such as manned moon landings and the brave protesting of Buddhist monks in Burma. Mary also presents some “imagined stories”, as on 4 June 1989 (the tale of the supreme personal dedication of artist and activist Chen Guang in depicting events at the Tianenmen Square massacre he witnessed when just 17 years of age) and Mrs Hemingway (wherein Ernest H the author’s first wife reflects on “the lost years of the Lost Generation”). Then again, the intense Iceland is arguably the most directly personal of Mary’s latest explorations in song, while We Traveled So Far, ostensibly a celebration of the power of love, forms the necessarily seductive opening to the album. Mary’s Nashville-configured backing band for this new record includes long-time collaborator Matt Rollings and stalwarts Duke Levine, Dan Dugmore, Russ Kunkel and Glenn Worf, with Vince Gill and Alison Krauss each guesting on one song apiece. It’s an inspirational set.
David Kidman
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Martha Tilston – Lucy and The Wolves (Squiggly SQRCD. 05)
It’s been a while since we last heard from Martha. After a spate of successful touring following her acclaimed 2007 CD Of Milkmaids And Architects, she took maternity leave, but she still busied herself writing new songs, ten of which have found their way onto this new album, released to coincide with her next scheduled return to touring during May. Like its predecessor, Lucy And The Wolves is a brave and beautifully intimate record, replete with the enchantingly tactile poeticism and tremulously engaging delivery we’ve come to regard as Martha’s personal trademarks. It’s an inviting, distinctly captivating set, right from the introductory piano chords of the imposing opening song The Cape, which is almost classical in its austerity but typically rich in romantic imagery. Martha moves back to her guitar thereafter, for the limpid Rockpools and then for most of the remainder of the album, where the simply expressed intricacy of her own instrumental traceries is subtly and delicately augmented where appropriate by the brilliant double bass playing of Jon Thorne and mildly layered contributions from members of her backing band The Woods (on violins, viola, cello, bouzouki, extra guitars and percussion) and isolated appearances from guests Maggie Boyle (flute), Will Rumfitt (trombone), Chris Doney (banjo) and Steve James (piano). The overall subtlety of expression extends to the often intriguing perspectives that some distant, almost subliminal miking of individual elements within the soundscape brings; Seabirds both furnishes a prime example of this technique and of the gentle but extraordinarily haunting power that characterises Martha’s writing throughout.
The rest of her new songs are hardly less compelling in their own seductive way: Who Turns is a restless late-night-fireside reflection trying quite desperately to make sense of everything, while Wild Swimming enticingly explores the forbidden fruits of tradition and My Chair further embraces wave-imagery in its flowing reminiscences. Old Tom Cat tellingly evokes the spirit of Leonard Cohen with its rippling guitar figures and minor-key elliptical questioning (not to mention its drawing to a close on the refrain “hallelujah”). Melodically, Lucy (the song) is perhaps slightly reminiscent of early Joni Mitchell, with its twisting turning swoops and dives through the vocal registers. And finally, the closing track, Wave Machine, seems to form a counterpart to The Cape with its crashing, tumbling momentum, strong water imagery and restless string figures. The disc’s one non-original, the traditional Searching For Lambs, is theatrically played out acappella to an outdoor backdrop of cawing crows. The digipack artwork, which as always is lovingly drawn by Martha herself, is just perfect for this gem of an album. Magic.
David Kidman
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Trembling Bells – Carbeth (Honest Jon’s HJRCD. 43)
Be ye prepared to tremble! This music is not for the faint-hearted – and you might feel it’s not even for the slightly less faint-hearted! But it’s definitely for those of us with intrepid minds, and those of us whose sensibilities are at best mildly unhinged. And it’s glorious – I love it to absolute bits. It’s a heady, seriously overpowering trip to and through Carbeth (a suburb of Glasgow, by the way, from the depths of which springeth ye Trembling Bells). Without putting too fine a point on it: rather like the Glasgow dialect and accent, there’s something at first distinctly impenetrable about Trembling Bells’ music: like a dose of the heavy, with its thick textures, full-on vocals and strident folk-rock electrics, but also part-concealing an ostensibly awkward yet rewarding poeticism couched within the sometimes-nigh-inaudible lyrics (which thankfully are reproduced for our closer scrutiny in the disc’s appealingly arty booklet). The disc’s proud opening salvo, the hymnal-like I Listed All Of The Velvet Lessons, dives straight at our orifices, all stately and stentorian, like a track from Robin Williamson’s Myrrh album overlaid with a coarse trombone obligato (an unholy sackbut chorale?) and introducing a wailing, soaring vocal from what sounds like a heavy-duty, altogether more sharp-toned Shirley Collins. This belongs to Lavinia Blackwall – what a stunning voice, quite obviously “trained” but supremely defiant and with much of the edge of the Romany about it too. One can divine from Trembling Bells’ strange and confrontational music the embodiment of the dictum of the band’s charismatic leader, singer/songwriter/drummer Alex Neilson, that the band’s mission is to "reanimate the hidden, mythic landscapes of Yorkshire and Glasgow via a love of canonical rock, Earlie Musik and traditional folk".
It’s a bit like the dynamic late-70s Albion Band sound is being taken to an extreme of pseudo-medieval cacophony, while taking due inspiration from the Strangelies, the ISB, Principal Edwards Magic Theatre and Alasdair Roberts along the way. Alex’s enigmatic, characterfully obscure yet aromatic lyrics are brilliantly matched by the instrumental backdrops, both in their sheer richness of detail and their curiously distorted cloudiness, a total effect which is very often intensely overpowering (tho’ in a good way). In the midst of an altogether extraordinary record, perhaps the most extraordinary single song is the episodic quasi-incantatory Your Head Is The House Of Your Tongue, which waxes metaphysical and conjures both Traherne and Williamson like a leftover from the Wee Tam & The Big Huge planning sessions; it even incorporates an eerie passage of Handsome-Family-like whistling to throw us off the scent. But nowhere during the album’s intense 40-odd-minute span does the invention ever let up, and neither does the energy. I Took To You (Like Christ To Wood) imagines a kind of marriage in Albion between Alasdair Roberts and Celia Humphries, which at length degenerates into a cacophony of full-pelt voices and instruments almost like an ancient carol gone amok. The deliriously florid anthemic ballad When I Was Young steams iconically through the ether with wondrously ornate drones, raging against the dying light like a primordial processional from The Wicker Man. The End Is The Beginning Born Knowing rages pell-mell like an early Soft Machine track or better still perhaps a Caravan skidding blindly out of control. Blinding cascades of electric guitar interrupt the early-Steeleye flow of Garlands Of Stars, which betrays influence from both Irish tradition and experimental psych-folk of a particularly skewed variety.
Elsewhere, there are instances where familiar tunes are more unashamedly referenced, pulling apart soundalike passages and melodies; you can’t miss Lavinia’s honourable but not entirely successful attempts to escape The Galway Shawl on Willows Of Carbeth, but Summer’s Waning seems to take up on Tennessee Waltz and propel it into Cowboy Junkies/Mazzy Star territory. Finally, after eight tracks of literally spellbinding majesty, in a seemingly perverse closing gambit Trembling Bells deliver an acappella cut, Seven Years A Teardrop, a kind of parting-song, where the distinctly exposed-sounding parts with their occasionally wayward harmonies, take a little getting used to. In summary, then, not only is Carbeth unquestionably one of the most individual offerings I’ve come across in a long time (with a potent and twisted atmospheric beauty all its own), but also one of the most enduringly stimulating, if at times queasily opaque. I can only describe it as sublime, quite gorgeous demented gothic psych-folk of the highest order: breathing, pulsating, literally alive with arcane primordial energy.
www.myspace.com/tremblingbells
David Kidman
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Brian Jeffels - For whom the Willow Weeps
This is Brian’s first solo CD. He is a multi instrumentalist balladeer and singer songwriter living in Bedfordshire where his is a familiar face around the sessions and clubs. The CD comprises self penned tunes and songs by Brian who is joined by a talented group of musicians on a wide variety of instruments. Carol Scaessens on whistle, Lin Griffin on accordion, Maggie Lonnergan and Scott Blundell on fiddles, Vince Gorman on bodhran and Alan Jenkins on guitar. Brian sings with a voice that is reminiscent of young Bob Dylan and plays guitar, accordion and thumb piano. The lyrics of the songs are very helpfully included with the CD.
The songs are original and very thoughtful. Many have a dark and melancholy tinge and a complex message, which is revealed by close attention to the words. Surprisingly, given such a wide variety of instrumentalists the sound on the first few tracks and the penultimate one is very similar. Teaming the guitar with the accordion gives a slightly muddy quality on occasions. Given that slight criticism, most the later tracks are much more sparse in the use of accompaniments and all the better for it. I was intrigued by the tune ‘Dublin Breeze’ which has a lyrically played whistle as lead instrument yet not attributed to any player on the track listing – was it Carol I wonder?
The Cherry Tree is a track, which has solo accordion backing and is far better for that restraint. Guitar and fiddles weave prettily on Brian’s first-ever self-penned song Butterfly - and again the understated accompaniment complements the song beautifully.
There is some crisp and deft mandolin playing on The Old Mandolin, although elsewhere on Abigail’s Waltz the instrument was slightly out of tune with itself. I question the reason for putting two tunes back-to-back on the CD when perhaps they could have been spread out to give a more varied and satisfying listening experience. Wild Flowers- a very long and desolate song, about a cruel betrayal and massacre during the Irish war of Independence makes for a depressing end to the CD. I kept wishing for one of the jolly instrumentals to cheer me up. For details of how to get the CD and more information about Brian and his musical collaborations visit his website www.brianjeffels.com
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LindisFans – Dreams Enough to Share (Own Label, no catalogue number)
It’s more than a little surprising, given the enduring popularity of Lindisfarne and the frequency with which their songs (or should I say a recurring handful of them) have been covered over the years, that the idea of producing a tribute album has taken until relatively recently to be mooted – and even then it was the brainchild of a long-term Lindis-fan rather than a “name” artist or record label. That may all betoken a disc that should be avoided on the grounds of attention-seeking self-conscious adulatory gushing, but in truth Dreams Enough To Share is instead a disc that displays nothing other than unashamed sincerity in its presentation and execution, coupled with a wholehearted respect and unpretentious affection for that legendary “band of the people”.
It’s a bit of a given that any album that features a number of different artists will be a mite uneven and to a degree variable in its impact, but there’s a welcome artistic unity to this project that transcends its common theme and purpose. At times, inevitably, there are echoes of the breezy, goodtime strand of the archetypal Lindisfarne sound (the closest being Newcastle duo Suburban Atmosphere’s reliable take on Remember Tomorrow), but I’d stress that each of the artists represented here brings an individual take on the songs, independently and commendably. Having said that, none are so radical or way-out that they would challenge or disturb fellow-fans, and each stays faithful to the spirit of the original song.
