A to Z Album and Gig Reviews
Martin Carthy, Martin Simpson, Martin Taylor & Juan Martin - Martins 4 (P3 Music)
The four members of this grouping together cover the major part of the musical spectrum, and it shouldn't need to be said that each one's a highly individual guitar stylist, not only as a leading exponent of music in his particular idiom but also as a skilled instrumentalist per se. Stating the very obvious, Martin Carthy is to English traditional folk music what Martin Simpson is to the delta blues, Martin Taylor to jazz guitar and Juan Martin to flamenco. The rationale of this collaboration between them, and coincidentally its strength, lies in pointing up and exploring the connections between these musical genres. This CD presents excerpts from the collected Martins' touring show, recorded live in Glasgow (presumably some time last year). Fear not then, those of you who might think it's an excuse for an esoteric ego trip by four single-minded and self-absorbed musos; quite the contrary, it's an enticing and thoroughly accessible blending of their talents. You might, however, think it a bit naughty that out of the twelve tracks on the CD, there's only four where all four participants actually come together to lock horns or whatever; the remainder are personal showcases for the individuals (two apiece). But you can't argue that on every single selection the pure excitement generated by the playing is tangible - these musicians aren't mere technicians (a charge that's often unfairly levelled at the jazzers in particular), but exhibit their skills with an abundance of prime musicality.
The four cuts utilising the full "fearsome foursome" do provide most of the highlights of the set, with some superbly imaginative interplay on Glass Of Water and Vuelo in particular, and a wholly credible integration of ostensibly disparate elements like bluesy slide and percussive flamenco on the opening eight-minute La Pasion Del Lamento, but Juan's solo showpiece Evocacion – De Damascus A Cordoba is stunning on any level. Simpson's Jasper Songbird/Spoonful medley is a brilliantly evocative concoction, Taylor's African-inflected piece Kwame/Kiko glitters and sparkles with sprightly rhythmic complexity, and Carthy's Heather Down The Moor has an equally capricious spring in its step. What matter that most if not all of the solo pieces have appeared before on other CDs by these artists, for these new live renditions have a frisson all to themselves. I was going to say "even allowing for the absence of the visual dimension", but I notice an advert on the CD booklet for a DVD of the 4 Martins live at Glasgow's Royal Concert Hall – which may well be an extended edition of the CD I'm reviewing, and if so, then I guess it's another must-have, fine though this CD is.David Kidman
Notorious is the working "band name" for these two musicians when performing as a duo, and refers to their love for Hitchcock films, but in the end this too proves a bit of a MacGuffin, for their reputations by all accounts remain unsullied! Larry's name may be familiar to those readers who are enthusiasts of dance, for he's written over a thousand tunes (mainly fiddle tunes and waltzes) over the past 20+ years and regularly plays for contra, waltz, swing and Scottish dances. As instrumentalist, he's a skilled fingerstyle blues, ragtime and slide guitarist and banjo player; he's accompanied many notable fiddlers including Alasdair Fraser, Matt Glaser and Rodney Miller, and recorded with Ginny Snowe as well as the Reckless Ramblers. But his current musical partnership with Eden appears made in heaven. For Eden is a versatile young violin player from Texas who has her roots in classical music but is readily and eagerly branching out into traditional, oldtime, jazz-swing and world-folk. And she's not a bad singer either, making a fine fist of anything she tackles, from (Working On) The New Railroad (on which she also plays viola) to the old Andrews Sisters hit Bei Mir Bist Du Schön and the blues chestnut Sitting On Top Of The World (where she's ably backed by Larry's National Resonator guitar); what a shame she only gets three vocal outings on the disc! If performing with any lesser musician, Eden's fiery and florid violin pyrotechnics might well threaten to overwhelm the exciting guitar fretwork, but this never happens with Larry and Notorious. Sure, her playing's often somewhat technique-driven, but it always remains primarily musical in its focus and impact. I find the oldtime-flavoured numbers especially scintillating, in fact. Larry's proven compositional skills are spotlighted on around half of the album's tunes, whereas Eden's own compositions (on the evidence of The Watermill and the snappy Schottis Fran Palmer here) are equally inspired, and, like Larry's, authentically idiomatic rather than pastiche. Just occasionally there may be hints that Notorious are just a little restless in their wandersome eclecticism, but any such minor reservation need not concern the listener who's open-minded and keen to embrace a wide range of musical styles especially when they're so sparklingly and engagingly played as they are here.
www.larryunger.net
www.fiddlegarden.net
David Kidman November 2006
Hector, a direct descendant of famed 18th century fiddler Niel Gow, inherited Niel's "driven bow" technique: the distinctive up-stroke Scotch snap that gives the strathspey its unique flavour. Hector became a master fiddler himself, also a key practitioner of pipe music on the fiddle, and was regarded as the greatest of his generation by fine players like Willie Hunter; by the time of his death in 1980, he was already a legend.
Classically trained, Hector brought to traditional Scots fiddle music a refined and beautiful tone that set a new, more polished standard of playing for that repertoire, while assimilating and carrying forward the Aberdeenshire style with true feeling into an approach that set the benchmark for Scottish fiddle playing for decades to come. Indeed, during the radio era, was to many (including violin virtuoso Yehudi Menuhin) "the voice of Scotland".
The most frequently heard recordings of Scottish fiddle music were of Hector accompanied by his nephew Sandy Edmonstone on the piano, and the recordings on this new disc, made almost 60 years ago in Hector's home (and never intended for public release), are very much typical. Wonderfully relaxed and at-home in both senses of the term, with enough of a spontaneous edge to complement and draw out the intrinsically lyrical quality of the playing and convey both Hector's tremendous response to the music and his convivial fireside manner. Although the strathspey was to Hector the soul of Scottish fiddling, and makes up the lion's share of the music on this disc, with acknowledged genre classics by J. Scott Skinner and Nathaniel Gow inevitably forming cornerstones of his repertoire, here he also performs examples of other musical forms which he interpreted so keenly – for example three Niel Gow pieces (two Laments and a Favourite) and the florid air Auld Robin Gray.
