Salier's Digging For your Dreams opens the band version, a bittersweet reflection of a life lived and days passing that sets the mood for many of the songs that follow. She picks up the theme on Love of Our Lives, a mandolin strummed song about their gay marriage, while the acknowledgement of failures in I'll Change ("I've been running long before I learned to crawl") and the fisherman and harbour imagery of the vocally soaring Fleet Of Hope (from whence comes the first half of the title) both turn to wistful self-examination.
Ray too is in reflective mood, revisiting the infectiously perky Driver Education from her solo album with its memories of coming of age and rebellion and early romantic blows while, riding a REM-like electric guitar riff Ghost of the Gang is stained with death; Jimmy who 'died on his couch yesterday', weighed down by bills and a bad back, and, compounded by guilt over never having called to commiserate, the friend's nephew who committed suicide on the railway tracks.
She also contributes a brace of relationship numbers. Curiously both of them borrowing from other songs. The organ and banjo backed Second Time Around (a warning against compromise which includes the second half of the title, namechecks Loretta Lynn and includes a line about being "a god-fearing lesbian) lifts from Tangled Up In Blue while. If you can get your head round the idea, True Romantic is a virtual dead ringer for Radiohead's Creep.
She also provides the album's only political input with Sugar Tongue, a lilting folk rock number that touches on environmental destruction, colonisation, genocide and "the dirty work of battle hymns."
And you get to hear them all again on the second CD, stripped down (though the very nature of their sound means that, while less rocky, there's not a huge variation in the arrangements but there is, perhaps, a closer focus on the harmonies), albeit in a different running order.
It's difficult to call as a preference, though I do incline to the more countrified flavours of the acoustic session I'll Change and Love Of Our Lives feels a little more emotionally full, but you do get an extra track, the harmonica blowing Salty South and, in its telling of the displacement of the Seminoles, another of Ray's politically fuelled tunes.
But, whichever you end up playing the most, either way this is both quintessentially Indigo Girls and one of the best albums they've made in years.
www.myspace.com/indigogirlsmusic
www.indigogirls.com
Mike Davies June 2009
Tommy's known as the principal songwriter of the six-strong Sands Family group (though it contains at least two other fine songwriters!), and he's become a legend in his own lifetime as one of his country's foremost peace activists. It can't be said that Tommy's songwriting output is prodigious, however, for the release of Let The Circle Be Wide is a cause for celebration simply by dint of its being his first CD of original material since 1995 (his only other new CD in the intervening years being a 2001 Christmas record). Rest assured though, for Tommy's not lost his touch in any way and I'm sure that many of the new songs included herein will swiftly become well-loved within the folk community, if not perhaps attaining quite the classic status of There Were Roses or Daughters And Sons.
Tommy's trademark political and artistic integrity is stamped on every song he's written, and his dream of an Ireland without conflict remains as powerful and committed as ever; he addresses the global concerns of humanity in an accessible and attractive musical language that resonates with the universal appeal of traditional Irish music. The opening Young Man's Dream is actually based on the original version of Danny Boy, but has none of the hackneyed crooner's grandstanding of the popular ballad we all know, being instead a clear and fresh paean that "suggests the surrender of the singer to the song rather than the other way round". Another well-known tune, Lillibulero, weaves in and out of The People Have Spoken, a brilliantly effective political statement that draws parallels between two opposing Ulster catchphrases. Time For Asking Why is another time-honoured plea that transcends its simple philosophical conundrum. There's a heartfelt celebration of the late, great Tommy Makem, with whom Tommy was great friends, and at the other end of the emotional spectrum a light-hearted reel-like song of craic (Balleyvalley Brae) and a rollicking anecdote about the healing powers of a fiddle champion (Send For Maguire). Fields Of Daisies is a modern-day broken-token song that really hits the spot, as does the evocative Carlingford Bay, while the tenderly voiced You Will Never Grow Old, dedicated to Tommy's brother Dino, is a slice of perfection that apparently took Tommy thirty years to write! The softly anthemic (almost Seegeresque) Keep On Singing is one of those optimistic numbers you can't shake from your consciousness once you've heard it, and Tommy's all-embracing idealistic positivism lingers on into Make Those Dreams Come True and the album's closing (title) song. One curiosity is Rovers Of Wonder, wherein Tommy conjures a musical alliance between himself and a group of Mongolian throat-singers. Which brings me to the observation that the musical backdrops Tommy employs throughout this set are exceedingly well-drawn and expertly recorded, with every strand of the sometimes quite busy and bustling texture admirably cleanly delineated and followed without distracting from the impact of the lyrics or Tommy's fabulous singing voice.
On this album, Tommy's also joined by his son Fionan (mandolin/banjo) and daughter Moya (fiddle/whistle/bodhrán), the latter turning in a tremendous and beautiful rendition of Brian O'Higgins' A Stór Mo Chroí midway through the disc. Throughout, Tommy uses his music and song to pursue his goal of bridging cultural and political differences, and his universal vision of, and quest for, peace is as potent as ever. Welcome back, Tommy! For this is a triumph of a record: a wonderfully affectionate album, full of supremely engaging and enchanting songs and performances.
David Kidman 2009
The name Lee Harvey Osmond will not be familiar to many readers I fear - its knowing jokiness would’ve been lost on me, and I might not have given this rather awesome and thoroughly enchanting disc a chance at all, had I not been alerted to the fact that LHO is effectively a nom-de-guerre for Blackie & The Rodeo Kings’ perennially hyperactive guitarist Tom Wilson. He’s always been a mercurial figure, hard to pin down musically - and visually too, it seems, for few but diehards even noticed his presence on last summer’s series of odd internet video clips that had been attributed to LHO.
In effect, the LHO brand-name is, though ostensibly Tom’s new band, more an impromptu artists’ collective, providing a conscious vehicle for Tom’s desire to bring back to folk music the working-class grime, "the bottom end, the groove, the darkness". Its genesis lies in a November 2006 travelling music festival (Roots On The Rails) which took artists and fans on a cross-Canada train trip that involved nightly performances and musical interaction and featured acts that included Blackie, Cowboy Junkies and the Skydiggers. Tom was co-writing songs with Skydiggers’ Josh Finlayson, which eventually formed the basis of A Quiet Evil, also inspired by themes from the Kennedy Suite, a pet project of the CJs’ Michael Timmins that was centred round the Kennedy assassination. Perhaps it’s misleading to dwell on the latter, for aside from Parkland (a revisit of a Kennedy Suite track for which Tom had contributed a vocal part), A Quiet Evil’s lyrical preoccupations focus farther and wider, from the ominous whispered relationship conundrum of Blade Of Grass to a slow-boiling dispute over aboriginal land rights (The Love Of One). Tom’s core "band" (Andy Maize, Michael & Margo Timmins, Aaron Goldstein, Brent Titcomb and Ray Farrugia) draws heavily from the aforementioned combos as well as the Sadies and Junkhouse, while sundry other guests also contribute telling cameos to the proceedings, but the total sound-picture is never unduly cluttered or distracting. The album sessions produced a loose but powerfully atmospheric vibe, delicately judged and executed, with quiet and subtle guitar pyrotechnics and gentle pedal steel and keyboard touches layered over soft-brushed percussion. Perfectly suited to Tom’s dark, often sinister visions, in fact, but also making a considerable virtue of sonic understatement. The songs seep into your almost by osmosis in fact (pun definitely intended!) ...