It’s good too that the actual selection of songs (15 in all) turns out to be a fan’s selection rather than a marketing bod’s ideal of trotting out the same old crowd-pleasing greatest hits. Only two out of the 15 – Lady Eleanor and Winter Song (both of which everyone accepts as being key creations of the Lindisfarne universe) – are anything like widely covered elsewhere; Run For Home is popular, sure, and you sometimes hear Poor Old Ireland and Train In G Major in sessions, and occasionally No Time To Lose and Born At The Right Time, but the majority of the rest are more the province of the specialist Lindisfarne devotees. And even so, I suspect that even the diehard Lindis-fan will need to brush up somewhat – which is never a bad thing when it provides the chance to revisit and reassess songs that you never realised were so good!
What’s so important here is that each song is chosen so that the love of the song, and an indication of its individual worth within the Lindisfarne canon, is uppermost (as opposed to being merely a personal showcase for the artist concerned). Temporally, the selections range album-wise from Nicely Out Of Tune right through to Promenade, but there’s a slight bias towards the later material. The mastermind behind the whole project is Steve Foster, an American, who performs in the band The Fire Inn Lads with his fellow-musos from Indianapolis on three better-than-decent rocking guitar-band renditions (Born At The Right Time, Working For The Man and – especially fine – Train In G Major). Elsewhere, though, it’s basically the north-east of the UK that provides the origin-point for the album’s participants (naturally!).
The disc starts a little inauspiciously it must be said, with roving podcaster Alasdair Carter’s quite basic vox-and-guitar rendition of Poor Old Ireland, which is segued (well, patched not entirely ideally, to my mind) into a more stirring version by the Jackdaws. But that’s the end of the studio interventions, and consistency is improved thereafter. Local blues songstress Verity Burton gives us two of the standout tracks, including a superbly thoughtful take on The Things I Should Have Said, while the multi-skilled Andy Patterson plays and sings “everything” on his brace of contributions both taken from less-feted Lindisfarne offerings: the underrated Never Miss The Water and Soho Square (the latter ingeniously “fitted” with another Alan Hull creation). I loved Claire Barr’s vocal on Mike Jessop’s accomplished Americana-style Run For Home, while The Attention Seekers turn in a genial and well-contoured One World (one of two Amigos songs to appear here). Acoustic Circus supremo Simma contributes two live tracks, a touch rough’ready perhaps but certainly spirited enough for inclusion (No Time To Lose in particular motors along nicely – with uncredited sax and percussion to boot); while his third track, a rockabilly-boogie-inflected Dance Your Life Away, gets the feet tapping well… Talking of which album, and saving the best till last, Steve Daggett’s collaboration with master steel guitarist Phil Armstrong on Shine On makes for a beautifully judged final gambit.
This affectionate and honest tribute disc is well worth seeking out.
www.lindisfans.co.uk and www.lindisfarne.de
David Kidman
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The Wynntown Marshals – Westerner (Charger cgr005)
This one came highly recommended, albeit with a comfortably advanced release date to give me time to get to know the music – and just as well, for it’s been a touch obstinate! First playthrough, on the car player, I kindof wondered what the fuss was about – for although it sounded just fine then and there it didn’t all seem to have the staying power for more concentrated listening later. But the Wynntown Marshals are a quality outfit alright: led by vocalist and songwriter Keith Benzie, this is a crack Scottish band with a particular affinity for contemporary Americana, notably its storytelling strand. They play the genre as to the manner born – almost – yet with a nagging air of derivativeness that I suspect is at the root of their music failing initially to quite make the mark it promises to. But now the penny drops; for therein lies the way-in. Their unpretentious derivativeness may well be their strength, in that they use their influences positively and unashamedly to serve the stories they tell in Keith’s lyrics. So, taken on those terms, there’s a lot to enjoy and satisfy on this disc.
The band’s sound I guess could be tagged primarily as country-rock with power-pop overtones, strong lead and twin-guitar work and neat, bittersweet pedal steel. Black Crowes, Jayhawks, Neil Young, sometimes Wilco, often as not the Stones – all these came to mind on occasion during Westerner (indeed, the opening You Can Have My Heart sounds very Jagger-Richard).
Keith’s songwriting is down-to-earth and steeped in Americana, ranging from tales historical (Gil, the story of an American illustrator) and whimsically personal (48 Hours, an account of an ill-fated bus trip) to sensitive love songs (All That I Want), yet with occasional departures into unusual (at any rate for Americana) territory (Snowflake, which concerns the plight of an albino gorilla, and Divine Compassion, an ominous, brooding anti-war song with a Drive By Truckers-like pounding psych-rock setting). Breezy and catchy uptempo mode is, however, the order of the day (perhaps deceptively so), alternating with some telling slower-paced items like the majestic Thunder In The Valley and Ballad Of Jayne (the album’s lone cover), which tend to make more of an impression first time round.
The instrumental work is both tight and solid and capable of generating both power and charm – aside from those feisty guitars (Iain Barbour and Iain Sloan) there’s some tasty Hammond organ work from Ali Petrie, all providing a grand foil for Keith’s impassioned vocals which give the whole album the mindfully contemporary slant that his lyrics reflect. Yet still, in spite of its strengths, Westerner somewhat contrarily remains a bit too much of a slow burner to win me over completely.
www.myspace.com/thewynntownmarshals
David Kidman
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Sarah Siskind – Say it Louder (Red Request Records RRR. 001)
Originally from North Carolina but now based in Nashville, Sarah’s currently being heralded as one of America’s most promising young songwriters, even though she’s already been active as a s/s and recording artist since age 14 (that’s over 15 years ago!). Her profile was more recently given a massive boost when she toured with indie-rockers Bon Iver back in 2008 (they also performed her song Lovin’s For Fools as their regular encore on that tour), and she’s likely to receive a further injection of well-deserved cred when she supports Paul Brady on the upcoming tour to promote his new CD release Hooba Dooba, to which Sarah has contributed some backing vocals. The good Mr Brady has been quoted describing Sarah as his “new favourite female singer of the moment”, and we’re also given to understand that a famous Bonnie also “raitts” Sarah’s talents very highly indeed…
Sarah’s songwriting CV includes penning Simple Love and Goodbye Is All We Have for Alison Krauss (both released as singles), while other songs of Sarah’s have been covered by the Infamous Stringdusters and April Verch. Say It Louder, which turns out to be Sarah’s sixth album, has been available on download for just over a year now, but it’s now been taken up by Proper Distribution, which is good news (it certainly doesn’t deserve to languish in cyberspace).
Having never come across Sarah’s own music before, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but Say It Louder doesn’t sound particularly Nashville (or rootsy or s/s or bluegrass, come to that), it’s significantly closer to alt-indie-rock I guess. Sarah’s backed by her formidable (and tightly knit) three-piece live band (Joe MacMahan, Lex Price and Ian Fitchuk), who conjure a distinctive and full-bodied instrumental sound that’s dripping with burnished electric guitar textures (Sarah herself contributes the rhythm part on a trusty Gibson ES-175 most of the time).
Her songs brim over with confident and well-focused expression of the emotions gone through on a particularly difficult life-journey, all the pain and trials which have had to be gone through in order to arrive at a rebirth and a kind of re-embracing of life. The album’s title heralds this renewed confidence, while it can also be heard to reflect the very nature of her vocal delivery – forthright in its attack, boldly insistent in its line and tension (indeed, first-time listeners may find the pushier, more strident nuances of Sarah’s voice a touch wearing, especially on the title number itself and the otherwise gentler Falling Stars, where constant reaching for repeated notes in a higher register occasionally betrays a sense of strain).
What’s particularly notable, and encouraging, is that Sarah and her band seem together to have built themselves a distinctive, signature sound which once experienced is unlikely to be mistaken for anyone else. And moreover, while the out-and-out thrust of Keep Me Alive is undoubtedly an album standout (it also features Sarah’s long-time hero Jerry Douglas with some searing lap steel work that swoops and grinds across the soundscape), and the looser buildup of Worth Fighting For really makes an impact, Sarah’s still also unafraid to keep the full band sound in check when necessary at the service of her lyrics, occasionally reining it in (as on the glorious shimmering One Step Closer) or even jettisoning the rhythm section (on Getaway Girl), or bravely taking centrestage spotlight alone (on Kite, Long Nights, the piano-backed gospel-tinged Reasons To Love or the brief but telling acappella number Go – another rather special landmark).
Say It Louder, notwithstanding the sometimes opaque (and thus a trifle elusive) character of the musical settings, is an impressive set that illuminates the corners of Sarah’s life with commendable integrity and emotional honesty.
www.sarahsiskind.com
David Kidman
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The Treacherous Orchestra - Live at The Buccleuch Centre, Langholm, Scottish Borders, April 10th 2010
Folk for the Future
The aptly named Treacherous Orchestra brought their first headline tour to a frenzied finale in Langholm last night, giving the small sleepy Border town a rude awakening to all things Treacherous. The Buccleuch Centre, a purpose built state of the art venue, is more used to attracting customers who sit quietly listening, instead of the jumping, glostick waving, dancing crowd that this audience became.
Plunged into darkness, they should have been alerted by the loud Space Invaders rumble that filled the air as the orchestra took to the stage, picked out and illuminated in flashing lights. Or forewarned by the sight of Duncan Lyall rigged out skeleton style, Ali Hutton like an extra from Kiss and Mike Bryan’s unique dancing style; but by then it was too late- this was treachery on a grand scale, held together by John Somerville as the MC in his ringmaster’s hat.
Despite beautiful slow tunes like the ethereal Easter Island or insidious dance grooves like Maverick Angels, Treacherous aren’t simply a reborn version of anything that may have gone before. The sheer pantomime foolery of How Many Pints of Stella proves that!
This band are about fun, and as much of it as possible. At the end of the evening it was hard to tell who’d enjoyed themselves most - orchestra or audience - as the foyer filled with smiling faces of all ages.
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Natalie Merchant: Leave Your Sleep (12/04/2010 Nonesuch Records)
A wandering poetic, seeping loneliness cries out from the shadows of opening track, ‘Nursey Rhyme of Innocence and Experience’. Signalling the start of a searching, brooding and well crafted 2 disc album that was six years in the making. A Country N’ Western flavour emboldens ‘Equestrienne ‘, also seeping into the playful, ‘Calico Pie’. Already, Merchant shows that her vocals are as comfortable with slow and meandering, as they are with skipping and carefree.