The depth of expression Hector achieves in these performances is miraculous - he truly has the soul of his chosen instrument. When you consider the unbelievable fact that it's currently virtually impossible to obtain any recordings of Hector's playing, this new Greentrax release (splendidly mastered too, by the way) is doubly valuable for anyone who seriously appreciates the real thing in traditional Scots fiddle music.
David Kidman January 2010
Accordionist Mick and fiddler Winifred comprise two-fifths of the dynamic Irish-American band Solas, and here they present a duo album with a difference: emphatically not a disc stuffed full of esoteric twiddly tune-set duets, but instead a mellower, more well-rounded selection that includes a handful of songs amongst the instrumental tracks. Even the latter, though in the majority, are sufficiently lively without being over-showy, and are blessed with interesting arrangements and an admirably clean recording – and superbly solid support from former Solas man Dónal Clancy on guitars and Chico Huff on bass. Multitracking is used creatively, so that Mick gets the chance to accompany his accordion on whistles, keyboards and bodhrán, and Winifred can treat herself to a mini-string section when she feels like it, and even croons along in harmony alongside the melody line (as on the Ballygar Jigs set, track 4). These unusual features give the album its distinctive palette, and while I accept that they won't necessarily be to the taste of yer average lover of purely instrumental virtuoso albums, there's a lot that's appealing about the duo's approach to texture, an elegance and refinement that approaches classicism at times. The individual tracks are well named too: for instance, the Joyous Waltz is just that, with some lovely colourings, and the Peerless Hornpipes set swings like nobody's business. There's sweet, gentle beauty in the title track, although this continuity of mood is milked just a tad too much on Winifred's two rather similar compositions (Little Mona Lisa and A Daisy In December), I feel. But if you still want the old-fashioned empathic virtuosity, the stirring unison playing, well the opening Jug Of Punch set of reels provides that in profusion - what a team! - and The Chorus Reels are suitably fiery too. As for the choice of songs, well Adieu Sweet Lovely Nancy gets a fairly languid reading from Mick, in a singing style which to my mind doesn't really get to the heart of the song's plangency, whereas I quite liked his understated approach to After The Gold Rush (where the emotional thrust is carried more in the instrumental accompaniment), although it misses the original's sense of desperation. The closing track's a simple, tender version of Dylan's To Make You Feel My Love. As a whole, then, it's a disc of mixed fortunes, but its highlights are certainly scintillating.
www.solasmusic.com
www.compassrecords.com
David Kidman, July 2006
Best known as a member of that supremely vital young Irish band Danú, Oisín is also fast gaining the status of one of the finest fiddle players of the new generation, and this, his debut solo album, will definitely cement that reputation. Although, having undergone stints in the fields of classical, bluegrass and newgrass over the years, Oisín feels at home with many musical styles, it's the traditional fiddling style of his native Donegal which inspires and informs his playing more than anything else and is necessarily to the fore on this record (note the double-edge of its title!)… well, at least for much of its length, and undoubtedly providing the majority of the disc's highlights. Oisín has a really impressive strength of rhythmic control in his playing, and his nifty fingerwork never sounds rushed. Technical considerations aside, the spirit of the experimentalism of famed fiddler John Doherty pervades Oisín's own playing too, not least in the way he mixes up different types of tunes within the sets, where he creatively intersperses pieces from the traditions with his own compositions and those of his contemporaries. The opening set of Quebec reels is breathtaking, with some fine guitar accompaniment from Shane McGowan (who plays on just over half of the tracks), and the ensuing set of jigs (the first of the disc's two fabulous, contrasted duets with Ronan Browne's uillean pipes, the other being an epic treatment of the celebrated air King Of The Fairies) is exceptionally well handled, after which there's a really sparkling set mixing barn dance and reels. I don't feel quite so enamoured of some of the later tracks in the eclectic sequence, like the curious set of tunes from the musical theatre (track 7), and there are a couple of pleasant jazzy-newgrass pieces like Oisín's own affectionate portrait Tune For Gillian which (lovely though they are) don't quite fit here I feel. But when Oisín gets back into gear with The Capelhouse/Molloy's jig-set (with Peter Molloy on flute) and the sprightly Scott Skinner variant of Moneymusk, all's well with the world again. I also liked Oisín's take on a pair of tunes by Breton guitarist Gille Le Bigot (with admirable supporting playing from guitarist Tony Byrne and cellist Aongus McAuley), and the set of jigs featuring Peter Browne on button accordion (track 6); and Oisín plays guitar himself on a handful of tracks including the finely-moulded Lover's Ghost air. All told, this is a persuasive solo debut for Oisín, a very good showcase for his exceptional instrumental and arranging skills.
David Kidman April 2007
Following on from Dolly Parton's disappointing set of mildly bluegrassed 60s/70s covers on Those Were The Days (though still worth it to hear her duetting with the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens on Where Do The Children Play), here's another country icon, from a rather younger generation, paying tribute to the songs that went before, including some like Satin Sheets that she used to sing when she was just seven working in her dad's band.
McBride's produced the album herself, insisting on keeping with the nostalgia programme by using only vintage microphones and instruments and recording her vocals live with a small backing band, steel player Paul Franklin well in evidence. Dwight Yoakam stopped by too to add vocals to Harlan Howard's Heartaches By The Number.
Her twangy voice does full justice to the material she's selected while the arrangements remain faithful to, if not the original versions then at least the best known ones. Hence Don Gibson's I Can't Stop Loving You recalls the Ray Charles classic (its Charles's spirit on Take These Chains From My Heart too) while Help Me Make It Through The Night salutes Kristofferson but also the hit recording of Sammi Smith.
With bonus tracks for the UK release, there's 22 jewels from country's crown here, ranging from the C&W retro diamond You Win Again through a gorgeous string backed True Love Ways and Eddy Arnold's Make The World Go Away to Walk On By, Lynn Anderson chestnut Rose Garden and Loretta Lynn's You Ain't Woman Enough.