The heart-melting number I’m Going To Stay That Way (co-written with Tom’s ex, Cathy Jones) features Tom duetting with Margo Timmins, and Tom "walks the line" somewhat on the shuffle-beat Queen Bee. Tom then tops up his own compositions with a handful of covers, including Timmins’ Angels In The Wilderness (which receives a standout vocal performance from Tom), David Wiffen’s Lucifer’s Blues (on which Tom employs a laconic spoken delivery, and the old Velvets rouser I Can’t Stand It (slightly grungy but groovy and driven, yet it doesn’t quite work as the album’s conclusion). Taken as a whole, however, A Quiet Evil satisfies greatly outside of any pseudo-conceptual considerations, and Tom’s dark concerns (with their carefully-matched musical settings) richly deserve to be taken seriously.
David Kidman June 2009
Allison’s got an interesting singing voice: dark with experience, slightly worn and croaky at times, and possessing an authentically hard mountain edge that sounds really well against her striking clawhammer banjo playing. Said instrument naturally features prominently on the cover pic of Give Me The Roses, Allison’s debut solo CD (which in fact came out last autumn), so we might expect at least a good modicum of oldtime-inspired music therein I guess. Which ain’t quite what we get, actually. Not that there’s a problem, it’s more a case of strength in diversity, although first playthrough may be a touch disconcerting. So, just to prepare you ...
There’s five exuberant, medium-to-hard-driven (and quite brilliant) covers of oldtime string-band numbers, on most of which Allison’s backed by a crack little combo comprising Tim Gardner (High Windy Band), Dom Flemons (Carolina Chocolate Drops), Matt Kinman (The Little Hobo) and Joe DeJarnette (Wiyos) - the last-named being responsible for the album’s production, by the way. Allison happily credits her sources (Tennessee Ramblers, Rick Ward, Tilman & Molly Pyeatt, Carter Family, Georgia Organ Grinders), but she’s not afraid to "do something that will probably make ’em all mad" in her slightly idiosyncratic reinterpretations, like bringing in what sounds like a set of quill-pipes (homage to Henry Thomas?) on Charming Betsy. Then there’s a clutch of really attractive original songs, largely in a more folky-s/s mode (The Harbor and the soul-searching Anything), where Allison accompanies herself on piano or guitar. And then it’s back to banjo for the easy-rollin’ travellin’ song Love In The Election Year Part 1 and the gorgeous Construction (a standout cut, which also features guest Jeff Whitworth on lap steel). And talking of gorgeous, Allison treats us to a couple of swingingly-paced original triple-timers including the seriously beautiful Lee Creek Waltz on which she plays fiddle in twin-mode along with Tim.
In the above company, maybe the remaining two tracks don’t quite belong: the throwaway swing-shuffle Just What I’ve Been Looking For, and the closer John Hughes Hero, which is a cheery, if cheesy Casio’n’handclap original reeking of schoolday pop-culture. But successive plays reveal the charms of these oddball moments almost as much as the delights of the more traditional-sounding tracks, and the whole package hangs together better the more you keep an open mind while you’re listening. And it leaves me breathless with anticipation to hear what sparks will fly when Allison and Chance get together to tour the UK in the (I hope not too distant) future.
www.myspace.com/allisonwilliamsmusic
www.allisonwilliamsmusic.com
David Kidman July 2009
That said, it's not a recurring comparison and those who've likened her sultry tones, perceptive lyrics and softly persuasive melodies to Aimee Mann and Neko Case aren't far wide of the mark.
Her songs largely centring around ended or ending relationships (as Amy Helm duet Better Days shows, even when things are going well she anticipates them taking a downturn), she can turn emotional troughs into gently lilting lullabies (Limelight), broodingly desert night blues (the six minutes intensity of Black Luck) or something rocky like the ultimately hopeful Fade Away.
There's country traces to her melodies and the occasional catch in her voice that bear testimony to those Nashville days but she's more mature folk pop than anything, a groove superbly evidenced on Maybe You Won't where, to a simple choppy acoustic guitar backing, she shares vocals and romance doubts with Teddy Thompson.
With musicians that include Blue Rodeo keyboard player Bob Packwood, Rufus Wainwright bassist Jeff Hill and guitar wizard Jason Crigler (whose played for both Thompson and his mother Linda), it's a deceptively unassuming album that reveals and beguiles more with each listen and, if it garners the exposure it deserves, should provide a firm foundation for a long career.
www.myspace.com/liztormes
www.liztormes.com
Mike Davies July 2009
His tough edged cracked vocals have a lived in warm gruffness while observational character led lyrics tell stories of the American Dream gone sour (Evening), the difficulties of making a living or forging relationship in an unforgiving city (Pray For Rain, Confess) and the incompatibility of booze and affairs of the heart (Let Me Down, Pink Long-Stem Roses), all of which add up to a classic case of blue collar Americana with tunes to match. There's been many a similar troubadour who's arrived on wings of promise only to vanish from sight. On this evidence, Gripka won't be one of them.
www.myspace.com/israelgripka
www.israelgripka.com
Mike Davies July 2009
You'll hear Bacharach and David colours here and there as well as nods to the fresh faced days of The Beatles, although the jaunty vaudeville Top Of The Bottom and the 'perky' AOR of Sleepy People might also find you thinking Gilbert O'Sullivan.
The End sees him getting upbeat with shades of 80s New Wave Costello stapled to alt country guitar rock, Sick Organism is a stabbing cockney pop slice of Squeeze and Wild Boy sees the album off in a sort of 70s sax, keyboards and guitar jazzy jam session, but the default mode is the dreamily melodic laid back approach of things like Daylight Ghosts and the country twang tinged Your Mind's Playing Tricks On You. The voice throughout is effortlessly graceful.
The strongest suit though are Harding’s lyrics. Writing books has clearly sharpened his turn of phrase and narrative acumen, so that My Favourite Angel finds God lamenting his love for Lucifer, Top Of The Bottom offers a self-deprecating faux career overview and music biz critique and Sleepy People is a riposte to drowsers everywhere. Not an obvious album but its charms blossom with repeat listenings and, if you have a place in your heart for Imperial Bedroom or Woodface, then this will sit happily alongside. A welcome return, let's hope he doesn't have another novel in him for a while.
A special edition release also comes with bonus live disc Don't Look Back Now on which, recorded last year at Brooklyn's Union Hall with a band that includes David Lloyd on mandolin, features 11 old favourites (plus a then preview of The Top Of The Bottom), among them The Devil In Me, Kiss Me Miss Liberty, Window Seat, and a duet with Josh Ritter on Our Lady of the Highways.
www.myspace.com/wesleystace
www.johnwesleyharding.com
Mike Davies July 2009
She has a literary bent too, populating her poetic, imagery-rippled songs with references to myth, the Bible and even the Wizard Of Oz. The first three tracks, the lilting Good News, jaunty acoustic rock The War and a plangent The Next Big Bang are all inspired by characters from the Odyssey (as noted in the title parentheses) while exploring lost relationships, longing and anti-war sentiments. They also come with deep personal elements that touch on either a sense of being adrift and public antipathy to her music. "I sing by songs in a minor key but it don't seem to do any good", run the lyrics to Good News where, self-confidence battered, she adds "I've never been much good at this job but it's the only place I call home."
More direct is the Lucinda-ish country rolling Austin, I Made A Mess which reflects on not making it with lines like "I tried to carve out my own little place I followed the rules til I was blue in the face but someone else always had the last word."
Likewise, many of the numbers talk of falling apart (Saint Anthony, Just Down), missing in action or failed relationships (First Lesson with its 9/11 images, The Grammar of A Sinking Ship), being tied to the past (the Crow catchy Drowning In Amsterdam) and lost opportunities (Okay From Now On where she wistfully talks of mothers walking 'little pig-tailed girls in winter coats" to school).