The 26 songs on offer are adapted from a variety of British and American poems with the odd lullaby and nursery rhyme slipped in. Jack Prelutsky’s ‘Bleezer’s Ice Cream’, is jazzed up to the nine as a piano and horn serenade each other almost as though they’re in competition. The decision to collaborate with some varied musicians pays fruition by magnifying Merchant’s mood flitting touches.
Slow stirring ballad, ‘Maggie and milly, molly and may’ uses deft percussion, haunting strings and stirring keys to create a heart-tugging vibe. It’s topped off by Merchant’s almost whispered vocals and some cushioning backing vocals. ‘The Sleepy Giant’, sees our heroine giving her vocals a soft and supple edge, giving the childish subject matter some stern authority. Whilst a hovering harmonica and nourish backing commentary, adds a sting to the male jazz vocal led lead assault for ‘The Peppery Man’.
The 2nd disc is kicked off by a weary dual vocal country styled stroll, ‘Adventures Of Isobel’. Showing that Merchant has left no stone unturned, in her quest to find quirky and obscure material to illuminate. A digitally pushed meander through William Brighty Rand’s ‘Topsyturvey World’, is helped along by a reggae male vocal outro and Merchant’s own calming and masterful touch. A lounge vibe starts to flow through the second half of this ambitious release and, it’s impossible not to try and reach for a glass of port and some slippers at this stage.
An ability to compose a winding orchestra appears in ‘The Land Of Nod’, in order to instil into it a brooding, yet hopeful slant. Seeping strings and a hushed lullaby tone, bears out the at-ease nature and thoughtful folk touch of this enchanting performer, ‘Crying, My Little One’. A lovelorn tone lingers throughout this full length, being at its most stretched in the slow turning, ‘I Saw a Ship A-Sailing’.
Natalie Merchant has mainly succeeded in showing that hard work, versatility in being able to collaborate with a broad range of musicians/artists and an eye for the obscure, can make for an epic and engaging double album.
Rating: 4/5
Dave Adair
This epic two-disc set, Natalie’s first studio album since 2003, is a labour of love on her part and the culmination of between five and six years of intense research and collaboration. It’s a collection of 26 songs adapted from poems by writers both well-known and obscure, British and American, as well as a handful of anonymous nursery rhymes and lullabies. The full package – sadly not made available to the humble reviewer – also incorporates an 80-page book containing extensive liner notes, credits and full texts of the songs and original poems. These range from the humorous to the tragic, the absurd to the romantic and deeply spiritual, and poets represented include Ogden Nash and Edward Lear alongside Stevenson, Causley, Frost, Graves, G.M. Hopkins, cummings and Christina Rossetti. But to the music: the poems, as you might expect, inspired a vast range of musical settings, which necessitated the engagement of a broad spectrum of musical collaborators (something like 130 in total) including the Klezmatics, Lúnasa, Hazmat Modine, gospel quartet The Fairfield Four, the Wynton Marsalis Quartet, the Chinese Music Ensemble Of New York, and members of the New York Philharmonic. These were all recorded in live ensemble settings, a process which gives immense vibrancy to the results. Listening to these freshly conceived treatments could be likened to a child’s experience, a wide-eared and exultant discovery of these aromatic texts through an energetic and enthusiastic espousal of their linguistic and sensual nooks and crannies, to which Natalie proves a keen and able guide. Sure, she’s not always able to avoid some musical and stylistic clichés, like the obvious (if still charming) pentatonic chinoiserie of The King Of China’s Daughter, the blowsy jazzy carnival parade of Bleezer’s ice Cream and the slithery nuances of The Peppery Man.
And yet, on other selections, the sound-worlds of reggae (Topsyturvey World), cajun (Adventures Of Isabel) and Irish jiggery (Walloping Window Blind) sound as naturally applied as soulful-pop (Griselda), Celtic reverie (Nursery Rhyme Of Innocence And Experience and Crying, My Little One), lush orchestration (The Land Of Nod, Spring And Fall) and bright, breezy sixties sunshine-pop (It Makes A Change). The potential purchaser needs to be aware that an abridged, 16-track edition of Leave Your Sleep is also available, but in truth several of the most enchanting of Natalie’s settings (like Sweet And A Lullaby, Vain And Careless, I Saw A Ship A-Sailing, the evocative Indian Names and the delicate Autumn Lullaby) are only available on the full edition. Leave Your Sleep is a magnum opus without a doubt, and rarely has so persuasive a song-cycle been conjured from such a disparate array of sources.
Even so, on balance (and this may be the adult in me speaking!) I do find a certain predominance of bright, skittery child’s-eye-jazz textures and arrangements a little wearing on some of the selections on subsequent plays, and those of more reflective import are in danger of getting overshadowed by the more overt attention-grabbers early on in the set. That’s not to underplay Natalie’s considerable achievement with this ambitious project, whereby the common treasury of this veritable child’s garden of verses is so piquantly conveyed by Natalie’s spontaneous yet authoritative, enlightened and responsive vision. And by the way, she’s in splendid, and supple, vocal form throughout (if perhaps not always entirely suited temperamentally or tonally to the task of voicing every one of her chosen poems). Musically speaking, Natalie’s responses to the poems are both searching and untiringly inventive, and well convey the delicious twists and turns of rhythm and pulse that are sometimes only hinted at by one’s reading and internalising the texts in isolation. Put most simply, Natalie’s skill as a songwriter and musician has greatly informed her presentation of these texts – of course, it can only be one person’s interpretation, but in almost every case you’ll find the overwhelming sense of magic that permeates Leave Your Sleep pretty much irresistible in the end.
David Kidman
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Janet Dowd – 300 Miles (Blue Cow Records)
In much the same way that Mary Black and Maura O’Connell established themselves with their distinctive vocals the same could be said of Janet Dowd whom I first heard on Richard Digance’s Radio Devonfolk programme. Unlike Black and O’Connell however there are no American inflections, just the pure tone of Janet’s vocal that will enamour her to anyone who enjoys an unblemished but spirited performance. Starting with the gorgeous “Dingle Bay” accompanied by an arrangement that would I’m sure have been approved by The Furey’s in their “Sweet Sixteen” days she immediately establishes her credentials with an assured performance that will gain her a legion of octogenarian (for this read BBC Radio 2) fans.
The track that originally made me take note of Dowd was the song “John Condon” who was thought to be the youngest soldier to die in the Great War of 1914-1918. Much like Eric Bogle’s epic “Green Fields Of France”, I’m sure this song will be accepted by the ‘folk’ music community in much the same way and it won’t be long before it is utilised by every major artist (maybe it already has) looking for another holy grail? This album showcases Dowd’s obvious talents leaning towards a good ballad including the Northumbrian “The Water Is Wide”, “Loving Hannah” (also covered on the debut album by the afore mentioned Mary Black) and the evocative “Both Sides The Tweed” penned by Dick Gaughan. Rounding things off with the Dixie-Land style brass arrangement on “Wayfaring Stranger” (which I haven’t heard since the heydays of The Seekers!) this lady should be required listening for those that enjoy a good songstress and a must have for festivals in 2011.
Pete Fyfe
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Garry & Rose Blakeley – The Ceremony Of May (Attitude Records CD-007)
OK, I know nepotism isn’t a nice thing but when the artist I am reviewing just happens to be my best mate in a professional and personal sense and a damn fine fiddle player to boot then I think I should be forgiven this one transgression. As well as part of our established duo Band Of Two, Gaz has many other strings to his bow and has recently completed a project he has been working on for some time called The Ceremony Of May. In collaboration with his wife Rose (who wrote the lyrics and poems), Jane Downes (the narrator), Edd Blakeley (Garry’s son) plus Hugh Crabtree (melodeon) and Tom Leary (additional fiddle) from Feast Of Fiddles, he has created a gem that only the ‘folk’ world could produce much like Ashley Hutching’s “The Complete Dancing Master” before it. The disk is festooned with great melodies each of which I could see at home as ‘session’ tunes particularly the opening track “Dawn Awakening” and the distinctly traditional Morris-sounding medley “Sunrise/A New Day Begins”. For those who enjoy their folk-rock with a bit of bite there are the dramatic “The Green Man” and “Bogies-of-the-Green” both of which possess fine anthem like qualities in the tradition of rallying calls for England and St George.
Balancing the light and shade of the music there’s a more acoustic approach taken on the evocative song “Farewell To Winter” which I’m sure will prove a winner with those who enjoy their music Radio 2 friendly and the narrative carried throughout by the animated tones of Jane Downes (also established as ‘the caller’ for The Catsfield Steamers) is a delight that will appeal to anyone who listens to Radio 4. This is the kind of album that is hard to pigeon-hole as it crosses so many
categories of the ‘arts’ scene but you can rest assured if you’re looking for something challenging but ultimately fulfilling this will defiantly be the album for you.
Pete Fyfe
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Last October, Kirsty performed a special one-off gig in her native Manchester (at Contact) with her full band The Hobopop Collective, a six-piece consisting of long-term collaborator Mat Martin with Rob Turner, Nick Blacka, James Steel (Brute Chorus), Christopher Cundy (Guillemots) and Clive Mellor. This gig formed the basis for Kirsty’s fifth album release, and the decision was made to present it with no overdubs or repairs – exactly the way the songs were performed on the night, and unquestionably the best way of capturing the sound of the ensemble. The only difference from the actual gig being the inevitable editing-out of between-song tuning, extra applause etc? well no, it would appear that the band themselves have made the selection, choosing just nine songs from the total concert, and carefully re-sequenced them to give the best possible finished product.
From out of this process, two things emerge clear: first and most important, the very special atmosphere of a Kirsty McGee gig has definitely been captured, and second, the songs chosen give a very decent and pretty much representative spread of Kirsty’s writing, with fresh new interpretations of some of her best songs to date (four from The Kansas Sessions and one – the perennially stunning Bliss – from her debut album Honeysuckle) settling in comfortably alongside four brand new songs which together are worth the price of admission in their own right. These new songs run the gamut across what have of late become the principal strands of Kirsty’s musical expression: on one hand, there’s the animated movers, Omaha and Stonefruit, which employ an itchy-scratchy jugband jazzy vibe, tasty swinging let-it-hang-out tempos and eccentric junk percussion, and on the other hand the more deeply searching numbers, the supremely chilling Last Orders and the fragile, lonesome yet almost unbearably beautiful The Last To Understand. This one, coming immediately on the heels of the brilliant new treatment of the epic Bliss (on which I’ve never heard Kirsty better or more expressive), is the surest-fire candidate for the replay button I’ve found for a very long time – it’s both delicate and really moving, and I just can’t get it out of my consciousness. That’s not to say that Faith, another now-proven-classic of the Kirsty McGee catalogue, comes off in any way badly – it forms a fine set- (and album-) closer, of that there’s no doubt. Well I guess I admit to first feeling a mite shortchanged when the disc lasts only 36 minutes (that’s just nine songs out of the 15 in the show) – but this is definitely one of those times when less is more (and there’s a bonus, for the disc also contains a video of a tenth song, Bonecrusher).