There's not a duff choice to be found, which makes picking favourites difficult but if push comes to shove then I'd have to nominate its triple punch of tear stained honky tonk ballads Today I Started Loving You Again (another nod to Sammi Smith), Tammy Wynette's 'til I Can Make It On My Own and the duet with Parton on Johnny Cash's I Still Miss Someone. But whatever selection you punch up, this almost as good as listening to the real things.
Mike Davies, April 2006
Mary McBride - By Any Other Name (Reality Entertainment)
Out of Brooklyn by way of Louisiana, actress-playwright-singer-songwriter McBride (her stepbrother's Edward Norton) walks a raunchy, self-assured walk, her twang sassy vocal and rock n rolling approach to her country (Weathervane's intro hints at Creedence while I Got Everything positively boogies) ensuring the album motors along with spark and swagger to complement the pain and passion in her voice and her saltily defiant songs.
She's well served by her collaborators too. Three songs (the guitar ringing title track included) are co-writes with Steve Wynn while elsewhere Georgia Satellites man Dan Baird joins forces for a piano pumping Coming Up Empty and the warbling moody (imagine Dolly if she was Lucinda) storytelling Toll Girl, the pair of them also providing the album's two covers with Wynn's Stones gone Texas strut One-Eyed Dog and Baird's bluesy gospel Bottle & Bible.
And if she tends to favour the whisky n demin honky tonk belters, the gorgeously sad Semi-Star and Black-Eyed Strays amply demonstrate, her well weathered heart handles the quieter aches with panache too. Definitely an album for anyone whose wheels travel Lucinda's gravel road, and besides how can you not admire someone who. On That Was Then, can get a way with the line 'you walked a million miles and you blew a million kisses, you gave a million hugs, I said I'd be your missus'.
Mike Davies
For the past 44 years, there has been a group called "The McCalmans", an entity that has made 26 albums and been at the forefront of performing contemporary and traditional Scottish folk music throughout that time. The group has undergone surprisingly few lineup changes over the years, and the various members have continued to provide solid and reliable service at their many live gigs, always guaranteeing a great night's entertainment full of fine music and infamous, surreal patter.
Mindful of the impending scheduled retirement of founder member Ian McCalman in less than two years' time, the band recently decided that a live format would be the ideal memento should this come to be their final album release. Hence Live: Coming Home, which collects together recordings from the group's tours in Scotland and Denmark in a variety of venues. It concentrates on the music (45 glorious minutes and 14 songs), which is fine as far as I'm concerned but may not entirely please those who want a true memento of the band; but the band are at the top of their game and the selection of material typically wide-ranging, touching the heartstrings one moment and causing loud laughter the next. Aside from the traditional Ye Jacobites By Name (which the group originally recorded in the mid-60s!) and Only Remembered (which they recently recorded for the Greentrax Ypres set), the remainder of the set consists of original compositions. Nick Keir's poignant Corryvreckan Calling and Portnahaven, Lex Hall's No More Sailing (recorded in Arisaig, close by Morar where it's based) and Martin Harbourne's Five O'Clock In The Morning provide set highlights, while Ian's own fine songs form a backbone of the collection, with The Moor Road, When The Risk Of Frost Is Over and Victory Parade contrasting with his tongue-in-cheek Staggering Home and the hilarious Let's Recycle (a canny rewrite of a Midlothian Council instruction booklet). At the opposite extremes of the emotional spectrum, the group also performs covers of Stan Rogers' North West Passage (sadly incomplete) and Shel Silverstein's gleefully satirical Still Gonna Die (which of course he did!). In all, a thoroughly entertaining set replete with typically engaging and impeccable musicianship and characterful individual and close-harmony singing.
In all cases the assembled audiences are heard enthusiastically participating in the songs, giving the recordings exactly the sense of occasion and unbridled rousing infectiousness that marks a McCalmans show – and most of the lyrics are provided in the booklet for us all to join in with the audiendces! Populist, yes, but still irresistible – and perfectly captured here.
David Kidman June 2009
Dave McCann and the Ten Toed Frogs - Country Medicine (Own Label)
It's not that Canadian Dave McCann doesn't care about his music, every note, melody and lyric on this album screams otherwise. It's just that he comes across as the kind of man who doesn't compromise a whole lot. He makes his music and you can take it or leave it, mind you you'd be a fool to leave it. With a little tweaking and a little dumbing down, several of the tracks on Country Medicine would fit easily into the repertoire of any of the 'Shanias' of this world and guarantee a life of luxury for McCann into the bargain. Believe me he's a writer who knows how to put words and music together in a very entertaining way.
His 'problem' is that he demands so much more of his songs than they are just pleasing on the ear. You can smell the woodsmoke and fresh air on Country Medicine. It's not a 'raw' album as such but it is firmly rooted in real life. When he sings Leaving This Town there is absolutely no doubt that he has suffered the pain.
McCann has discovered the perfect blend on Country Medicine. Depending on your starting point, it's rock influenced country or vice versa. Brokenwing Bird is the kind of band track that is instantly a fans' favourite, while Joe's Bones has a solitary darkness that makes it unforgettable.
The effect of the album is a cumulative one, each track adds something a little different to the experience. None overshadows the other and certainly none are superfluous.
If there are standout tracks then it is comes down to personal choice. For me Sleeping With Ghosts is as close to the complete 'Americana' track as you can get, driving hard but full of honest feeling. Cocaine Stole is a runaway train of a song and to round things off there is an affectionate cover of Jethro Tull's Locomotive Breath. You're never going to get consensus about songs as good as this.
There's even the added bonus of an unlisted song at the end. It still mystifies me why they do that. Why not credit the track and make it 13 great songs instead of 12? It can't be superstition can it? Now that would be ironic because the one thing Country Medicine will not rely on is luck. In the midst of all this wonderful country rock, it would be too easy to overlook the contribution of the exotically named Ten Toed Frogs. To say that they aid and abet McCann in his envdeavours would be to suggest a supporting role. Forget it, Dave Bauer, Mel Smith, Sandy Switzer, Danny Patton, Ross Watson, Jake Peters, Jenny Allen and Gary Kurtz are the reason that Country Medicine is as good as it is.