But, these are balanced by the determination keep going ("I swear I won't give up this time", she sings on yearning acoustic ballad A Million Little Rock"), still clinging to childhood beliefs that a prince will come to save her (Coming To Meet Me). And, of course, there's the title track itself where she notes that "there are no pills left to swallow, the bitterest part's gone down....I am packing up the postcards and getting out of town" which is at once self-recrimination ("I forgot to fix myself and it was me who fell apart") and self-encouragement. Odysseus, after all, did finally return home to Penelope and, if she continues to write songs and make music as bittersweet, affecting, tuneful and intelligent as this, then she too should finally find her Ithaca.
www.myspace.com/vanessapeters
www.vanessapeters.com
Mike Davies July 2009
The blaze continues to burn with Run, that welds pumping Ramones power pop punk and classic Petty with a crowd bouncing hook, and the southern barroom boogie of Doomsday Dance where he satirises mankind's dizzy drive towards self-destruction.
The fourth track, Love Is A Train, switches mood from rocking to ballad and backing musicians from The Worry Dolls (Andy York, Brad Albetta, Rich Pagano) to Frankie Lee, Steuart Smith, and Stewart Lerman, a line up formulation that generally holds true of the album's musical divides.
It's Smith and Lee who provide the foundations for the slower material, including the jangling dreamy la la laaing pop Her Love Falls Like Rain, the na na naaing anthemic Give Me Tomorrow and the politically themed Now That The War is Over, a song that makes its point in spite of somewhat doggerel lyrics ("now that the war is over he drinks beer by the keg, now that the war is over Bobby don't have no leg"). Their brightest moments though are the Irish folk flavoured piano simplicity of Touch Me, a touching lament for his brother, and the last hurrah of When The Last Light Goes Out On Broadway.
It's not without its faults. The remaining three Worry Dolls tracks aren't as strong as their earlier offerings, but while the garage rock stomping Magdalena is a bit of a ragged mess with its guitar solo work out, at least both Midnight Rose and the faith/doubt themed Little Light rise from slow starts to stadium arm-swaying finales. A little redecorating might have been in order, but otherwise this house is a definite des res.
www.myspace.com/indigogirlsmusic
www.willienile.com
Mike Davies July 2009
Although there’s various guest musicians, including Cheap Trick drummer Bun E Carlos, it’s essentially a two man effort between multi-instrumentalists Nielsen and Daniel McMahon. However, while they’d clearly have liked to involve a proper orchestra rather than synths, their guitar and piano driven three minute power pop songs never feel shortchanged in terms of lush pop textures, the Beatles meets Nilsson bounce of 1938 and Don’t You particular upbeat standouts while Sugaree brings more of a Band-style country blues feel to proceedings and jaunty Lucy adds pedal steel to a very early Ray Davies feel. At just over five minutes, closing track The Crown is the longest number here, its ‘cosmic Americana’ conjuring floaty thoughts of Brian Wilson veined with John Lennon. He’s not got the most striking voice on the planet, but this is agreeable melodic sunshine.
www.myspace.com/milesnielsen
www.milesnielsen.com
Mike Davies July 2009
As such she’s also partly refocused her attention on topical and social issues, opening with the Louvins-like title track which pays tribute to Mildred and Richard Loving, a Virginian couple who "changed the heart of a nation" when they defied the miscegenation laws ban on interracial marriage back in the late 60s. It’s a little lyrically clumsy, but Griffith socks it across in that keening voice.
Elsewhere John Prine and Todd Snider join her for Not Innocent Enough’s powerful death penalty protest inspired by the case of Philip Workman, executed for the murder of a Memphis police officer despite new evidence proving his innocence, while Across America is a jangling folk rock celebration of the post Obama rebirth of positivity among the nation’s working men and women.
Indeed, American Presidents loom large. LBJ is referenced in Cotton’s hymn to America’s backbone while a disappointingly plodding Still Life (co-penned with Ricky Ross, presumably of Deacon Blue) is a thinly veiled swipe at George W. They’re not the only real life figures to provide material for the songs. She pays tribute to Townes Van Zandt on Up Against The Rain while the gently circling Sing and wistful ballad Things I Don’t Need are clearly autobiographical.
Dee Moeller provides three of the non originals. Party Girl’s fairly forgettable but Money Changes Everything is a catchy rhythmic hula sway even if the lyrics are decidedly cliched while old school honky tonk Tequila After Midnight sounds like vintage Gram and Emmylou number. Booze pours too on the fourth cover and final cut, a beers and tears waltzer from the pen of Edwina Hayes and Griffith’s sometime Blue Moon Orchestra guitarist Clive Gregson.
A flawed return to form perhaps, but a welcome sign that the old juices still run in her veins.
Mike Davies July 2009
However, it’s inevitably going to be the Dylan/McGuinn axis that will pin back most ears, and few capture the sound and spirit as well as Carroll. Now Or Never may be the high water mark, but it’s only a cat’s whisker distance between that, the gravelly voiced What’s Left Of My Heart and the jangling You Just Might Be What I’ve Been Waiting For while Against My Will could be an Irish veined shanty that stowed away aboard McGuinn’s Cardiff Rose. It’s taken him for years and various label hiccups to get this self-released and virtually entirely self-played album out into the world. It would be nice to think the world would show its appreciation.
www.myspace.com/marccarroll
www.marccarroll.com
Mike Davies July 2009
Already winner of a JUNO in Canada as Aboriginal Album Of The Year, it’s licensed to Cooking Vinyl in the UK but for America, where it’s due out in August, it will fittingly mark the 100th release on the Appleseed label.
It opens in full blooded style with No No Keshagesh, a stinging attack on corporate greed (the title translates as Greedy Guts, as in those who consume their own and everyone else’s too) in which, set to a driving tribal rhythm and ‘powwow’ vocals, she sings about those who’ve "got Mother Nature on a luncheon plate, they carve her up and call it real estate."
She’s in equally powerful protest mood on the funky dance mojo working R&B streaked Working For The Government addresses "that age-old money-laundering enterprise called war", stomping the groove like a Cree version of Tina Turner while the spooked hypnotic mantra Little Wheel Spin And Spin comments on how individual prejudices are the building blocks for hate movements.
It’s not all about rant, though.
Her cultural, ethnic and musical roots again evidence, Cho Cho Fire is an urgent number about having fun, a sort of Native American party hard that, utilising an old powwwow sample, references the drumming frenzy of the experience. In similar frame of mind, Blue Sunday’s a rock n rolling homage to the young Elvis whose slap-back recording sound, she says, changed her life. Musically, it’s probably the album’s most inconsequential throwaway, but it still gets the blood jumping, and sounds like it was written to be felt live. The same holds true of I Bet My Heart On You, a ragged barrelhouse New Orleans boogie with Taj Mahal duetting on piano.
For the rest, she’s in quieter, more melancholic, romantic or, on Still This Love Goes On’s folksy homespun dreams of home, wistful mood. With a guitar line that echoes In The Ghetto, a notable highlight is Too Much Is Never Enough, a soaringly tender love song that showcases that Sainte-Marie warble while of no less merit you’ll find To The Ends Of The World, a bluesy torch number that, deliberately or not, evokes Skeeter Davis classic The End Of The World, and the touching Easy Like The Snow Falls Down , a sort of Lean On Me dedicated to hospice workers helping families struck by dementia and Alzheimers.
Sainte-Marie has described how, in the 70s, she and others in the Red Power movements, had been blacklisted and effectively put out of business, Lyndon Johnson apparently writing letters in the 80s praising radio stations that had suppressed her music. All the more poignant then to hear her sing America The Beautiful on which she gives the traditional national anthem a little twist with ‘words and music Ind’n style’ of her own. Hers may be a different drum, but it beats proud from sea to shining sea.
Fans and newcomers alike should seek out the special edition featuring hour long documentary A Multimedia Life which, through present day interviews (with herself and the likes of Eric Andersen, Joni Mitchell and Robbie Robertson), archive footage and photos, and live performance (including a vintage Universal Soldier) charts her background, life and career.