And I mustn’t underplay the brilliantly judged contributions the band members make to realising Kirsty’s vision, especially Mat. Believe me, you need this record, cos Kirsty’s really special. And go catch her on tour with the band this spring – for she’s one of the few performers who’s got such a powerful vocal presence that it stops you dead in your tracks and you’ll be frozen to the spot.
David Kidman
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The band’s guitarist Matt Wise is responsible for the album’s eleven original songs, and the lineup’s completed by bassist Andrew Prosser and drummer F. Scott Kenny; they wear their influences very much on their sleeves, but with evident affection. All three band members play well and sing well, which in this kind of music is a distinct bonus. They deliver classic west-coast harmonies reminiscent of Poco, the Eagles or CSNY, within an easy Americana setting that echoes the crossover blending of classic Band or even Petty’s Heartbreakers but with more than the occasional hint of Wilco, Jayhawks, or alt. country or indie.
Although there’s something frustratingly derivative about Society’s music at times, it can also be maddeningly addictive, and on the best of the songs the guys’ idiomatic musicianship and obvious sheer affection for their inspirations far outweighs any mundanity. Admittedly, the first couple of tracks don’t show an awful lot of promise, the Neil-Young-soundalike opener Fools End swiftly losing its way, then On My Way is lacking in significant melodic interest. But the acoustic-driven Blown On The Breeze, which benefits from the guest fiddle of Sarah Gonputh, is both distinctive and charming, while some rather gorgeous pedal steel work from guest Spencer Cullum (of the Deadstring Brothers) adorns the standout slowie Knives and the mid-paced I Do Belong, Long Train has an easy-rollin’ vibe that recalls early Doobie Brothers or a less jazzy Steely Dan, and When The Lights Go Down has the stripped-down dustbowl ambience of Ronnie Lane’s Slim Chance. On the other side of the balance sheet, I Watch The Rain Fall Out Of You is a touch sub-Faces and Fit To Bust is too reminiscent of a poor Dylan pastiche (not helped by the opening harmonica riff borrowing from I Want You), while Back In The Woods borrows most of its tune from The Weight but carries a considerably less interesting lyric. Yet to balance these, there are some good (and good-time) aspects to this release, and it does grow with time and repeated play. So, the bottom line is more that if classic 70s-style country-rock played well and to the manner born is your bag, then (some slightly dodgy lyrics apart) you’ll find much to satisfy your cravings here.
David Kidman
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Given the sheer diversity of the characters Tori meets on her journey, it’s inevitable, I guess, that the musical settings she employs will vary quite a bit stylistically over the course of the record – and yet even after a few plays this diversity sometimes seems more wilful than strictly necessary, to the extent that there are several tracks where I find Tori’s vocal performance a bit of a trial to listen to, especially when she’s trying to sound soulful, sultry or raunchy (as on Days And Days And Nights, Merry-Go-Round and Penny On A Rail – in each case, her exaggerated delivery and vocal gestures tend to detract from the lyrics). Even so, the CD still has many redeeming features, not least the expert production by multi-instrumentalist David Henry, and the galaxy of other musicians contributing at various points, which includes Fats Kaplin, Viktor Krauss, Will Kimbrough, Steve Bowman and Barry Walsh. But Tori herself certainly makes sparks fly.
David Kidman
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It’s a heck of a long while since a new album by Pressgang graced the player – all of ten years actually, for six of which the band have taken a bit of an extended sabbatical. But hey presto, the classic Pressgang lineup (Damian Clarke, George Whitfield, Tony Lyons and Cliff Eastabrook) is back with us now, just as if all they’d done was nipped out to the shops for a moment; and yet they manage to sound totally contemporary while still making gutsy folk-rock in the time-honoured fashion.
For album number seven, just as before, Pressgang display a knack for subjecting their chosen material – trusty traditional folk songs – to a healthy degree of creative jiggerypokery, retaining the essence and backbones of the narratives but clothing them in (sometimes) daringly changed words and (always) bold, dashing, exuberant instrumental colours – swirling hurdy gurdy and accordion, crashing guitar, deeply penetrating bass and cascading drumming. They head off with the tale of The Gypsy Bride, then storm through The Outlandish Knight as though there was no tomorrow (maybe they know something we don’t!). If it all seems a touch relentless at first, then fear not, for there are softer edges and hues too, as on The Blackbird, but hey, it’s no shame that we’re constantly reminded of the band’s default kickass setting, via the brilliant sense of momentum these guys unashamedly possess. They don’t hang around to savour; they just get on with it and go ahead and tell their story, make a strong impact and move right on to the next one. Even after the full-ahead workout that climaxes their voyage on the Bonny Ship The Diamond, Pressgang refuse to run out of steam, exhorting us to bring in the Goode Ale forthwith!
Maybe The Gaberlunzie Man outstays his welcome a little, for the ensuing instrumental romp comes as a bit of a relief, but the Raggle Taggle Gypsies sweep all before them for the disc’s finale. So Pressgang can be welcomed back with open ears, that’s for certain.
David Kidman
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Kirsty McGee & The Hobopop Collective – No. 5: Live (Hobopop HPCD. 005)
Society – Songs from the Brickhouse (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Society is a three-piece country-rock outfit hailing from West Sussex, whose sound feels not only indigenous-American but altogether larger – and not just due to the presence of five sparingly-used additional musicians on Songs From The Brickhouse which, curiously for a band that’s been together for around six years, is its debut release.
Tori Sparks – The Scorpion in The Story (Glass Mountain GMR. 644167077620)
Even as singer-songwriters go, Nashville-based Tori is a bit of a self-confessed enigma, for on her extensive touring she displays a persona almost as much akin to a stand-up comedian as a folk musician. Her gift for musical storytelling, however, is strongly in evidence on The Scorpion In The Story, her third release to date, which is best described as a concept album. Its tale of life on the road revolves around thirteen individual vignettes, each of which depicts a true-life character Tori met while touring during 2008. Some of these vignettes – those portraits where the textual depiction is dramatically and accurately mirrored in the musical setting – prove incredibly persuasive. Any quirkiness is sufficiently present to make it interesting, but doesn’t intrude on the message or the narrative. Cases in point include the downbeat-country opening cut Tall Towers, the swaggering Little Wrecking Ball, Background Music and the disturbingly Cohenesque Rubbernecking, but perhaps best of all is the intense, passion-soaked Leaving Side Of Love (the lyric of which contains the striking image that provides the album’s title).
Pressgang – Outlandish (Vox Pop VOX. 028)
Becky Syson - 'Weave Your Dreams'
'Some of the best times ever are those long summer evenings spent just lazily hanging out in the garden or in the park with friends and loved ones. Listening Weave Your Dreams offers a similar sensation for me. Whether it’s through magic, trickery, brainwashing, or just incredible songwriting (on evidence I suspect it’s the latter), Becky Syson manages to bring those feelings of warmth and optimism to her music. This is exactly the kind of thing you want on these cold, dark and dreary winter evenings. Becky seems to radiate positivity and this comes through loud and clear in her music.
For instance, the EP opens up with Nancy Song, a story of lost love, but taken from the viewpoint that it’s not lost forever as there are still the happy memories and the possibility of seeing that person again on ‘the other side’. How heartwarming! There are points where Becky’s voice is reminsicent of Harriet Wheeler from The Sundays; smooth, vibrant, and full of spirit. Whilst musically, the EP stays on the acoustic side of business, with occasional flourishes of drums and guitars - especially on the jazzy On My Way. The simple arrangements give the songs room to grow and weave their magic on the listener.'
Paul Klotschkow
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Sandy Wright, The Songs Of Sandy Wright
Even though he is now sixty years of age, and has been a much-loved character on the Edinburgh music scene for many years now, Sandy Wright will be a new name to many people. He could well be Scotland's answer to the great American masters of music, such as Johnny Cash or Kris Kristofferson, writing songs that offer both heartwarming beauty, and a gritty realism, but most importantly songs that are always rooted deeply and honestly in real life. In the same way that Cash or Kristofferson perform with a resolutely American character, Sandy has a sound imbued with a distinctly Scottish personality. Sandy's songs have a soul bruised by the battles of every day life, yet a heart that bursts with the warmth of pride and self-consciousness. This album, Sandy's debut solo recording, showcases a small selection of intimate recordings, taken from a likely plentiful bounty.
Whether his approach is bucolic or sentimental, Sandy has a knack of really hitting the right nerve, in terms of both lyric and delivery. The uplifting tenor of "My Shining Star" celebrates a friend or loved one who provides a timely respite from the depths of despair, whilst "In The Summertime" is an affectionate dream of summertime romance, with Sandy's lyrics calling all the senses to action. "53rd State Of America" finds Sandy wearily lamenting the overpowering effect of American values and culture on our native shores, and on "Whores And Bitches," he can be heard descending into an impassioned maelstrom of frustration and anger: "nobody scores like bitches and whores, spent all my riches on whores and bitches."
You will also find deliciously simple vignettes of ordinary life and ordinary people, that illuminate with a fondness that avoids cloying sentimentality. "This Old House" pays weary homage to some shambolic bricks and mortar, drawing comparisons with a similarly shambolic heart, whilst "Tin Badge" portrays resignation in the face of a more individual battle: "I'm hanging up my faded hat, and my worn out leather skin."
That Sandy's songwriting has been a well-kept secret closely coveted by many luminaries of the folk world, is well evidenced on the accompanying disc, containing interpretations of Sandy's songs from the likes of Chris Wood, Karine Polwart, Eddi Reader, and Kris Drever; some of these songs you may recognise as favourites from popular albums by the aforementioned artists. Taking the crown here is Michelle Burke's take on "Hey Mama," an unusual perspective of a death-row inmate, filled with the pain of regret and helplessness, and written with the utmost integrity and perception: this is a perfect example of just how Sandy instils his lyrics with the very lifeblood of humanity, no matter how challenging the subject.