There may seem to be a cast of thousands but their contribution is vital to an album that is the perfect antidote to the plastic world in which most of us live.
Michael Mee
Debby's latest release is a delicious compendium based round a theme that's been close to her heart for many, many years. Subtitled The Legacy Of Charlie Poole, this lovely collection centres round a clutch of (nine) songs that Charlie and his North Carolina Ramblers popularised in the late 20s, supplementing these with other songs from that era. The latter category brings together material that might well have been important to Charlie: songs of mill-workers, vaudeville and traditional jazz pieces not covered by him, and also a mountain ballad possibly sung at his time. Fittingly, Debby can be seen as a true heir to Charlie's legacy, for, like Charlie and his Ramblers, Debby takes all these (seemingly disparate) types of material and presents them in what's very much an old-time mountain style, principally to the accompaniment of her own banjo and/or guitar (and here, on a small handful of tracks, the harmonica of our old buddy Dave Peabody). And remember that Charlie's Ramblers were originally mill-workers from what is now Eden, North Carolina, and so no doubt they would have known and appreciated the Dixon Brothers' Weave Room Blues, which Debby covers on this CD (the opening snatch of melody of which rather intriguingly bears exceeding-close resemblance to D-Day Dodgers!). But as I said at the outset, although it's the songs associated with Charlie himself that form the heart of this collection, Debby has managed to achieve a striking and satisfying sense of unity by dint of her deeply affectionate and genuinely loving interpretations of the material, characterised by an intensity of commitment and true respect both for her sources and her audience. Some of the choices (eg Vandy Vandy, Carolina Mountain Home and Sail Away Ladies) have been in Debby's live repertoire for some considerable time, yet she clearly never grows tired of singing them, for there's a wonderful quality of freshness to these new recordings. Several of the uptempo songs (like Chesapeake Bay, Leaving Home and It's Movin' Day) are delectable creations, with quite fiendish choruses that tax the memory but in an insidiously catchy manner, and Debby conveys their essence with gusto (just you catch that wickedly gleeful chuckle in her voice on You Ain't Talking To Me!). However, it's clear too that Debby relishes singing these every bit as much as she does the more poignant items such as The Letter That Never Came, where she expresses the requisite emotions so very naturally and tellingly; Debby's unaccompanied rendition of Sweet Sunny South is another highlight of the CD, extremely moving. Having concentrated thus far on the songs and Debby's singing of them, I mustn't neglect to stress also that Debby's banjo frailing is, as ever, exemplary, and its contribution to the appeal (and authenticity) of the whole album should not be underestimated. This is a totally charming and self-recommending release.
David Kidman, June 2006
Debby McClatchy - Chestnut Ridge (Trail's End)
www.debbymcclatchy.com
www.emergingmusic.co.uk
David Kidman
The spirit of Patsy Cline hovers over the opening A Girl Can Dream and the torchy Cry On My Shoulder with its upright bass, while Victoria Day (May Flowers) is vintage Carl Perkins rock n roll swing, I Blame You posits the cowgirl side of Doris Day and When The Lights Went Off In Hogtown takes a sultry jelly roll stroll through Dixieland in a playful account of the 2003 Toronto blackout.
It's not all old school hayrides, Glenrio drives along on a clanky rhythm that evokes the industrial stomp of Tom Waits (who surely also informs God Loves Me) while Money Shot's a twangy reverb guitar blues and Victoria Day (April Showers) is full of fat horns.
But it's the more laid back retro moods that provide the album's backbone and such memorable moments as the strings laced piano ballad Segovia (a song that bizarrely reminds me of I Don't Want To Play In Your Yard) and the gentle swaying Seasoned Lovers where Ron Sexsmith stops by to offer duet vocals. Switching musical moods and personas to suit the stories she tells while remaining firmly focused, her timeless vocals always relaxed and assured, like the holiday after which it's named, this is cause for celebration.
Mike Davies June 2009
In the 1980's, I had a few weeks in Dallas which has been part of the Texan stamping ground of Delbert McClinton for many a year. Even back then, it seemed like he'd been around forever. If my memory serves me right, he opened up for The Stones as well as playing every beer joint in the state. Though the picture in the sleeve notes is a bit of a pose with Delbert in the centre of a group photo that includes Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Guy Clark, Butch Hancock, Jimmie Dale Gilmore and other luminaries, it shows his place in Texan folklore is established.
It is great to report that his new release, Room To Breathe, has him sounding fresh as a daisy. As the opening Same Kind Of Crazy cranks up, you know that this is a bunch of musicians honed to perfection on a live circuit. As well as the up beat stuff, they can take it down low with the smouldering funk and tasty brass section of Jungle Room. The Rub with its cheesy organ, horns, southern soul and wit to boot is worth the price of entrance alone.
Mind you, it's not all Lone Star magic. For example, I struggle with a track like Blues About You Baby as it sounds too derivative for me – the Texan answer to Status Quo. Nevertheless, there is enough here to warrant your attention if you've not heard of him before. A set of good McClinton compositions and a production that captures the frisson of a live show makes a good memento of the man and his music.