Mike Davies July 2009
On the evidence of album number two, the boys sure bring an abundance of youthful energy to both traditional material and original compositions, a raging, almost-punk full-ahead charge that's wedded to some tremendous (and authentically driven) individual playing and a tightly-coordinated band sound that conjures up the image of all four huddled round a single radio mic just doin' what they do – and how! So far, WTBB have invited comparisons with Old Crow Medicine Show, but I feel they've an edge in that they're more raw, with an unashamedly rockin'-out stance, really getting off on the music yet still treating their sources with respect. They sure know how to have a good time, and the gutbucket-hoedown of tracks like Greasy Coat is as infectious as they come; while they romp through the chestnut Sitting On Top Of The World like they really do have no cares. They do a nice line in mid-paced rollin' too, with some great high'n'lonesome harmonies on tracks like I'm Blue And Lonesome. OK, so there's a slight hint of pastiche on one or two of the original compositions, which have a bit of a "still feelin' their way" mood to them, but they'll still stand up to any competition.
The production is great, and really captures the down-home/garage essence of the foursome's rough'n'ready, take-it-or-leave-it music-making; and the inclusion of just one (even more energetic) live cut Tennessee near the end of the disc is not the misjudgement it might've been. So go reel in that there ol' catfish and have yourself a great feast with some real invigorating music. On tour in the UK later in July.
David Kidman July 2009
This extraordinary disc presents some powerful performances by a group of Serbian singers who, following the war-torn 1990s, have moved back to their village of Žegar (located in the hill-country of Dalmatia, Croatia) in order to pick up the threads of their lives and their rich musical traditions. The recordings resulted from a trip made by musicologist Andrew Cronshaw to the area in May 2007 in order to experience first-hand the glorious voice of Serbian revival singer Svetlana Spajic', and the full fascinating story of that trip (and the serendipitous, if difficult circumstances under which the recordings were made) can be found in the beautifully-produced accompanying 60-page booklet, which in addition to copious notes also contains full Serbo-Croat texts and English translations and location photographs.
The music is predominantly vocal and acappella, strange and distinctively full-throated, lively and yet intense: an acquired taste perhaps, but demanding of, and well worth, your attention. It’s performed by a group of just six voices (though it often sounds like more!). Some of the pieces are in the wild trilling quavering and beating-against-drone call-and-responses of the local “groktalica” style, now rare outside the Dalmatian area. This has to be heard to be believed; the delivery may sound harsh, but this is as much due to the guttural vowel-sounds of the language itself as to the tonal quality of the voices, and an inner expressiveness cannot be ruled out. Sources for the sung pieces range from a composition by the formerly-exiled Bosnian folk singer Jandrija Baljak (who leads some of the songs) to new pieces written in traditional style and even a passage of embellished goat-calling. Functionality and entertainment are equally important, therefore, and it proves seriously impossible to resist the folky charms of pieces like the wonderfully resounding, ringing “na bas” Žegar village song, or the festive song (complete with cumulative-refrain) Sinoc' Vec(e Vec(era Jedna Mlada Gospoja (Last Night The Lady Had Supper), or the short sequence of songs sung in the ululating “Golubic' voice”. Indeed, there’s an impressive variety in the techniques used within the vocal performances represented on this disc, while most of the pieces performed are brief, of less than three minutes’ duration, and none outstay their welcome or fascination.
Although the vocal tracks take up the majority of the disc’s playing-time, there are also a few short instrumental tracks played by Obrad Milic( on the diple (a trenchant single-reed wind instrument akin to a bagpipe chanter), and a spell of bell-ringing ends the disc. The music on this CD is simply captivating: at once unearthly and very much of the earth.
www.myspace.com/zegarzivi
www.cloudvalley.com
David Kidman July 2009
I don’t know exactly what I expected from son-of-Warren, but this mostly competent-but-no-more, sometimes plain dull slice of power-pop ain’t it. After one playthrough of Insides Out, I found myself unable to remember any of the tracks in much detail except for Jordan’s cover of dad’s celebrated Studebaker (itself an Excitable Boy outtake). This one’s actually pretty convincing, but then it’s already been out for a while (on the slightly patchy but affectionate and generally companionable WZ tribute album Enjoy Every Sandwich), so it’s hardly worth considering purchase of Insides Out on those grounds alone. A couple more plays of the rest, and there’s still not much of a lasting impression from any of the songs. They’re all efficiently played and arranged, and well enough harmonised (and at least he doesn’t drown under a welter of synths and drum machines, sticking instead to proven guitar-based textures), but ultimately the hooks and moves are predictable and/or mundane, that’s all, mostly in a Brit-power-pop kind of way. Basically, Jordan seems hung up on Brit-pop to the extent that he’s let it submerge any identity of his own. So opener The Joke’s On Me sounds like an outtake from an early XTC session, superficially catchy but in the end unmemorable and entirely without XTC’s panache, whereas the bouncy, chirpy Just Do That smacks more of Leo Sayer, the banality of American Standard’s lyric doesn’t even live up to its carefully-engineered Woolworths-organ backing, and Home could be a late-period Beatles pastiche. And so it goes on. It’s probably symptomatic that Jordan’s lyrics are shallow and almost totally lack the sardonic bite (or even milder irony) of any of his dad’s work. Only on the closing track Too Late To Be Saved do we get any sense of the personal invading his emotional landscape (the loss of both parents within a short space of time). So maybe this disc isn’t an outright turkey, but equally it doesn’t light my candle, sorry.
David Kidman July 2009
Although only the first two songs on the disc (the title track and Uncle Joe The Scarecrow) were actually written by Sandra herself, the majority of the remainder are her own arrangements, mostly of material from traditional sources, the exceptions being compositions by Leon Rosselson (Five Purple Elephants) and Woody Guthrie (Why Oh Why). The Highland Lullaby, where Sandra’s voice is joined by those of Emily Portman and harpist Rachel, is especially lovely, while Frog And The Mouse uses the variant collected by Roy Palmer. Two of the tracks take the form of cante-fables (stories with songs within), the Native American Quillabung especially interesting. The disc’s also sensibly sequenced thematically: for example Sandra’s beautiful setting of Charles Causley’s poem The Dancing Bear is followed by the Bear Dance (one of two enchantingly played instrumental tracks). Backings are kept simple and tasteful, with Dave Newey’s guitar a particularly attractive feature and further selective embellishments from banjo (Daniel Walsh), fiddle (Christi Andropolis), harp (Rachel Newton) augment Sandra’s own concertina, autoharp, dulcimer and percussion to conjure their gentle magic and imparting a refreshingly unpretentious, homey and gimmick-free feel to the proceedings.
And the package artwork, notably the children’s-storybook-style illustrations - by Robyn Kinsman-Blake - is entirely delightful and totally in keeping with the musical content. Though very probably designed primarily with children in mind, there’s absolutely no reason why this well-presented CD should not appeal to all ages, and I suspect it may eclipse conventional “adult” listening in the homes of many grown-ups!
David Kidman July 2009
May Monday is an exceedingly compatible anglo-Scandinavian duo comprising piano-accordionist Karen Tweed and Finnish pianist Timo Alakotila, both of whom have a strong reputation for inspirational eclecticism and innovation in any musical milieu in which they choose to work. This applies to composition as well as instrumental accomplishment, as the music on Midnight exemplifies, taking their experimental collaboration a stage further from that heard on their debut May Monday CD collaboration of around seven or eight years ago, in that the new disc virtually exclusively eschews pure traditional sources to concentrate exclusively on Karen and Timo’s own recent compositions and those of their contemporaries.