Now the secret's out of the bag, there is of course no stopping the frenzied word of mouth that will doubtless heap belated praise on Sandy Wright. It seems inappropriate to suggest that a man of such experience, and now in his sixties, shows promise, but this collection of songs is certain to provide the folk world with a character of instant legend.
www.myspace.com/sandywrightmusic
Mike Wilson
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Mike Martell – She Waits for Met… (Own Label, no catalogue number)
Mike Martell is a Canadian singer-songwriter with a sureness of touch, a rich rounded vocal tone and easy lyrical style. His voice caresses the sentiments lovingly, wrapping the words in creamily phrased melodies that flow easily and appealingly off the stave. His songs are honest, simple, fondly conceived, wistful and gently heartfelt creations that display a thoughtful sympathy for their subjects and for the human condition generally. Born and raised on Prince Edward Island, Mike’s been a coastal fisherman for 40 years, and his songs are informed by his life, philosophy and work experiences and the world in which he operates. There must be something in the water, for (perhaps inevitably) there will be times when he could be compared to Stan Rogers, and a first-time listener could be readily forgiven for mistaking both idiom and delivery on songs like Ballad Of The Garden Trip. There are times, too, when I’m also reminded of Dan McKinnon. All of these characteristics are positive features. And each individual song has something to commend it, whether it’s in the pure expression of homespun philosophy and experience through the attractive lyric content, or the accommodating, flowing melodies or the uncomplicated musical settings (gentle guitars, accordion, mandolin, whistle), or any combination of those elements. But in the end, this is one of those discs that seems to promise much yet doesn’t quite deliver, for various reasons.
Principally, Mike’s music is just too equable, too eager to please; the majority of his songs are taken at an identical effortless slow-to-medium-tempo ¾ time, and seem just to drift in and out of consciousness in a much-of-a-muchness kind of way. If I listen to songs like Fisherman’s Soul, Ten Knots Or More, Pencil or Thoughts Of September – in isolation, they elicit a certain appeal, a certain unaffected beauty; but his melodies are often just not strong enough to match his lyric facility or to carry his thoughts forward, there’s little or no variation in basic style and there are no real emotional peaks or troughs. Pleasingly though each song passes by, it’s difficult to recall many of the songs after the hearing, and his choruses don’t tend to stick in the mind even after repetition. And although the instrumental accompaniments are efficient, it’s all too even-toned and nothing much stands out; also, the vocal harmonies from Mike’s wife Tami, though well-meaning, just don’t enhance the songs or Mike’s own singing in the way they were evidently intended to do. So although Mike would be likely to impress in a folk club floor-spot situation, after three or four perfectly decent songs of a broadly similar nature and character the listener is likely to tire.
David Kidman
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Wilful Missing – Vast Atlantic (EP) (Independent release)
The intriguingly-named Wilful Missing is a five-piece based around the Bradford area, who’ve been building up a loyal fan base over the past few years although Vast Atlantic is their first official release. Their lineup consists of Sam Kipling (vocals, acoustic guitar), Sam Lawrence (electric guitar, mandolin, accordion, keyboard, vocals), Albert Freeman (bass, vocals), Sarah Smout (cello) and Ruth Viqueira (percussion). They enterprisingly combine acoustic folk and folk-rock touches with electric indie-rock textures and gestures to realise their rewardingly thoughtful self-penned songs. The first thing you notice is Sam K’s striking singing voice: his is an entirely persuasive, sweet-toned yet forthright and precise delivery (you can hear and appreciate the nuance of every word) that invariably makes maximum natural capital out of the searching and often beautiful lyrics. Then just as you’re getting more into the songs, you’re knocked back rather by the group’s intelligent use of instrumental texture, where they also exhibit a sensitive control of dynamics that cynics might say is a mite unexpected for an indie band.
The disc’s centrepiece Night Parachuting captures the senses in particular, its delicate rippling guitar figures overlaid with swooning cello and crashing cymbal-drenched climaxes, but songs such as the driving opener Postcode Lottery and the anguished closer D.I.Y. also hit home with their imaginative balance and blending of what for a band are relatively unusual tonal colourings and juxtapositions. Stylistically too, Wilful Missing range pretty wide, from Judge And Jury, with its jaunty pseudo-Cajun accordion riff, to Alone With America which seems credibly to reference orchestrated late-60s psych-balladry as well as contemporary Americana. Varied in expression and tempo yet (interestingly) consistent in musical vision, this is a very impressive and individual-sounding (and well-recorded) disc that packs a keen emotional punch and contains a hell of a lot of promise. Wilful Missing will be going places, I’m absolutely sure.
David Kidman
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John Conolly & Bill Meek – Where The River Meets The Sea (Mecon MECON. 3)
This CD presents a whole glorious hour’s worth of “new songs from the old firm”, a description which will mean that the disc is self-recommending for all fans of the work of this long-term songwriting partnership. And so it turns out – but it’s also a rather special disc, in that it’s like having a tape of your very own personal house-concert. It was intimately recorded during the winter of 2008/2009, at the home of John & Bill’s good friend (and fine songwriter) Dave Evardson and his wife Julie; they “simply sat in his lounge and sang the songs”. And it sounds like it (in the nicest possible way): no over-produced studio gimmicks, just good honest home-front music-making with a better-than-serviceable recording quality (although I do detect a different, arguably more responsive acoustic environment – the bathroom?! – on Bill’s two solo acappella offerings).
The songs run the usual well-judged thematic gamut, from maritime to nostalgia, industrial or occupational songs to love songs, affectionate seasonal songs, local history, and the folk scene itself. These topics have formed the men’s key inspirations over the past however-many years, producing some timeless and gently potent material that has stood the test of time. The question is whether this batch of new songs has the potential to similarly readily engage; John and Bill clearly believe in them, for their rationale for releasing this disc was “mainly to make them available to potential singers” (an entirely laudable gambit, of course, and I’ve already earmarked a couple of these songs for learning myself…). In my humble opinion, the strongest items here are the supremely evocative Banks Of The Humber, The Garden Of White Roses (which recalls both Old Men Sing Love Songs and Angels Of Lincoln), the farming nostalgia of Home From The Haying, and the homespun philosophy of Sit Closer Friends. It’s just possible that the deeper impact of Last Big Trip’s Gone Down (a really fine song written in 1981 for a TV documentary) is diluted just a little for me by its melodic resonance of I Live Not Where I Love, but that response may in itself be a blessing in disguise. I also rather liked the traditional-sounding Maid Of Castlereagh, as well as Woodpecker Cider (dedicated to Rob Gutteridge), Stay With Me (a kind-of-Carter-Family feelgood number written for Bill’s wife Pat), and the suitably barnacle-encrusted Cape Horn Shanty, while I Am Christmas is a sincere, and genuinely non-grumpy, response to traditional seasonal goodwill. I’d be less than honest, though, if I didn’t express some lingering impressions given by one or two of the songs that smack a shade obviously of “shavings from the masters’ workbench” (albeit probably as much in the distinctive Conolly-Meek stylings as in any other aspect); for instance, almost anyone hearing Geneva And Rum is likely to harbour a sneaking suspicion that John and Bill were aiming to replicate the success of Fiddlers’ Green. Familiarity breeds content?
Well, the disc does close with John’s traditional encore-cum-night-closer, One More Before We Go, but, that song aside, the vast majority of the other songs on the disc had hitherto not been heard in public – and, given their lasting quality, we’re left rather wondering why, for this is a thoroughly delightful disc that should not disappoint admirers of John and Bill and their old-fashioned, reliable craft.
Even better, it’s available at the bargain price of £6 incl. P&P (from John at 18 Scrivelsby Court, Cleethorpes DN35 0HJ).
David Kidman
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The Wraiths – Welcome, Stranger, to this Place (Idyllic Records IDY.3)
At first I was a touch wary of this release, on seeing it baldly described as “poems set to music by The Wraiths”. It transpires that this Bristol-based duo (Mog Fry and Jon Hunt) “write their musical settings entirely through improvisation” (for a start, that statement itself is surely a contradiction in terms!), and two of this album’s tracks are in fact recordings of those original improvisations (thus, it is claimed, what we hear is “literally their first encounter with the poems” – which I find difficult to believe, if only because they must surely have read them at least once previously in order to have arrived at a point where they would decide to choose the actual poems for performance?). My semantic interpretation may seem unduly harsh, however, and I don’t propose to judge the music on the basis of flawed logic in the Wraiths’ mission statement. But there are also other inconsistencies which are harder to reconcile, such as their practice (in a number of cases) of “settling on the most lucid of the many verses”: a gambit which could be said to be rather questionable, since it rather de-contextualises (even devalues or misrepresents) the poetry itself (although having said that, the very idea of setting the whole of Tennyson’s In Memoriam, say, is clearly neither practical nor desirable!). On a purely musical basis, most of the individual settings, if taken in splendid isolation, are quite beguiling; Mog sings well, with clear diction, but there’s a lingering feeling on some of the tracks that generally the Wraiths’ response to the texts comes on a musical rather than emotional or expressive basis, and even then the contours and chord sequences can be too similar or else comparatively unremarkable. The resonances of the poems clearly appeal to Mog and Jon, but I feel the duo don’t always completely succeed in drawing them out, either through the musical element or the sung expression of the texts. However, it must be said that Mog and Jon have a good feel for creating interesting scorings and varied textures by employing guitar, piano, cello and “a multiplicity of other instruments”.
Regarding the actual selection of poems, the Wraiths prove my own literary knowledge a mite deficient by unearthing some worthy obscurities by Ebenezer Jones, Lionel Pigot Johnson and T.E. Hulme alongside some eminently sensible choices from the art of Blake, Tennyson, Keats, De La Mare, Beddoes and Emily Dickinson. The latter’s She Lay As If At Play is well captured by the duo’s tiptoeing gait and chamber setting; the ripe sensuousness of Keats’ Bright Star too is aptly mirrored, as is the gentle swoon of I Know A Meadow (De La Mare’s Crazed), while the clangorous gothic of the Tennyson extract Dark House is viewed through what seems almost like a Syd Barrett lens. And yet the luscious, lustrous psychedelia adopted for the second Keats poem To Sleep (Casket Of My Soul) doesn’t develop its initial promise along with the text. Elsewhere, Touch Of A Vanished Hand (aka Break Break Break) is given an insistent brooding electric pulse, and there’s a definite hint of a lesser Incredible String Band stage-improvisation in the background wailings of Merioneth, whereas the duo’s settings of other poems like Hulme’s pithy four-line stanza Above The Dock display an economy of expression that’s perhaps surprising for the degree of improv utilised therein. But I still suspect at times that the decision to adopt improvised rather than considered settings is at the root of the overall inconsistency of the results of the Wraiths’ project. And throughout I remain unconvinced of the need to change the titles of the poems – even though they are individually identified in the facsimile 60-page booklet reproduced on the duo’s website (it’s not clear whether a hard copy of this is included with the disc: I’d imagine not, but it still contains much useful background information, biographies and texts). So, a mixed reception for this disc, largely due to the inconsistencies of the Wraiths’ vision and the “infancy stage” nature of their methodology – but it does at least brings some fabulous poetry to our attention.