Steve Henderson
The golden-voiced Maranna, who lives in Co. Derry (Dungiven), is already a veteran fleadh singing champion and recipient of the www.LiveIreland.com Vocal Album Of The Year Award: some credentials, and well deserved by all accounts. Her latest album, At Last, marks an exciting new development in her career by showcasing four of her own compositions: these are mostly inspired by her personal observations of life, ancient legends and her own spiritual beliefs, yet they're expressed in an accessible and non-exclusive language and as a bonus couched in a musically eminently radio-friendly language; Fraser Island is particularly beguiling, I find. The originals sit well alongside Maranna's lithe, appealingly contoured treatments of traditional songs, which not only fully reflect the singer's effervescent personality but also accord ideally with the musical settings. These are formed out of genial acoustic-based arrangements and centred around Brian Baynes' crisp yet full-toned production, with his own guitar and mandolin and Eric Rigler's uilleann pipes and whistles well to the fore, and set the seal on a decidedly attractive set. I do however find that due to the slightly over-poppy nature of a few of the settings (where Gerard Nolan's saxophone is to the fore and a more insistent backbeat is employed), much of the record leaves a niggling impression of insubstantiality. It's only 36 minutes long in total, and its ten tracks breeze by and leave little permanent mark beyond a feeling of a wholly pleasing half-hour spent in convivial company. Nothing wrong with that at all, but I still feel there should have been more to it somehow.
www.marannamccloskey.com
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman April 2009
This album is classic in both senses - for it's a classic recording of some classic traditional folk ballads. First issued in 1961, it became a seminal part of folks' collections in no time at all, and it was here that many 60s folk revivalists first heard these songs in any form. Think of the performances herein as templates, source recordings if you like, from which (no doubt) folks like Pentangle got I Loved A Lass and Sandy Denny got Banks Of The Nile. Done to a simple guitar and/or banjo accompaniment, these recordings might now be termed a tad primitive, but such is the sincere and wholly authoritative power of the singers' interpretations that little else matters, for they are "doing their job" - ie. actually communicating the songs, their essence and their story. More than that, actually, as you'll hear. (Of course, there were eyebrows raised at first at the idea of Peggy and her Appalachian-style banjo tackling some of the Scots ballads, but remember the British roots of these songs stretched far and wide into the States. ) As well as the noted tales of love lost and won, including some prime examples from the Child collection (The Gardener Chyld, Hughie Grame, The Elfin Knight), many incorporating a supernatural theme, there's some lesser-known Scottish folk poetry too; and it's not all gloom, doom and murder by any means, as the deliciously ribald The Maid Gaed To The Hill, the bothy song The Monymusk Lads and the spirited Jacobite song Aikendrum all demonstrate. These performances really do stand the test of time, and how! For the overwhelmingly confident and convincing interpretations work to provide a riveting listen that's rarely matched in modern reinterpretations of the material. Ewan's authentic delivery in the natural dialect is well complemented by Peggy's lovely harmony singing, although his voice spinetinglingly commands your attention on its own at all times. The presentation of this reissue is exemplary too, with the extensive original liner notes printed in full within the booklet and original cover art faithfully reproduced too. Don't hesitate to get this splendid reissue in your collection, it really is one of the finest examples of its kind.
David Kidman January 2007
This disc is a straightforward reissue of a late-50s album that is at once a classic and a curiosity. It's a classic because it presents two of the greatest interpreters of folksong in their prime, on fine form singing a collection of songs and shanties from the maritime tradition, whereas it's a curiosity because it presents the pieces in a style of interpretation which – at any rate in the maritime repertoire - has by now to a large extent passed out of performance tradition (what we nowadays get is mostly polarised between on one hand the intentionally authentic rendition and on the other hand the bland "tourist" version). What is important to realise it that on this disc Ewan and Bert brought to the attention of general folk music enthusiasts a whole sub-genre of song which had not previously had wide currency outside of the maritime specialist coterie. Ewan's erudite liner note, which is reproduced in full here, explains and details the various types of song included here - principally shanties and forebitters - and the recordings include an almost equal quotient of each. Generally speaking, the shanties are performed acappella, and at a credible speed (and in a rough-and-tumble manner) that conforms to their function as worksongs; these may sound primitive, but that's absolutely as it should be - no sanitised jolly-mariners renditions here! The forebitters (songs sung by sailors "to embellish their leisure time"), which include variants of broadside ballads on seafaring subjects, love and romance, are performed with a modicum of instrumental accompaniment - here courtesy of Alf Edwards (concertina), Ralph Rinzler (mandolin, guitar and banjo) and the trusty Steve Benbow (guitar). Any occasional stiltedness is more than compensated for by the authoritative nature of the singing. The CD transfer is mostly excellent, although I did note some tape-flutter on Do Me Ama. For those who only know the likes of South Australia and Whup Jamboree from the rather "safe" pub-singalong Spinners versions, going back to these lustier, rougher renditions will be a breath of fresh sea-air. Another important reissue.
David Kidman January 2007
Since winning the 2005 BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Award, fiddler Lauren has recorded two CDs under her own name: 2007's When Leaves Fall and now an even finer new one, Strewn With Ribbons. On both albums, her extraordinary talents have been placed in the context of a trio lineup, aptly named The MacCollective, comprising a guitarist (Barry Reid from Croft No. 5) and a pianist (on Strewn it's Mhairi Hall, who's lately replaced James Ross).
Strewn With Ribbons is arguably an even more classy product than its predecessor, and proves even more conclusively Lauren's flair for unearthing and creatively adapting tunes from old manuscripts (here the collections of William Christie, Donald Grant, Charles Grant and William Morrison). On this new album in particular, Lauren is shown to have a special gift for exploring the gentler and more reflective side of the repertoire, with some extremely attractive performances of slow airs figuring large here. Several of these quickly count as album highlights, from the gorgeous opening, a transcription of the song Oigfhear A Chuil Duinn, and the more thickly scored 'S Trom Trom A Tha Mi (with guest Su-A Lee providing an elegant and luxurious cello line) to the endearing portrait of Honesty (one of five of Lauren's own compositions on the disc). But the pair of laments is if anything even more striking: the intense, spectral timbre of the Lament For Mr. Thomas Grant Of Glen Elgin contrasting with the haunting closing Lament For The Death Of Hugh Allan, which Lauren plays entirely solo.