Midnight consists of a headily diverse yet both individually and cumulatively satisfying sequence of 12 tracks that span the widest emotional gamut while remaining at all times thoroughly musical. Bringing their own musical talents to the keyboard textures on this occasion are Emma Reid, John Dipper and Gerard and Bernard Kilbride (fiddles), Roger Tallroth (guitars), Ursula Leveaux (bassoon) and Neil Yates (flugelhorn), all of whose contributions both delight and surprise in equal measure. In fact, Emma and Roger are heard on a majority of the tracks, making it almost a core quartet sound. Timo’s playing is a combination of rippling inventiveness and cool abandon, although he also deals the music some hefty syncopations at times. The piano sound is imposing and beautifully recorded with both brightness and repose, especially on the closing portrait of Timo’s sister Lumen Valossa. Karen’s playing as always combines an easy virtuosity and distinctive elegance with her characteristic puckish humour, with the more Irish-inspired moments particularly exhilarating.
Delicious contrast is the name of the game, from the scintillating headlong rush of the opening set’s finale Sam’s Tune to the mellow brooding bassoon of Karen’s Moonbeam Passage, Emma leading the running on her own affectionate, gently driving, keening Great Uncle Henry, and a neat pair of waltzes that moves from Parisian café to double-time à-la-Chris Wood. The disc also contains some loving tributes from Karen herself to musician friends, best of which are So Long Joe for the late, much-lamented fiddler Joe Scurfield (paired with the touching Triolipolska by Antti Järvelä), and Midnight Macmaster, a birthday tune from Karen to fellow-Poozie Mary Macmaster. At the other end of the scale, we find the manic dancing-on-eggshells demeanour of Andy Cutting’s Spaghetti Panic and the blazing forward momentum of the ringing jig-set The Carillion. There’s too much to take in on even a few plays, and I’m sure that May Monday will delight for some time to come with its often ambient but always intricate and hauntingly-woven sound-tapestries.
www.myspace.com/maymonday
www.myspace.com/karentweed
www.myspace.com/timoalakotila
David Kidman July 2009
Effectively a sequel to their previous CD Fenlandia, this East-Anglian-themed disc from the established, felicitous partnership of Mary and Anahata bears all their usual hallmarks: sprightly playing, earthy and characterful singing, imaginative accompaniments, and a healthy ratio of songs to tune-medleys (here nine to four).
The songs are in the main drawn from those collected by Vaughan Williams in Fens villages during 1906 and 1907 (the exception being Young And Single Sailor, which comes from the Lucy Broadwood papers). However, as Mary herself has discovered, the snag is that in many cases Vaughan Williams had only notated the music, and didn’t always manage to return to his source to retrieve the words. She has therefore often had to resort to some creative detective work in order to unearth a suitable set of words from the archives, subsequently then either conjecturally matching that text to the collected tune or using a variant text to reconstruct the song itself (rather as RVW himself would likely have done). This practice explains the presence on Cold Fen of many very familiar song-titles, a cursory glance at which makes the tracklisting seem deceptively mundane, even unadventurous. But be reassured, for Mary’s well-developed skill in canny adaptation and sensitive reconstruction gives rise to some intriguing settings that make the proverbial fresh coat of paint seem an understatement (even Abroad As I Was Walking, which incorporates a considerable number of well-travelled phrases!), while Rosemary Lane makes a particularly fetching and lively finale to the disc. In some instances, the “new” tunes adopted for familiar texts or variants may initially seem a trifle flat (it’s the influence of that fenland landscape again!), or at any rate less immediately memorable, but this is undoubtedly because we’re so used to the familiar tunes and so further repeated exposure will yield considerable rewards. The duo’s instrumental settings are well-judged and continually interesting, with cello supplanting or augmenting concertina or melodeon to distinctive effect.
As for the purely instrumental tracks, these arguably embody an even greater sense of discovery than the songs and certainly prove a wholly accessible diversion for the song specialist whose interests are so well accommodated elsewhere on the disc. Just over half of the tunes come from the recently discovered mid-19th-century manuscript book of the obscure William Clarke of Feltwell, Norfolk, and once again the duo’s abundantly imaginative approach to scoring, mood and dynamics pays handsome dividends for the listener (Anahata has even added smallpipes to his armoury for the delightfully animated Kempshot Hunt). Cold Fen gently captivates the listener at every turn, for Mary and Anahata audibly relish both the discovery and performance, and communication, of these songs and tunes.
David Kidman July 2009
The brothers’ unique sound marries their love of composers Lalo Schifrin, Ennio Morricone and David Axelrod with Latin, Indian and African percussion, acoustic and electric guitars, Hammond organ, piano and English folk fiddle. (Eclectic or wot?!... ) Fittingly, they themselves describe their latest aural feast as “a soundtrack to a film of your imagination”, and certainly its cinematic propensities, inclinations and ambience are both immediately apparent and expressively ear-catching. The brothers’ now-trademark adventurous globally-influenced crossover-roots grooves are much in evidence, but the difference this time is an increased prominence given to soulful vocal-based textures on much of the material, these involving either Bombay-born female vocalist Sandhya Sanjana or the brothers’ long-time associate Mick Humphrey. These contributions add a constantly delightful new dimension to the brothers’ good-naturedly cosmopolitan musical adventures, whether on the chillout cine-pop of Ghosts, the easy-lounge vibe of Shifting Sands or the more overt exoticism of Django’s Caravan. Dave and Keith augment their own consummate instrumental and arranging skills, guitars and percussion with funky and intelligent bass lines from Jim Lockey and Andy Seward and a return cameo from celebrated Magazine keyboardist Dave Formula. The brothers also call on English fiddlers Becki Driscoll and Nick Wyke, who turn in some fine solo passagework on the thigh-slapping Butlin’s Lederhosen Fancy and the genially folky-funk Empty Chair as well as being responsible for some commanding string arrangements, notably on the opener Tongues Of Fire (which shape-shifts most persuasively over the course of its seven-minute span from a gentle Latin lilt into a deliciously syncopated, relaxed reggae reel) and the more animated Goldbricking.
Every track brings fresh surprises to captivate the ear: perhaps most intriguing of all is the slinky Stepping On Shadows, where a compulsive fandango meets twang guitar with Eastern promise, while the spirit of Classical Gas meets 70s film scores on Same Sky, Different Planet. The whole record should be listened to on good-quality headphones in order to experience the full multiplex sonic effect, for it glistens with accomplishment and thoroughly (and unassumingly) captivates with its appealing and thoroughly natural eclecticism.
David Kidman July 2009
Following excellent reviews for her fourth (2006) solo record Catch Tomorrow, Dale Ann went on to win the 2007 & 2008 IBMA Female Vocalist Of The Year award, and has garnered further healthy endorsements from Alison Krauss and Ricky Skaggs along the way.
Following that successful album with Don’t Turn Your Back, Dale Ann presents another selection of songs that extends beyond the time-honoured bluegrass frontier into contemporary songwriting and gospel. This time though, it’s a selection determined more by a central theme, that of courage and how it gives hope and inspiration; Dale views it as “a dream album”, and it’s clear from her performances that these 12 songs mean a lot to her. There’s always a reason to give life’s highway one more chance, as the title track posits, and Dale Ann’s still-exceptional voice is loaded with the conviction that this is the absolute right course to follow. Dale Ann also demonstrates her persuasiveness with deep traditional material on the mountain ballad from her native Kentucky, Blue Eyed Boy. Of the more recent compositions, Al Anderson’s touching The Last Thing On My Mind (which Dale Ann discovered on a recording by Patty Loveless) is another wonderful disc highlight, and works well as a scene-setter for Fifty Miles Of Elbow Room, the Carter Family classic, here given a simple, straight-ahead bluegrass ensemble rendition. As is Christine McVie’s Over My Head, whereas a distinctly more high-octane bluegrass treatment is given to Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down and the driving narrative Ghost Bound Train, while the almost-traditional Heaven is given a heartfelt rendition with the help of some beautifully managed duet and harmony vocals from Jamie Dailey and Darrin Vincent. Louisa Branscomb’s Will I Be Good Enough?, which tellingly captures the awesomeness of parenthood, is a bit of a tearjerker but Dale Ann manages to rise above sentimentality here.