David Kidman
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Pokey LaFarge & The South City Three – Riverboat Soul (Free Dirt DIRT-CD-0060)
Pokey LaFarge hails from Kentucky; he spent his younger years out on the open road, where he became steeped in the music of the heroes and misfits of yesteryear – “the long-lost troubadous of country, the kings of swamp-drenched ragtime and the legendary bluesmen of the Cotton Kingdom”. His own music, inevitably, is a fresh and quirky kind of hybrid of delta and Appalachia that oozes the idiosyncrasies of Gus Cannon, Dan Hicks, Michael Hurley and the Memphis Jug Band, with occasional excursions into the worlds of Mississippi John Hurt or Loudon Wainwright. The majority of his material is self-penned, the above reference points providing the key inspiration and his own dynamic personality providing the sly humour and cheeky mannerisms. Pokey’s a kind of one-man-band figure: his dapper frame is belied by a powerful, roaring voice, and this is invariably backed by a scrappy-sounding, distinctly frantic guitar or guitjo line and punctuated with industrial-strength kazoo and harmonica.
But Riverboat Soul, his second CD, finds him in the company of his South City Three (Joey Glynn on upright bass, Ryan Koenig on harmonica, washboard and percussion and Adam Hoskins on guitar and slide) with a couple of special guests here and there – Ketch Secor (of Old Crow Medicine Show)’s fiddle work is outstanding. The most infectious tracks are those where the craziness erupts from Pokey’s very frame and cascades around and across the studio: the breakneck ragtime of Claude Jones and Migraines And Heartpains, the carefree call-and-response hoedown of Two-Faced Tom, the high-speed Charleston of You Don’t Want Me, and most of all the seriously over-the-top barking-madness of Old Black Dog. But the raw thrust of Won’t Make Love At All and the tender pathos of Bag Of Bones are both similarly irresistible in their own way. Pokey’s already made a sizeable impression on audiences at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe and Glasgow’s Celtic Connections and impressed Bob Harris – so let’s see what CD exposure brings, for unlike some acts purveying this kind of manic good-time music, Pokey’s special brand of raggy mayhem actually comes over pretty well on disc.
David Kidman
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The House Devils – ADIEU TO OLD IRELAND (ARC Music EUCD. 2232)
The House Devils are Matt Fahey (vocals, guitar, cittern), Andrew Dinan (fiddle), Mat Walklate (flute, whistle, uilleann pipes, harmonica, vocals), Anthony Haller (double bass) and Seamus Den O‘Kane (bodhrán).
They’re Manchester-based, but each of the group members has a solid pedigree in playing Irish music (for instance Dublin-born Matt has 40 years’ worth of repertoire, and twice All-Ireland fiddle champion Andrew also plays with the Bad Shepherds). Their easy expertise is apparent from the very opening bars of By The Hush, and the musicians’ keen yet thoughtful and respectful interplay characterises whatever music they tackle, whether it be song or tune. At times it can seem a touch too understated, but unlike much Irish session-playing (which relies on drive-ahead-at-all-costs impact above all else) that of The House Devils does benefit from a more careful listen in order to appreciate the quality of the musicianship. Adieu To Old Ireland presents a healthy balance of songs both well-loved and less known, interspersed with a clutch of intelligent instrumental medleys that are lively and expertly played but – welcomely – not rushed, and display a genuine command of light and shade and a true feel for integrated dynamics.
The best of the songs are The Flower Of Finea (from a version of Thomas Davis’ poem sung by Nuala Harris), Omi Wise (sourced from a North Carolina murder ballad) and The Mountain Streams (with its attractive drone backing); Matt sings warmly and intuitively, with clear understanding in his response to the words. There are moments where his approach may appear a little too considered, but the positive attributes of his voice far outweigh any such minor reservations. Similarly, the unpretentious and plain-spoken nature of the music-making on the disc as a whole may occasionally give the impression of mild underselling, but in the end this attribute is preferable to even a mild overkill that would wear thin on repetition. It’s straight-ahead no-nonsense Irish folk, well played and co-ordinated throughout. And the lads deserve credit for the disc’s presentation too, for its double-insert comprises both a song-notes-and-instrumentation booklet and a biog-and-lyrics booklet. A genuinely refreshing release that should definitely tickle the palate of the more jaded Irish music aficionado.
www.myspace.com/thehousedevils
David Kidman
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Little Johnny England – Tournament of Shadows (Talking Elephant TECD.150)
Last year, a full ten years on from when they first burst onto the scene, the iconic folk-rock band released an anniversary double-CD that celebrated their longevity in fine style. It also heralded the return to recording of the latest LJE lineup (PJ Wright on guitars, Gareth Turner on melodeon, Guy Fletcher on fiddle and mandolin, with Hugh Bunker on bass and Mark Stevens at the drumkit). I’ll own up to a certain amount of trepidation, and a distinct feeing of “is this going to be as good as it should be? or am I going to be disappointed?”… Well I needn’t have worried, so there’s the good news out of the way at the start!… For the gang are back, with a vengeance, and the utterly unmistakable LJE sound is there in all its glory, but if anything tighter and more together than before and aided by a sensibly balanced production (by Mark himself) that harbours no grudges and bears no favours, everyone getting their fair share of the limelight. This record is clearly conceived in the spirit of the “dinner party” disc of the anniversary collection, in that it’s a listening album that showcases the songs and songwriting as much as the playing, but that’s an observation rather than a criticism and this is a sound-good set par excellence with a quite easygoing, relaxed feel (ie not too much in-yer-face).
PJ’s rocking guitar is perhaps reined back a touch in terms of number of solos (tho’ never fear, he still comes into his own when the band plays live!), but there’s no complaint because he’s still very much a presence in the mix notwithstanding. As for the songs themselves, this comeback set opens with a pair of Pete Scrowther compositions (as it should!): the title track, a response to the timeless warmongering, and a quintessential quasi-trad folk-rock ballad Lily Of Barbary (one of the album’s best tracks, albeit already pretty familiar from PJ’s solo record). Pete’s third offering, Steeltown Saturday Night, is a grittily truthful, if somewhat unflattering portrait of his schoolboy stamping-ground, Consett (though it could be any number of steeltowns I guess), complete with one of those catchily wordy-rhythmic Tanglefoot-style choruses. Pete’s song-tally is equalled by three Turner/Stevens compositions: Ginger Billy is the mildly embellished true story of a wartime farming man espousing his father’s humanitarian values, whereas the jauntier Welcome To The Sparrow Club takes a slightly tongue-in-cheek fly-on-the-wall view of a bunch of “armchair worriers” down at the local (sort-of Show Of Hands meets Little Johnny), and The Falling Down Man kind-of speaks for himself.
LJE also turn in a rocking cover of Steve Knightley’s venomously relevant diatribe Cutthroats, Crooks And Conmen, a sounds-familiar cover of Penny Sykes’ fable Kenzie, and two reliable trad-arrs, the better of which is a lavishly spooky take on The Plains Of Waterloo that culminates the disc in cinematic style. Elsewhere, PJ leads the band in a revisit of Hedge Of Sound’s Random Acts Of Kindness, but I don’t really feel the band version adds much this time round. A couple of final points: in view of the weighted-towards-songs nature of the album, it might sound perverse when I comment that the customary medley of “instrumental malarkey”, strategically placed just past midway through the album, turns out to be one of its highlights. And, more crucially, with each play I’m more convinced that the sequencing of the album isn’t entirely ideal, particularly in the matter of the choice of opening, lead-in track, for which Sparrow Club is surely THE incontestable one, to get you feeling good, charged, up and dancin’ straightway. But no matter, you can always programme things that way I guess if you can be bothered – and you’ll still want to return to virtually every track to hear if it’s as good as first impression gave. So it’s a strong welcome-back for the Johnnies then!
David Kidman
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O’Hooley & Tidow - Silent June (No Masters Co-operative NMCD. 32)
Songwriter and pianist Belinda O’Hooley has hitherto been best known for her stint with Rachel Unthank & The Winterset; upon leaving the band, she teamed up with fellow-songwriter Heidi Tidow, whom she had first met “in the queue for the X-Factor auditions in Manchester”, and they got on so famously (both professionally and personally) that they’ve collaborated ever since.
In fact, the eerie booklet portrait of Belinda and Heidi makes them look almost – but not quite – just like twin sisters, and their impeccably suited (in both senses of the word) musical togetherness is equally uncanny.
Their debut joint album is an extraordinary, multi-layered creation that defies easy description. I guess the closest meaningful term to use would be that of chamber-folk, but although that tag may conjure up the texturings of the Unthanks its sparse sound-world is only half the story, for it’s also an artistic statement replete with intense poetry, recalling at times particularly the enigmatic sensibility of Lal Waterson, in an atmosphere of tender humanity. Belinda’s stylish, passionate and truly inventive piano playing is the lynchpin of the disc, and the ladies’ voices dovetail perfectly both with this vital timbre and the selective contributions of other musicians (James Dumbelton, Jackie Oates, James Budden, Anna Esslemont, Cormac Byrne and a string quartet). Silent June is a bold sequence of eleven songs (all but two self-penned by the ladies themselves) that are mostly characterised by dark neo-classical texturings but occasionally step out into the wintry sunlight.
Initially, Belinda’s will seem the dominant personality, and she certainly takes the lion’s share of the writing (and instrumental performing) credits, but more attentive listening will reveal just how key Heidi’s vocal (although of a quite different character from Belinda’s) is to both the whole sound-picture and the storytelling element. The quality of the songwriting is absolutely stunning, the opening Flight Of The Petrel demanding first rapt concentration and then instant repeat play before the ringing syncopations of All Stand In Line are allowed to interrupt the stream of consciousness. A scene-changing interlude is provided by a pithy, facetious children’s song and a delicate rendition of Spancil Hill, before we return to intensity with the heartbreaking tone-poem of Too Old To Dream, the high drama of Hidden From The Sun and the almost unbearably poignant Que Sera (from the lyric of which song the disc derives its title). The disc’s closing curveballs comprise the delectable One More Xmas and the keen acappella rebel song Cold And Stiff (the latter fittingly dedicated to Chumbawamba!). This is one of those albums that’s perhaps not destined to yield up its riches lightly; it demands serious and concentrated listening, surely, but, mark my words, it will more than repay any efforts you expend.
www.myspace.com/belindaohooleymusic
David Kidman
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Chumbawamba – ABCDEFG (No Masters Co-operative NMCD. 33)
The latest release from the mighty Chumbawamba is a “virtual lexicon” that takes the listener on a provocative (and thought-provoking) journey through the “musical alphabet” (well, the do-re-mi of the musical scale at any rate), entertainingly examining the cultural and political impact of its wondrous myriad of forms and possibilities. Fittingly therefore, on a musical level it’s possibly Chumba’s most eclectic album yet, with dashing acoustic-based forays into – and (typically) highly literate commentaries on – folk, pop, classical, jazz, lounge, music-hall, in fact any kind of music whatsoever.