When in company, Lauren's superbly lyrical playing is inevitably placed right at the centre of the sound-picture, but her sensitivity of attack and her genuine skill in dynamic shading ensures that the melodies breathe and flourish and her technique, though still remarkable, remains admirably unobtrusive. On the faster selections, Lauren's vibrant playing is marked by her constant refusal to resort to heavy-handedness or hammer the rhythms home even when a buildup of tempo is called for: there's a wonderfully playful touch, a commendable lightness in her bold syncopations, which her fellow-musicians are able to relish along with her. The set of reels from the Donald Grant collections (placed midway through the disc) is a case in point, while the typically snappy strathspey-led set (track 2, which also includes two of Lauren's own tunes) and the Happy Hours reel-medley (on which Lauren enjoys sparring with guest Donald Shaw's accordion) are both well nigh irresistible too.
Lauren's sense of adventure when adapting tunes from published collections is evidenced with her decision to treat The Banks Of The Deveron slowly and delicately here, having previously recorded a fast-paced version with flautist Calum Stewart and Andy May (check out Calum's Earlywood album, reviewed here a few months back). Producer Chris Stout (who also guests on viola) knows exactly how Lauren should sound, and he's achieved a faithful and highly persuasive representation of Lauren's artistry, her winning combination of elegance, strength and vigour.
David Kidman July 2009
Brought up in the Black Isle, leading young fiddle player Lauren won the BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Award in 2004/5; she went on to study at the RSAMD, then played with the band Dochas, but more recently has built up a good live reputation in appearances with her own trio lineup (in which she's joined by guitarist Barry Reid and pianist James Ross), most notably from all accounts at this year's Celtic Connections. She was granted a Dewar Arts Award to fund the recording of her debut CD, and now here's the result at long last: producer Chris Stout (of Fiddlers' Bid) has ensured that it's both an accurate portrait and a persuasive showcase for Lauren's spellbinding technique and winning musical personality. Lauren coaxes a sweet and lyrical tone from her fiddle, yet there's also a gritty burr to her rhythmic input and a keen sense of playful syncopation. She gets ample opportunity to demonstrate all these qualities on the CD, which moves through a well-contrasted selection of tune-sets interspersed with the occasional slow air; and like an increasing number of young fiddlers, she's heard to derive much inspiration from the pipe tune repertoire. Angus MacDonald's 9/8 pipe march Tianavaig sets the pace, Lauren giving this an unhurried rendition with jerky Scotch snaps that become progressively more urgent before the faster strathspey snaps in to introduce the final reel. Lauren's grasp of contrasting rhythms is very sure, and the irregular metrical feet of Lochaber Dance don't trip her bow! The disc's three individual slow airs are most beautifully played, and Allan MacDonald's tune The Seventh Wave forms a fitting farewell, but The Earl Of Jura (learnt from the singing of Mary Ann Kennedy) has a really special quality of starkness, an intensity that I find extra-beguiling. As well as a host of traditional pieces and some by James Scott Skinner (the track 7 set) Lauren also performs a handful of her own compositions, of which the delightfully evocative title track and its companion piece (dedicated to box player Mairearad Green) are highlights - but then the jig inspired by Inverness fiddler Graham Mackenzie is a particularly nifty essay too. I really love Lauren's style (graceful and uplifting), and I strongly admire her musicality, her gift for controlled phrasing and her innate sense of just how to sequence different tempos to form a credible set. The support she gains from Barry and James (as well as guest button-accordionist Luke Daniels on three of the album's eleven tracks) is both skilled and unobtrusive, always sympathetically contoured to enable Lauren to give of her best. Lauren has clearly landed on her feet here, and this sparkling debut disc should win her many friends.
David Kidman June 2007
There's an artless charm to McCombs' songwriting that carries over into his singing, the musicianship of his excellent band, and the invisible yet somehow perfect production. Influences ranging from Donovan to Tim Hardin and Neil Young are vaguely discernible, yet there's also a powerful individual presence, one which is both dreamlike and incredibly focused. Who else could create such unsettling beauty from a string of platitudes about job satisfaction, as Cass McCombs does on 'The Executioner's Song'? Who would have a rhythm section play machine-like grooves that are almost Krautrock in execution, and overlay them with the loveliest pedal steel solos you are ever likely to hear?
Cass McCombs' previous album Dropping The Writ had many great moments. What's special about Catacombs is the addition of that elusive something that makes a collection of unrelated songs into a satisfying whole, the pursuit of a unique internal logic to a beautiful conclusion. This is the sound of potential being realised - and how.
Sam Inglis, Features Editor, Sound On Sound magazine, June 2009
This fabulous musician just gets better and better it seems - and every record he makes represents a significant step forward in at least one aspect. But Tommy On Song, a natural followup to Tommy On The Bridge, both chooses to emphasise how great a singer Tom is (in addition to his proven fiddle skills), and highlights just how much Tom's past couple of years playing and touring with those vibrant and immensely gifted young musicians Claire Mann and Aaron Jones has galvanised his already fertile musical imagination onto a higher plane. So how could they not appear on Tom's latest solo album? - and a tremendous contribution they make too, providing so much in the way of unassumingly inventive detail, paying such careful attention to integrating dynamics and responsiveness within the overall texture. And once again, how abundantly well Tom's chosen sound engineer Ron Angus has captured the musical personalities of all the participants and the special nuances they bring to their playing.
The usual hallmarks of Tom's own music-making are present too in all their glory: the deeply expressive bowing, just like another human voice in its telling contours when it ventures its gorgeous swooping harmonies in counterpoint with his singing, as here on Phil Ochs' When I'm Gone (set aside yer average, decidedly flat cover, this one really penetrates its inspirational core). Now however well I think I have the measure of Tom, there are almost always surprises in store within his choice of songs on each new CD, and this set proves no exception. It opens in splendidly energetic mode with a robust and exhilarating portrayal of the itinerant Geordie working man (Mark Knopfler's Why Aye, Man) that's so exuberant I kept expecting it to break into Rawhide! This highlights an interesting development in Tom's singing since his last CD (or maybe it's just the choice of songs?), whereby his vocal delivery seems altogether tougher and more forthright and instead of concentrating on maintaining an even, keening flow of melody line he now also at times employs some more exaggerated gestures, often semi-spoken, for expressive effect. This shift continues through the new CD, more noticeable on the racier songs like Jez Lowe's The Net Me Father Left Me. But there are key moments of lyricism and resilience-in-repose too, with Kieran Halpin's fine Azalea and the rarely-heard, intensely beautiful Allan Taylor song Firefly. And I need to credit some lovely harmony vocal contributions (on several tracks), courtesy of Sally Johnson as well as Claire and Aaron.