Finally, and leaving one of the best till last, Dale Ann’s own lovely composition Music City Queen makes a tender closer to the disc. I shouldn’t need to mention it, but once again Dale Ann’s blessed with a high-class dream-team of backing musicians, the core of which comprises Stuart Duncan, Tim Laughlin, Mike Bub and album producer Alison Brown (who judges exactly the right sound for Dale Ann’s music).
David Kidman July 2009
Ring The Bell marks a label change for the Brothers (after a series of four albums for Sugar Hill), but that aside it’s business as usual for Leigh and Eric Gibson, I’m pleased to report, on a batch of a dozen fine songs, just over half of which are compositions involving one or other or both of them. These tend to have that fresh-minted-but-comfortably-familiar feel about them: that air of the classic bluegrass song that you honestly think you’ve always known! Like the simple What Can I Do? and the nostalgic Farm Of Yesterday, the wistful Forever Has No End, the chugging That’s What I Get For Lovin’ You. Straightahead and supremely classy. And as for the covers, well what is it about Tom Petty lately? - for this is the second record from the latest Compass release sheets to include a bluegrass treatment of a Tom Petty song: here it’s Angel Dream.
Elsewhere, too, Leigh and Eric show commendable taste for unearthing and performing quality material that may have fallen by the wayside for no apparent reason: there’s a brace of Joe Newberry songs (Jericho and I Know Whose Tears), and the sturdy gospel-infused title cut (a memorable Chet O’Keeffe number). The Brothers enjoy their fuller band sound throughout this new record, but it’s never over-done or unduly cluttered, with clear, crisp textures and sensibly-judged, fully supportive accompaniments from trusty compadres Mike Barber (upright bass), Clayton Campbell (fiddles), Joe Walsh (mandolin) and Mike Witcher (resonator guitar) - most of whom have been on board with Leigh and Eric for more than a couple of years now, and who know just how to place their talents at the service of the songs and their message.
Joyful yet impeccable playing, superb singing and great harmonies, classy and uplifting songs – just like bluegrass was meant to sound – but these guys are something special even amongst a crowd of roughly comparable sibling-type acts. So if you haven’t got around to discovering Leigh and Eric, now’s the time to catch up, before they release yet another album!
David Kidman July 2009
The Oxford Fiddle Group actually consists of around twenty players, but they don’t all necessarily play fiddle all at once and/or all at the same time: one member plays double bass, while others play guitar, occasional keyboard or viola. Pedantry aside, the fiddle is king, and the massed consort of the OFG in full-fiddle-flight is a wondrous thing indeed. The convivial ensemble sound is amenable even to non-fiddle-buffs, I’d say: both genuinely stirring and warmly nostalgic, it’s been likened to that of an old-fashioned Scottish fiddle orchestra.
Beyond The Spires is the Group’s aptly-titled second CD, on which they branch out beyond the heritage of the dreaming spires of their native Oxford (whence still comes much of their inspiration, admittedly) into considerably more eclectic repertoire, even including three songs. But local connections are still explored, not least with an atmospheric new waltz tune (the disc’s title track) composed by Adrian Broadway, which nicely balances some interesting arrangements of old Oxford tunes (Old Tom, Molly Oxford, Christchurch Bells) elsewhere on the CD. Although one can admire the ensemble’s enterprise, however, and the players are obviously having a whale of a time (the standard of the playing also being excellent thoughout), there is a slight air of self-indulgence in the choice of material, as if they’re trying to prove a point with the inclusion of transatlantic fare.
Music For A Found Harmonium receives a predictably exhilarating rendition, and the set of north-eastern tunes (featuring a guest concertina duet) is pleasingly managed, but in truth I found the vocal items (Galway Girl, Sonny’s Dream, Jambalaya) quite lacklustre and little more than attempts at roughneck crowd-pleasing that don’t quite come off. A mixed bag then, but when at their peak of involvement in the material the Oxford Fiddle Group hold us in thrall.
David Kidman July 2009
Both of these talented youngsters are already well integrated into established (and respected) bands: Jamie with Kerfuffle, Katriona with Tiny Tin Lady. But they each have an extraordinary amount to offer outside of a band context, and their teaming-up as a duo has already proved a very wise move both artistically and in terms of greater recognition of their individual talents. They’ve been leaving audiences open-mouthed with their (genuinely) exciting and unassumingly confident displays of instrumental technique, as well as showcasing some outstanding original songs (both Kat and Jamie are also very capable songwriters, and really good singers to boot). They did release a taster-EP (A Game For Two) back in 2006, but Shadows And Half Light is their debut full-length offering. And it’s absolutely stunning.
Although their musical stance and general approach can be loosely described as acoustic-contemporary (as opposed to revivalist or traditional), they actually possess a very personal sound that totally belies the heard-it-all-before mundanity of that generic A-C tag. Jamie’s eerily delicate yet highly percussive “lap” guitar style is pretty much unique and just has to be seen to be believed (being almost as entertaining to watch as to hear!), and is strikingly complemented by Kat’s sensitive and intricate yet abundantly fiery fiddle playing; aptly, both of them provide an enviable degree of “shadows and half-light” in their musicianship, qualities which are reflected in the often murky preoccupations of their lyrics. Although they’re not exactly depressing, these creations tend to brood, to lurk within and just outside the borders of your consciousness, often compellingly so. Kat’s Hunter Man, the disc’s opener is a grim and atmospheric presence, in almost complete contrast to the really beautiful Susannah (which pays a certain amount of homage to Stephen Foster’s song of that name), while Travelling In Time is a moving and evidently deeply understanding portrait of a dementia sufferer. Jamie’s songs (of which there are five on the CD) tend to be more achingly personal, and the pained delicacy of Pleased To Meet You complements the awesomely familiar mental stasis of So Long and the perceptive philosophical conundrum of Stopped Clock. In all cases, the maturity and insightfulness of the writing is such that you marvel they can have been written by folks so young (and that’s not meant to sound patronising).
The songs are punctuated with three instrumental tracks, each a stunning display of showmanship and rhythmic and melodic virtuosity but also thoroughly musical, with titles that are almost onomatopoeic (Running With Scissors indeed – scary, well you see what I mean!). As well as the original songs and instrumentals, the disc contains just one trad-arr track, a dazzling, dashing arrangement of All Among The Barley, capped off with a zestful original jig – so let’s hear some more similarly innovative arrangements of traditional material on future albums. One final observation: Kat and Jamie are skilled multi-instrumentalists, and they use the studio environment to persuasively yet selectively augment their basic fiddle-and-acoustic-guitar armoury – to very good effect too, it turns out, with smidgens of mandolin, banjo, electric guitar, viola, trombone and cajon intelligently embellishing the texture at key points. A very small number of guest musicians are employed too (Jamie’s sister Kathryn on piano and vocals, Fyrish’s Marjorie Paterson on cello, Dom Howell on bodhrán and Jack Theedom on double bass), and the unobtrusive naturalness of their contributions speaks volumes about the integrity of the core duo.