For music is the vital life force that drives and inspires us all, and it rightly provides the focus and linking concept for the new album, which forms an enduring, and at times quite challenging, homage. Chumba’s forte has always been their keen, right-on ability to tellingly explore (and where necessary poke holes in the serious pretensions or pompousness of) important matters of history, politics and philosophy, doing this in entirely appropriate (and often maddeningly catchy) and non-exclusive musical language. So here we’re invited to consider a host of ideas about music, ranging from honest celebrations of the universal power of the voice and the primal role of singing (Brecht’s Voices, That’s All) to affectionate reminiscences of “furtive listening in the dark to a transistor radio under the pillow (Underground), from the (ab)use of music for torture (Torturing James Hetfield) to prevailing unhealthy attitudes to folk tradition: eg. the wish to preserve in aspic (Pickle) or bowdlerise (The Song Collector).
Chumba also expose some of the arbitrary, purely politically expedient and/or just plain bone-headed ideological decisions that throughout history have adversely affected the availability or acceptance of key musical statements: the ridiculous religious mis-interpretation of the musical dissonance known as The Devil’s Interval, the censorship of the music of Shostakovich during the Stalin era (Hammer, Stirrup & Anvil), the politically problematic subsequent reputation of Wagner’s music since the Nazi era (Wagner At The Opera), the relentless parade of cheery music to stifle dissenting voices during wartime (That Same So-So Tune), and – bang up to date here – the BNP’s intended infiltration and reclamation of English folk music for their own nefarious ends (Dance, Idiot, Dance). (Hey, is that a dole queue I hear? Whatever, we can all take comfort in the fact that no Nazis were charmed in the making of this record!…) To help them realise their observations with maximum potency, our Chumba chums have recruited the services of Jon Boden, Chopper, Jo Freya, Belinda O’Hooley, Heidi Tidow, Harry Hamer, a marching brass band and a string ensemble – and the massed No Masters Co-operativists! Totally brilliant – and totally relevant.
David Kidman
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Review by Pete Hardman – January 2009
CD REVIEW – Bandersnatch ‘Changing Days’
Did you watch the remake of ‘The 39 Steps’ over Christmas, with current heartthrob Rupert Penry Jones? Were you as disappointed as I was? No Forth rail bridge, no bloke in the theatre who has to answer in truths, etc? Why can’t they leave these things alone?
However, proof that you CAN remake a classic and add to its value is amply demonstrated by the opening track of Bandersnatch’s second album, ‘Changing Days’. Their arrangement of that stalwart Folk Club dietary staple, ‘Lancashire Lads’ is, in my humble opinion, a cracking job – it just grows and grows on you and transpires to be just the opening track of an excellent and thoroughly enjoyable album.
In fact the second track up, the eponymous ‘These Changing Days’, indicates what we’re about with this CD, the band’s second album but the first with a new line up. The Band have embraced a number of changes, both organic and acquisitioned and have used the opportunity to respect the existing quality but also to build on what was good to begin with.
Perhaps most immediately obvious in the new line up is the addition of Becky Raw, adding another depth of talent from a number of aspects.The inclusion of a (lovely) female vocal, be it lead or harmonies, definitely adds and expands the overall appeal. A good example is the gospel song ‘Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down’ – very nicely done. And using the time honoured ability of all females to multi task, Becky’s wonderfully sympathetic interpretation of Violin and Viola parts is just spot on.
Similarly, multi – instrumentalist Ian Kell adds keyboard, as well as lead electric and acoustic guitar into the balance, and again here the secret is that Ian’s playing always just adds enough to the overall mix – in my view the signature appeal of the band.
Other highlights of the album include the evocative ‘Storm Around Tumbledown’ (I defy you not to join in), ‘Copperline’ (James Taylor), ‘Dallas Rag’ (I’ll bet Dennis Dodd has one of those stripy coloured jackets at home), and of course the title track ‘These Changing Days’, sung beautifully, once again by Becky.
I should at this point confess that I’ve always enjoyed the sound that Bandersnatch produce – whilst the general ‘feel’ of the band is based in traditional music, it’s the sheer variety and the delivery (trad/original/covers/gospel/ragtime), that, added to their musicality, make them so listenable.
‘Changing Days’ is a worthy and optimistic addition to anyone’s CD collection, a sort of ‘feel good’ album; there is singalong, there is frisson, there is tenderness – I can’t recommend it highly enough.
Finally, I have to mention the much missed Clive Leyland. I can imagine the band postulating on how best to celebrate his legacy as a songwriter and significant band member. Well, I think you’ve done it, guys. I can just picture Clive sitting on his cloud, nodding in approval…..Yes, I think you’ve done it beautifully.
Pete Hardman, Garstang Unplugged. January 2009
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ALTAN – 25th Anniversary Celebration (IRL044)
Is it really 25 years ago that I first saw Altan performing in Hastings at a hastily put together gig in the non too salubrious setting of the local Catholic hall? I do remember fondly though the rapturous applause from an astonished packed audience.
Of course, since then the band have gone on to world domination with their trademark brand of traditional/contemporary folk music. Fronted by the beautiful, delicate vocals and fiddle playing of Mairead Ni Mhaonaigh joined by Ciaran Tourish (fiddle), Dermot Byrne (accordions), Ciaran Curran (bouzouki) and Mark Kelly (guitar) the band have nothing to prove when it comes to musical virtuosity although to make things slightly different this time round the icing on the cake…as if any were needed…is provided by the ‘backing’ band The RTE Concert Orchestra.
In many respects this recording takes me back to the days when I first heard the James Last Orchestra performing traditional Irish standards only here it’s executed with a little more subtlety and class. Delving into their back catalogue Altan have a wealth of great material to choose from and included here are the jaunty “Is The Big Man Within/Tilly Finn’s Reel”, the melancholy “I Wish My Love Was A Red, Red Rose” and the infectiously string driven “Comb Your Hair And Curl It/Gweebarra Bridge”. For nostalgia’s sake alone it’s nice to have a new album by the band but let’s hope it isn’t another five years before the next one.
Further information from www.altan.ie
Pete Fyfe
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Krista Detor, Chocolate Paper Suites (Corazong Records, 2010)
Krista Detor is one of those slow-burning artists, who quietly turns out albums brimming with classy and engaging songs, portraying a view of life that is sometimes wry, and always thoughtful. Listeners fall at her feet following their first encounter, and whole audiences find themselves quickly under Krista's spell, eating out of the palm of her hand. Soon, she will dominate the world, but for now a growing and adoring army of followers can enjoy her latest efforts, and find much in the way of further ammunition to assist in their evangelisation of the uninitiated.
Chocolate Paper Suites is not without a certain quirkiness, with the fifteen songs gathered into five suites. The themes that bind the suites, or even the very reason for their being, aren't always immediately obvious but this only adds to the hypnotic enigma that Krista instils within her craft.
"Rich Man's Life" opens the album with an ominously pounding rhythm section and a tenacious string arrangement that adds further menace. Krista's vocals bring with them a degree of scorn that makes you wonder whether she's really cut out for the rich man's life that her lyrics crave. By the third track, "Recklessness & Rust," Krista is firmly in her familiar territory, accompanied by just her own piano and a hammered dulcimer, delivering a healthy dose of realism that should feel like a slap around the face, but instead feels like a gentle arm round the shoulder ("everything returns to dust, everything returns to rust, just like the buckle on your shoe, soon be copper coloured too"). Combined with a view of the world that has an undeniably childlike wonder ("waltzing angels whispering secrets to the alabaster"), Krista manages to fashion a sense of candour and comfort, that results in an unavoidable and unreserved surrender of your heart and mind to her bewitching spell.
Krista also has her fair share of jazz-soaked, sultry chanteuse moments, as evidenced here by "Teeter-Totter on a Star;" the way she gently attacks each syllable yet hangs on to notes with a dreamy insouciance, really is the ultimate musical seduction. When she's not soothing or seducing, Krista can also whip up a manic frenzy, and her frantic cries for cigarettes and black coffee on "Middle of a Breakdown" are indeed an edgy performance. The most poignant moments are generally where Krista's vocals are to the fore, against a sparse backdrop of piano and guitar, and where she appears to be imparting a plea to a friend or loved one: witness "Deliver Me," a cautionary "told you so" tale of unrequited love, or the gentle reminder provided by "A Hundred Years More" that time is slipping away whilst hopes and dreams remain much discussed yet ultimately unrealised.
A common factor throughout Krista's songs is the thoughtful intelligence that belies her lyrics, and this could be no more apparent than on the Darwin Songhouse suite. Composed and performed during a week-long retreat with seven other song-writers in a five-hundred-year-old Shropshire farmhouse, the three songs are soaked in the history of the Darwinian era, the challenging depth that defined Darwin's work, and a vivid evocation of the characters who occupied parts of Darwin's life. "Clock Of The World" is worthy of particular attention, contrasting the trivialities of bourgeois society with the inevitable and perpetual cycle of life: birth, marriage and death.
It's now been two years since I first fell for the veritable charms of this transatlantic siren of song, yet Krista's songs regularly catch my emotions off-guard; they behold an immediate and affecting impact that demands emotional engagement, and rewards with a perceptive and calming rapport. Chocolate Paper Suites persists beautifully, refining this delicious and distinct recipe.
Visit Krista's web site here!
Mike Wilson
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Heather Bristow – Hope on The Vine (Heifer Music HR. 012009)
Although born and raised in North Carolina, Heather has made the UK her base since gaining her masters’ degree in poetry at Bath Spa University and marrying violin maker Daniel (whom she met at a bluegrass camp). Although she spent her early years listening to records of Emmylou and Dolly with her family, she only came to bluegrass proper after a period studying classical violin, on a chance visit to a banjo shop in South Florida – since which time she’s developed her skills on bluegrass fiddle and banjo. But it’s her singing voice and her songwriting that provide the focus on her debut CD, and although these betray a certain degree of influence from the listening habits of her formative years, there’s no slavish imitation. Instead Heather’s own music exhibits a freshness, a lightness of touch and a genuine gentle enthusiasm for communicating her feelings and experiences in attractively poetic imagery and listener-friendly, though philosophical language.