No CD of Tom's would be complete without a scattering of instrumental tracks, and here we can marvel at the freewheeling flamboyance Tom brings to the Gateshead Hornpipe, a tune he's known forever and knows just what he can do with in the space of a mere couple of minutes - and yet the spontaneity he conveys is miraculous. As is the delightful little cajun-style waltz Tom wrote for the grandson of his violin-maker, the late Mick Johnson. And again, Tom's facility of combining songs with appropriate tunes works wonders elsewhere: reminiscences of session tunes are woven through his fitting rendition of All The Tunes In The World, then he reaches a zenith on the disc's finale, where he so captivatingly caps Archie Fisher's poignant and knowing Fiddle Farewell with a memorial tune by Jerry Holland (although I do hope that this song, with its heavenly choir of fiddle tones, isn't to be taken literally, in the sense of signalling that Tom's ready to hang up his bow and retire his fiddle in its case). I suspect there'll be ne'er a dry eye in the house at the close of this disc. Jeez, man, it's good. No - seriously sublime.
David Kidman August 2008
This release begins deceptively simply, with Alyth's spine-tingling, beautifully fragile unaccompanied vocal breathing life into the traditional Gaelic song MhicShiridh; thereafter, a further eleven songs are given a more ambitious treatment by producer Jim Sutherland which encompasses some particularly cool instrumental work and on some tracks a greater degree of programmed percussion; this does not swamp the singing, however, being intelligently conceived and delicately layered to reflect and counterpoint both the ebb and flow of the texts and the heart-stopping textural delicacy of Alyth's voice.
Instrumentalists appearing here include Aidan O'Rourke, Mary MacMaster, Rory Campbell, Davey Trouton, Neil Harland and Kevin Mackenzie, and their contributions are all faithfully captured by the excellently clear recording (the only, minor flaw being the overly close balance given to the piano at times). The arrangements are actually quite unusual, with deft and sparky rhythmic twists and turns, and worlds away from the thick, washy Celtic mush of some latterday fusion music. Take the strident fiddle work on A Fhleasgaich Óig, and the thumping piano dissonances on Ó Mo Dhúthaich, contrasted with the smooth, dark cello lines on Dheannain Súgradh, and the apt use of electronic sounds on the downright scary closer MacCrimmon.
One unforgivable omission, however, which devalues the total package somewhat, is some notes on, or at the very least a summary of the texts of, the songs. But aurally, this is a really mesmerising album that deserves many repeated plays at close listening quarters.
www.alyth.com
www.verticalrecords.co.uk
David Kidman
If you've already encountered Manchester-born Jenny, you may be as confused as I was to read that English Country Garden is being promoted as her debut CD. This is, however, blatantly not the case, for I recall that around two years ago I reviewed (for The Living Tradition magazine, as it happens) a more than promising CD by Jenny entitled Me, I Prefer The Moon. That disc contained, along with its self-penned title track, at least three other songs which also crop up on English Country Garden (though I've not yet been able to check whether the actual recordings are identical as I can't lay my hands on the earlier CD just at the moment!).
However, having got that misconception-cum-deception out of the way, what we have with English Country Garden is a truly delightful disc, one that tends to underplay the Kate-Rusby-soundalike angle and concentrate more on Jenny's own special qualities. (Actually, the more I think about it, the more I suspect that following comments I made in the original review Jenny's had a rethink, done some more recording that more strongly forges her own identity, and has now gotten re-branded.)
Even so, hearing her own composition Don't Be Cruel, you could be easily forgiven for believing that Jenny has fully embraced Kate Rusby as her role model – such is the "dead ringer" impression created by her pure-toned and youthful vocal inflections and "regional accent" vowel sounds, the simple chordal phrasing of her strummed guitar style and the wandering, floating slow-waltz tempo of the song itself. But to dismiss Jenny as a Rusby clone would be immensely unfair, and unfortunate in the extreme, for she has many more individual facets to her talent, not least her personable songwriting. Indeed, the very title of this new CD turns out to be a peculiarly accurate indication of where Jenny's at, for it's not a namecheck for the slightly twee dance tune and song of that name but a clever portrayal of Jenny's musical sensibilities, her dual empathy with traditional English folk song and country music of the backwoods-garden kind (tho' I find she's been compared to both Anne Briggs and Lucinda Williams, with shades of Kathryn Williams hanging out in the background!). Jenny's singing voice is a breathy, ostensibly fragile timbre that belies its latent expressive potential, especially for conveying a gently melancholy quality. On this album, Jenny intersperses some striking personal reworkings of four traditional songs with seven of her own haunting compositions; of the former, her take on Blackwater Side is particularly original and compelling, but I also really liked her interpretation of Go From My Window (which opens the disc), even if in comparison her House Carpenter maybe underplays the drama of the ballad to some extent. Jenny's own songwriting activity has resulted in some enchanting compositions which in their poetic expressivity reflect her ambition to be a writer: The Fisherboy is directly inspired by traditional sources, but the remainder are more tellingly personal, purveying a healthy optimism in the face of often quite desperate emotional crises and states. The album was recorded simply and effectively at home (another point of comparison with Ms Rusby and her clan, but we shouldn't do anything but note that in passing), but it sounds great – intimate and immediate. I understand that the fine supporting musician Kevin McCormick (mandolin and guitar) is Jenny's father, but the disc also contains some exceptional double bass playing from Jon Thorne and Stuart Eastham, with banjo and harmonica on a couple of tracks courtesy of Tom Barnes, piano by Rob Fowler and percussion by Paddy Steer. There's just one minor aspect of the recording that still troubles me a little, and I can't be sure of my ground since I've not yet managed to see Jenny perform live; it's a concern that I noted in my earlier review, whereby on record at least (and more noticeably on some tracks than others), her voice seems to possess a slightly artificial (treated?) "girly" timbre. But that aside, all in all this CD is a very persuasive advocate for Jenny as an individual emerging talent.