This really is one of the freshest, strongest, most consistent and significantly impressive debut discs I’ve encountered in a long time: check out Kat and Jamie with due haste!
www.myspace.com/gilmoreroberts
David Kidman July 2009
Mr. Costello’s latest release is heavily rooted in acoustic Americana, and can be viewed as a sequel to 1986’s classic King Of America set, which was the first of EC’s (now three) records to be produced by T-Bone Burnett (the second being 1989’s markedly less interesting Spike). Unlike EC’s first foray into classic country territory, the slightly laboured Almost Blue, it shares with King Of America the T-Bone hallmark of making a virtue out of subtle colourings and an understatement which carries through into EC’s own vocal performance.
Recorded in just three days over in Nashville, Secret, Profane And Sugarcane conjures a wonderfully warm immediacy from its bare-bones rootsy late-40s-bluegrass/stringband-style settings, entirely acoustic and unamplified apart from some electric guitar from T-Bone himself on some of the tracks. The supporting musicians couldn’t have been better chosen: Jerry Douglas’ dobro provides the most telling signature, weaving brilliantly into, out of and around EC’s sinuous vocal lines, often in tandem with Stuart Duncan’s fiddle, while Dennis Crouch’s double bass provides unerring rhythmic input and Mike Compton’s mandolin and Jeff Taylor’s accordion counterpoint some songs with an appealing Cajun-country lilt and Jim Lauderdale’s vocal harmonies are well-judged throughout.
The title Secret, Profane And Sugarcane alludes in part to EC’s as yet unfinished chamber opera about the life of Hans Christian Andersen (The Secret Songs), from which stem four of the album’s thirteen songs (in fresh adaptations); these are intriguing and powerful creations indeed, all but one of these concerning the singer Jenny Lind (and her relationship with Andersen). The album’s longest track (by a short measure!), the lazy shuffling jugband-style Sulphur To Sugarcane, is one of two songs co-written with T-Bone, the second of which (The Crooked Line) features a typically sweet-toned vocal harmony added by Emmylou Harris to the song’s chorus. Several of the album’s songs were premièred by EC on his Bob Dylan Show appearances in late 2007; there are solid country connections elsewhere, for I Felt The Chill is a writing collaboration with Loretta Lynn, while two others (including the classy Hidden Shame) were originally written for Johnny Cash. Another satisfying revisit is Complicated Shadows (originally cut 13 years ago on All This Useless Beauty), now benefiting much from its bleaker setting. The tone of many of the new songs is tender and charming (the somewhat early-Dylan-flavoured I Dreamed Of My Old Lover), thoughtful and affectionate, gently ironic on occasion rather than sardonic – and in the end distinctly attractive; and it was a masterstroke to end the set with a cover of the waltz-time Changing Partners, a mid-50s hit for both Bing Crosby and Patti Page.
All told, this is a very fine set indeed, although as yet perhaps not quite as good as King Of America (but time will tell); at the same time, the diversity and disparity within the corpus of songs – a feature which might have counted against it – is given a stronger unity by the well-coordinated backdrops. And the vinyl (two-disc) edition of the album has two additional tracks (though I really can’t see why these couldn’t have been included on the 51-minute CD as there’s plenty of spare space).
David Kidman July 2009
The four key artists credited above are in effect the principal inheritors of the Chicago Blues tradition: the bridge between the originators of the genre (many of whom, interestingly, came not from Chicago but from Mississippi!) and today’s practitioners. Billy Boy Arnold’s own special claim to fame, it might be said, was with penning I Wish You Would, which in the version by the Yardbirds kick-started, nay catapulted, the British blues boom of the mid-60s.
On this lavishly presented double-disc (21-track, 74-minute) set they celebrate and pay tribute to the evolution of that particular genre from the start of the 1940s through to the present day, from the primitive to the electrically-influenced. Here we experience contemporary recreations of titles made famous by those termed the “sound innovators” of the Chicago Blues: the likes of Sonny Boy Williamson (both #1 and 2), Tampa Red, Memphis Slim, Howlin’ Wolf, Elmore James, Otis Rush, James Cotton, Junior Wells and Buddy Guy – and naturally, two tracks representing Muddy Waters (even though these aren’t quite the ones most obviously associated with Morganfield). Particular successes include Arnold’s take on Big Bill Broonzy’s Night Watchman Blues, a driving delivery of Big Maceo’s prime boogie-woogie Chicago Breakdown (courtesy of Johnny Iguana), Primer’s heavy-duty Jimmy Reed cover Can’t Stand To See You Go, Billy Flynn’s lively wah-wah take on Earl Hooker’s instrumental Hooking It, Carlos Johnson’s excellent guitar work on John Lee Hooker’s The Healer, and Branch’s spirited cover of Little Walter’s Hate To See You Go.
The slip-case’s accompanying 24-page booklet presents much useful biographical information and gives a reasoned perspective on the music included on (and excluded from) this project – for inevitably, it seizes the moment made possible by the availability of these particular artists and pays current tribute to the history-makers “in a musical voyage through the evolving Chicago sound” rather than attempting to provide a comprehensive history of the Chicago Blues as such. But in all honesty you can’t go wrong here, with all the contributions reeking of both absolute authenticity and respect (and not a trace of the unwelcome and sterile tribute-band, for, happily, no attempt is made to “ape” the original artists). It was an evident labour of love for all involved, and it comes excellently recorded too. The whole Living History Band will be touring their tribute during the summer months.
www.chicagobluesalivinghistory.com
David Kidman July 2009
Heather’s a Leeds-based singer with a pleasing and individual style of presentation, who also accompanies herself on guitar on two-thirds of the dozen songs on this, her debut CD; on the remaining four she takes the brave decision to perform acappella. Heather’s been performing these songs (and many more) live around Yorkshire’s folk clubs for a few years now, and has enthralled audiences into silent, rapt attention with her distinctive, soft-toned (and actually quite beautiful) singing voice and her considered interpretations of songs to which she clearly responds.
Heather’s careful in her choice of material, for she’s aware that her particular singing style and timbre (clear, pure, high-register, predominantly head-voice) doesn’t necessarily suit every kind of song (she does a particularly nice job on Karine Polwart covers, but there aren’t any on this disc!). To some listeners, Heather’s delivery may sometimes on first acquaintance appear a touch detached – removed from, or drained of, the relevant emotion when a more dramatic approach might be called for, but the good news is that there aren’t any disasters here, and she “gets away with it” on darker pieces such as The Three Ravens (an ethereal reading, with a suitably “antique” atmosphere conjured by Tim Knight’s piano accompaniment) and Cuchullan’s Lament, while The Unquiet Grave is one of three tracks that benefit further from Alison Battye’s accomplished and cultured flute accompaniment.
The acappella tracks, always a challenge for a singer to record, are better than respectable, although Heather would be the first to admit she betrays a touch of nervousness at times; of these, The Bonny Bonny Boy is probably the best, although her version of Black Is The Colour is refreshingly different from the one we usually hear. As for the remainder of the menu, Heather entices us almost innocently on Come My Little Roving Sailor and The Bird Song, but I Know Where I’m Going and Where My Caravan Has Rested (though idiomatically sung) will probably be too redolent of the parlour-room for some tastes. All in all, Heather has produced a modest, attractive, well-thought-out and persuasive calling-card.
www.myspace.com/heatherwoodheadmusic
David Kidman July 2009
Everyone knows Dave as writer of that exceptional opus The January Man, but he’s written many many more fine songs, and it’s always good to encounter a selection on CD. This well-filled new disc is a compilation bringing together all (I think!) of Dave’s railway-related songs, as previously issued on two separate LPs recorded 17 years apart.
A vital thing to note is that these songs are authentically driven, in that they’re clearly written by someone with both a practical working knowledge of railways (and the railway industry) and a genuine affection for railways and everything they represent, their role in society and their importance and relevance to humankind. Dave spent much of his early working life on the railways, as station porter then engine cleaner and fireman, leaving service in 1961 before the Beeching axe started to fall only a couple of years later.