The opening sequence of songs is particularly strong, with the emotional resonances of Who’s Gonna Tend Your Grave? (written on the tenth anniversary of the death of her father) reverberating for some time thereafter. There are high points later in the set too: best of all the tender Stars Falling (which features a really beautiful guitar part from Colin Sillence and some stunning vocal harmonies), but it’s impossible not to mention the touching Somehow (dedicated to her sister Ashley), the catchy driven gospel of Ain’t Glory Grand?, the acappella Miner’s Tale (which like That Train Won’t Run is based on a true story), the sprightly I Can Hear Those Hills (topped off with a neat fiddle tune), and the closing pair of Stargazing and Southern Storm (the latter dedicated to husband Danny). At its best, Heather’s singing reminds me of a lower-register version of Alison Krauss (the opener Seasons is a good illustration), but throughout the disc she demonstrates a thorough command of the bluegrass idiom. Heather’s vocal personality is both pleasing and accommodating, but it would be unfair not to lay some of the credit for the overall success of this album at the door of her support crew – notably producer and instrumentalist Ben Winship, but also fiddler Brian Wicklund, four other guitarists (especially John Lowell, who also vocal-duets with Heather on Lonesome Lullaby), banjoists Ted Wells and Pete Sibley, bassist Eric Thorin, dobro player Ivan Rosenberg and harmony vocalist Anne Sibley.
The disc contains a brief bonus track that – unusually – forms a spoken memoir of her upbringing punctuated with snatches of songs recalled from that time; I guess she could’ve made a little more of that… If pushed, I do have one minor reservation, in that Heather displays a very occasional tendency to lapse into part-spoken delivery, which just sounds both mildly self-conscious and slightly twee (as on I’m Ready). And sometimes Heather’s voice could benefit from a little more presence across the entire range. Also, sometimes I feel Heather’s gift for melody sells her a little short and could be further developed. But these points don’t in any way seriously hamper enjoyment of this undemonstratively impressive debut.
www.myspace.com/heatherbristow
David Kidman
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Malcolm Holcombe – For The Mission Baby (Echo Mountain Records)
Malcolm’s personal sound-world is that of the primordial backwoods – but there’s more to him that that. Hailing from North Carolina, with a growly voice shot through with gravel, gargle and grit that’s fierce competition for Tom Waits, he won’t be everyone’s cup of molasses, but his potent brand of songwriting has much to say. Think a cross between John Prine, Guy Clark, Seasick Steve, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and Woody Guthrie perhaps: but musically mixing raw homegrown mountain country, bluegrass and footstomping blues.
Not easy to reference, but richly compelling in its own sweet way. Malcolm’s eighth solo album presents a dozen songs that generally seem to be straight neighbourhood philosophy and storytelling from the realms of dusty Americana yet in the end can leave you unsure of what they’re actually about. There seems to be a bit if a preoccupation with death (on songs like Another One Gone and Someone’s Left Behind), but it’s not a specially morbid one, in fact Malcolm seems rather sanguine about the prospect, but you can’t be entirely sure I guess, and there’s also considerable sympathy in his portraits of fellow-travellers along life’s road to death. Similarly with the music: just where you feel you’ve got a handle on Malcolm he wanders off into another realm. Bigtime Blues and Leonard’s Pigpen both have a swampy Cooder/Beefheart/Rebennack feel, while the plaintive Straight And Tall takes the form of a melancholy prayer; Hannah’s Trading Post is a telling, tough vignette, and For The Mission Baby is a delicate shuffle that complements Whenever I Pray’s optimism.
The paradox is that while Malcolm’s music sounds totally raw and authentic with a wellspring deep in rustic tradition it’s also pretty much unique and personal, with a born-songwriter’s lyricism that’s somehow illogical in this context but hey, it’s a hell of a combination. The excellently clear-sighted production of the disc by Ray Kennedy really does Malcolm proud, and gives us maximum chance of latching onto his vision. Malcolm and his trademark 1950 Gibson J-45 get some brilliant “less is more” instrumental support from Tim O’Brien, Jared Tyler, David Roe and Lynn Williams, while Mary Gauthier and Siobhan Maher help out with vocal harmonies here and there. It’s a stylish disc, and one which should raise Malcolm’s profile a notch or two in the UK – I’ve heard he’s been championed by Bob Harris and even appeared at Celtic Connections this year, which has gotta be a good sign.
David Kidman
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Erin McKeown – Hundreds of Lions (Righteous Babe RBR. 068)
It’s five years since this Virginia-based songwriter released her last album of original songs, We Will Become Like Birds, and if ever an album has been worth the wait…! Erin’s always been one of the quirkiest of talents, and her fiercely independent creativity here finds a natural home on Ani Di Franco’s label. It’s a record that blows sweet and sour, cool and incandescent, often covering extremes of experience – and believably too – during the course of just one song. There’s always a twist… It’s all rather like a circus, a charming freak-show that one minute has you firmly in the land of Oz (the child’s-garden-cum-sinister-playbox world of To A Hammer) and another crouching close in order to share in the intimate but itchy and queasy confessions of the lover (All That Time You Missed).
And danger is never far away… The experimental production techniques that Erin uses on this album really work to her advantage, and the album is intensely compelling in its sheer strangeness, its creativity not overpowering although often teetering on the brink of weird. Erin’s skill as a multi-instrumentalist no doubt informs that creativity, and each of the album’s 11 songs is imbued with a very distinct, and quite different, character. The disc moves surprisingly naturally from the introspective chamber-folkiness of You, Sailor and the floating ambiences of The Boats to the casually majestic organ chordings of 28 (which build to a bright gamelan) and the carefree carnival-folk of The Rascal, with its lightly juicy and sugar-toned orchestrations that you can virtually taste. Scratchy, skittery, spidery percussion pervades Santa Cruz, while The Foxes burrow through your consciousness with a seriously creepy march rhythm which is taken up again for The Lions. Muffled scuffling electronica and creepily arcane whisperings impart a sense of acute claustrophobia to (Put The Fun Back In) The Funeral, and the disc closes with the fractured, birdsong-infused Seamless, which in bleakly and honestly confronting a stark and yet humbling metaphysical truth seems to stare right into the abyss. Erin’s latest batch of songs is magnificently idiosyncratic, with tangible and dynamic yet often subtly cryptic imagery striking a curiously apt balance of expression. The album’s packaging is intriguing too, with a tuck-and-fold outer sleeve containing a foldout poster that includes full lyrics and drawings of a veritable pride of lions. Erin’s produced a daring, adventurous and stimulating – and lasting – album here.
David Kidman
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Dana & Susan Robinson – Big Mystery (Threshold Music TM. 0910)
Released late last year (thus in plenty of time for this spring’s UK tour!), this thoroughly unpretentious disc continues Dana & Susan’s run of lovely releases (it’s their third as a duo). Its loose theme is the enduring beauty and prolific life force that exists all around us, and musically speaking it’s the customary highly convivial mix of old-time, traditional and self-penned material, with some tunes thrown in too for good measure. The disc is framed by a couple of delicate acoustic-pop-style creations. Big Mystery is described as “a love song to Vermont during the month of May”, fresh and neatly understated, while Dog’s Life is an entirely affectionate first-person account with a gentle, kinda-catchy Buddy-Holly feel.
Zephyr Wind brushes in on the breeze with deeper reflections triggered by a hike, while Dana’s deceptively sophisticated observational skills come into their own on the Guthrie-esque Cairo (which both evokes and explores a once-grand confluence that’s now but a fading American infrastructure) and Delta Queen (which lovingly remembers the vintage Mississippi steamboats). Gone But Not Forgotten, a standout track, is a supremely idiomatic rendition of Lui Collins’ authentically ancient-sounding ballad, while in an entirely different vein there’s Susan’s charming interpretation of Bill Steele’s touching take on the Cinderella story (Griselda’s Waltz). The disc’s three instrumental items speak volumes for Dana & Susan’s accomplishment as musicians, always elegant yet with enough fire to bring alive the soft and carefully considered textures and shadings; Waiting For Gordon, composed by Dana on the Isle Of Mull, really does evoke the mysterious and slightly exotic beauty of that location and the unhurried pulse of its life. Throughout the disc, I’m stunned, albeit ever so nicely, by the impact of Dana and Susan’s uniformly stylish playing and singing, their deft eloquence and unfailing rightness of judgement, where and how the ideal balance should lie and exactly the right colours to employ. Their own quietly confident skills on guitar, banjo, fiddle, mandolins and harmonica are suitably enhanced by Chris Rosser (piano and dotar), Eliot Wadofian (acoustic bass) and River Guerguerian (percussion).
As an entity, Big Mystery certainly charms the listener indelibly on first acquaintance, but (exactly as with Dana’s earlier work) its clean, simple values and general air of easygoing whimsy may initially conspire to undersell the product to the less persistent soul. To me, there’s no big mystery about its appeal, and after you’ve experienced the couple on tour (starting early March) you’re bound to agree.
David Kidman
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Amchitka: The Concert that launched Greenpeace – Phil Ochs, James Taylor & Joni Mitchell (Greenpeace)
Amchitka was the volcanic island in southwest Alaska where the US government carried out underground nuclear tests in 1965 and 1969. Such was the cumulative outrage that one year later, in October 1970, a concert took place in Vancouver to raise funds to send 11 peace activists to the island by boat (which was christened The Greenpeace) as a protest prior to the third scheduled test; although they didn’t succeed in stopping the test, the organisation Greenpeace was born out of that protest, and it still flourishes to this day.
But until now, the tapes of this historic concert had been denied public airing; happily, Greenpeace co-founder Irving Stowe has now agreed to their release, and all proceeds from the sale of this special two-disc set, available exclusively through Greenpeace itself, will benefit the organisation (www.amchitka-concert.com). Musically speaking, it’s a pretty momentous occasion too. Phil Ochs’ fiery opening set contains turbo-charged versions of seven of his acknowledged classics (including I Ain’t Marching Anymore, Joe Hill, Changes, Rhythms Of Revolution and No More Songs), kicking off with his setting of Poe’s The Bells.
He’s followed up on stage by James Taylor, who was very enthusiastically received by the crowd (his Sweet Baby James album had just gone platinum); he ran through seven songs that have since become repertoire standards including Something In The Way She Moves, Fire And Rain and You Can Close Your Eyes. The second disc is devoted entirely to Joni’s set – well, most of it… It contains some stunning performances, notably of Woodstock, the still-maddeningly-unreleased song Hunter and the yet-to-be-recorded My Old Man (with that gorgeously discomforting melodic shift), as well as a couple of duets with James Taylor (The Circle Game, where the tape runs out after the second chorus unfortunately, and the second half of Mr Tambourine Man). Joni brings out the Appalachian dulcimer for Carey and A Case Of You, and casually segues Big Yellow Taxi into one of her high-school favourites, the rock’n’roller Bony Maronie – and later on, it doesn’t matter a bit that she loses her way awhile during For Free. A magnificent set – and a concert of lasting historical and musical significance that I’d consider essential to your collection.
David Kidman