Dave’s bleak view of the future of the railways was powerfully conveyed in the songs written for Requiem For Steam, the classic 1971 LP which (reproduced in its entirety) forms the bonus section of this new CD. These include laments for specific railways (Shut-down Of The Pinxton Line), reminiscences of the harshness of life as a railwayman (The Money Doesn’t Go Very Far), narratives based on real events (Pinwherry Dip, Turntable Song) and actual memories (The Day We Run Away) and an ode to the Black Five engine, all balanced by the music-hall humour of Father Doesn’t Fancy Work At All and the joke-tale (cod-shanty) Ivor The Driver. Dave and his guitar are accompanied at strategic points by Martin Carthy, Brian Cooper, Trevor Crozier and (spoons virtuoso) Maddy Prior, and this is a fine set that richly deserves this belated CD release.
The second of the two original LPs, 1988’s The Man Who Put The Engine In The Chip Shop, is placed first on this latest reissue; its material was written at a time when the railway scene had changed, with the advent of steam preservation societies and the like, and this mood of cautious optimism informs at least some of the material, albeit tempered with both a keen (and unsentimental) nostalgia and genuine heartfelt regret. Dave tellingly celebrates the great days of steam on The Settle & Carlisle and Race To The North, atmospherically depicts the bitter winter of 1947 on Snow Train, and examines the plight of the railwaymen who didn’t survive the Beeching-era changes in The Dinosaur The Railway Left Behind. In this latter connection, Dave displays his admiration of the art of fellow-songwriter Cyril Tawney by including Cyril’s masterly, elegiac In The Sidings Now; and it’s indicative of its supreme quality that the only other non-Goulder composition chosen for this LP is Stanley Accrington’s tender, poignant Last Train. There’s a touch of Jake Thackray about some of Dave’s songs too, I feel (that’s meant as a compliment), both in the slightly laconic manner of expression and the keen observation (as in vignettes like Station People), also in the rippling guitar backings. On the 1988 LP, the songs are interspersed with “actuality” sound recordings (mostly engines in action, and some railway environments) - steamy encounters of the closest kind, one might say!
This handsome reissue, presented and remastered to Fellside’s usual high standards, furnishes an ideal opportunity to catch up, both on the music as a social document and on some seriously good songwriting. For it’s not only the railway enthusiast who will be chuffed at seeing this release in the racks.
David Kidman July 2009
A couple of years ago, I reviewed The Story’s previous recording, Tale Spin, a creditable contemporary acid-folk release that owed much to classic early-70s practitioners of the genre Forest – not surprisingly, for The Story is Martin Welham (one member of Forest!) and his son Tom, who are audibly carrying on the tradition. Arcane Rising is a worthy sequel to Tale Spin, for it inhabits much the same English-pastoral-hippie landscape and shares the attractive quality of being partly improvised. Instruments used once again comprise a panoply of acoustic guitars, with melody harp, flutes, whistles, harmonica and percussion.
Compared to its predecessor, however, this new collection of songs from The Story is ostensibly more of a consciously realised song-cycle than a sequence of disparate songs. It proves a thornier nut to crack at times: the unity of sound-world and melodic approach is counterbalanced by a tendency towards a more episodic construction and shorter individual tracks; some of these are attractive enough taken as snapshots, vignettes or interludes, but not all of them prove as musically satisfying as the longer (standard-length) pieces. Most impressive of the latter are the ISB-like Flash Across The Sky and A Course Of Action, the busy Slipstreams, the rich invocation Precious One, and the impressionistic Winter Light. Taken together, the 16 songs of Arcane Rising make a gently inspirational whole, yet inexplicably I’ve a lingering feeling that the cycle isn’t quite complete and I’m definitely left wanting more. The recording quality and balance is authentic and clear-textured, with each instrumental colour precisely delineated.
The accompanying booklet is attractively designed, although for confusingly, for some unknown reason, many of the lyrics given under the individual song titles just don’t correspond to (and in some cases even omit completely) what you hear on the disc itself. But this is still a most charming release, which gains in stature on each new encounter.
David Kidman July 2009
The Paul McKenna Band is a fresh-sounding young outfit that has been in existence for three or four years now but only now has got round to releasing its debut CD, which no doubt will capitalise on its growing reputation and sparkling, engaging live act. In addition to singer/songwriter/guitarist Paul himself, the band consists of recent BBC Radio Scotland Young Traditional Musician Award finalist Ruairidh Macmillan (fiddle), Seán Gray (flute/whistle), David McNee (bouzouki) and Ewan Baird (bodhrán), and their trademark sound, robust and lively but not without its gentler overtones, is built around the simple yet warm combination of flute/whistle and fiddle sharing melody lines underpinned by driving guitar, bouzouki and bodhrán rhythms.
The disc’s two instrumental sets build up a fine head of steam without toppling over into manic mode. However, since the majority of the band’s repertoire is song-based, it’s doubly fortunate that Paul himself is a singer of no mean stature, with a clear-toned, hauntingly expressive voice that dovetails extremely well with the instrumental lines, both on his own compositions or on traditional material (much of the latter, ingeniously, being set to Paul’s own melodies). I’ll admit that on early playthroughs I found the aforementioned “trademark sound” a little too unvaried over the course of a whole album, with proven arrangements consistently applied throughout; at first, the band arguably scores more highly on the variety within the material. Paul’s own songs are pleasing and well-put-together, and while not always in the very top bracket as regards memorability they’re a harbinger of forthcoming potential. The title track reflects its name, straddling the contemporary and traditional worlds as regards the band’s approach to writing and performing, while Daylight is an attractive, considered reflection on life and the slightly enigmatic Dancing In The Dark has some of the pensive quality we associate with Dougie MacLean.
Generally, the covers are sensibly chosen to match Paul’s vocal strengths, although he tends sometimes to steer too accessible a middle course, allowing the rhythmic element to influence his phrasing rather than necessarily trusting his own response: the result being a certain degree of homogeneity between individual songs, an impression of over-similarity that doesn’t always fade with closer acquaintance with the internal subtleties of the settings. Minor points, however, when set against the promising nature of this debut release from this vibrant band.
David Kidman July 2009
If I branded this guy’s songs as classy, acceptable, smoothly and genially crafted, observant if romantically-inclined Nashville singer-songwriter fare in the approved tradition with no rough edges but equally nothing offensively sentimental, then that would probably be the review over and done with and I’d be able to move onto the next disc on the pile. But every now and again during this ten-track album I’m getting the vibe that there’s something else, a slightly deeper response that lifts the man’s music above the straight-down-the-line classic workmanlike. It helps that his backing band is so darned good, bringing an added level of subtlety to the already confident sophistication of the writing. Danny Parks (guitar), Jay Vernali (keyboards), Jon Vogt (bass) and Brian Burnett (drums) are augmented on some tracks by two cellists, with just the right amount of added light and shade, while the contributions of four backing vocalists (notably Jessi Colter Jennings on the album’s standout Sounds Like Life To Me) are very much in tune with Wyatt’s own relaxed and steadily assured tones.
You can tell from the man’s attitude and overall demeanour that he’s been around the scene a while, and his songs prove eminently coverable too (if perhaps sometimes a little too “where have I heard that before?”). At times I’m reminded of James Taylor, that comfortable fit of graciously flowing music and companionably thoughtful words that’s easy on the ear and thus needs to provide no challenge. It’s not really possible to find fault with Wyatt, as everything is in place that should be, and he strikes no false note within his chosen field, settling into a groove and sticking with it. And yet… he doesn’t quite make the big-time. And in spite of all his admirable qualities he doesn’t stand out from the crowd enough to get onto my must-spin-again-soon list – in other words, this river meanders amenably but goes nowhere in particular.
David Kidman July 2009
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