David Kidman January 2008
Steve McCormick - Lowlight And Footnotes (Own Label)
Steve's probably easiest termed a loosely Americana-styled singer-songwriter based near Carlisle, with an appealingly individual angle on the genre. Basically, his clever, observational take on all things country comes from a very English perspective, as much reminiscent of Squeeze (very much so at times, in fact) as (say) Bob Cheevers or Robbie Fulks. Having said that, there's plenty of commendably self-deprecating humour amidst his pithy commentaries. For instance, My Woman Doesn't Give A Damn comes on like Billy Bragg meets the Burritos – great stuff… Maybe the opener Another English Cowboy goes a little too far towards self-parody, with a hint of over-deliberate point-making, but as a general rule Steve makes all the right noises and his songs wear a badge of conviction that overrides the very occasional feeling of contrivance. You can hear there's potential for songs such as The Other Man and Breaking Hearts being covered by other artists too. The conviction in his lyrics is backed with a knowing empathy with the genre in which he evidently feels musically most comfortable, for on this his debut CD, he plays all the instruments himself (aside from pedal steel, for which he brings in Dave Midgley). Impressive. Yeah: Steve's alright, Jack!
David Kidman December 2008
Del McCoury - High Lonesome & Blue (Rounder Heritage)
One of the latest instalments in Rounder's ongoing thirty-part Heritage series concentrates on a true cornerstone of the bluegrass scene, the celebrated singer (and no mean guitar player) Del McCoury. There's no denying that Del, perennial winner of IBMA awards and recent Grand Ol' Opry inductee, is the possessor of one of the most soulful voices in bluegrass today. This compilation gathers together no less than 16 of his definitive recordings made for the Rounder label between 1987 and 1996, at a time when Del was on the cusp of his now burgeoning popularity with audiences within bluegrass, country and rock. Del's joint album with brother Jerry (1987's McCoury Brothers) is the origin of three of the cuts on this compilation, whereas Del's four subsequent 90s solo albums for Rounder are sourced more or less evenly – four tracks apiece from Blue Side Of Town and Don't Stop The Music, three from A Deeper Shade Of Blue and just two from the latest, Cold Hard Facts. Having said that, Del's career with Rounder actually began with the landmark album High On A Mountain, released way back in 1972; although no tracks from that debut are included here, the version of its title track which Del re-recorded for 1992's Blue Side Of Town appears here instead. These really are classic performances, and every song's a great one; among the musts for inclusion on any compilation featuring Del are his own I Feel The Blues Moving In, which has become a session favourite and recorded by all manner of artists from Slaid Cleaves to the Parton/Harris/Ronstadt "trio" to the Cox Family, and Del's first tryout of a Steve Earle number (If You Need A Fool), seven whole years before his high-profile collaboration The Mountain. Del's expertise with typical lively, snappy treatments is well known, but his versatility outside of hoedown-tempo and medium-fast workouts is demonstrated on the altogether slower Old Memories Mean Nothing To Me. But in tandem with Del's own artistry, this compilation can't help but focus also on the contributions made by his brothers Rob, Ronnie and Jerry, and the natural empathy he achieves with all other band members. You can't put a foot wrong with this collection, a great introduction to Del. Essential bluegrass, sure!
David Kidman
Every now and again you get one that shines out from the rest. There are lots of young American string bands putting out CDs but most fail to fully satisfy for one reason or another. Here is one that does the business. Chance McCoy is a young fiddler and a rapidly rising star in the world of American traditional music. For this CD, his first, he has assembled a hand-picked band of top class musicians to work through nineteen tracks of fully traditional material.
The first thing that comes across is the band's sincere respect and admiration for the original source material and the musicians who played it. They position the music as the hero. They resist the temptation to "improve" it. The band is at the service of the music. They just play it skilfully and tastefully. A recipe for successs. The resulting music says everything that needs to be said.
So many bands have a "we're the stars" approach, putting themselves and their image in first place and the music second. This leads directly to errors of musical judgement and taste and usually delivers the opposite effect to that which is hoped for, which is why they don't satisfy. Those who try to impress for example, with how quick they can play don't deserve a second listen. There is more to music than mere speed and it is an insult to the intelligence of the audience. On this CD you can enjoy every note beautifully articulated without a hint of flavour blur.
Outstanding is their working of "Gospel Plow" with Chance McCoy on banjo and Adam Hurt supplying some very tasteful "Duet Style" banjo in support, ably showing the magical and intriguing sound which two banjos can make together. Chance sings well too, eschewing all the fashionable "country" vocal mannerisms, giving honest and straightforward singing with Aimee Curl doing a superb job of supplying female harmony on several tracks. Chance sings a fine and moving version of "Little Birdie" and accompanies himself on banjo. Also notable is "Little Rose is Gone", a Wilson Douglas tune done as a lovely and haunting fiddle and banjo duet by Chance and Adam. These are just my personal highlights from nineteen excellent tracks.
If you enjoy American Old Time Music there's plenty on this disc for you and something tasty for everybody whatever their predilection. It would have earned the sincere respect and admiration of those who played and recorded the music first time around and now so long ago. They would have understood it perfectly. The CD is available from CD Baby at $15 or as MP3 downloads but is not otherwise widely distributed which is a shame as a lot more people would like to know about it. So here's your chance (no pun intended) to be in on a best kept secret.
www.myspace.com/chancemccoy
www.cdbaby.com/cd/chancemccoy
Roger Young January 2009
A favourite of both Bob Harris and Lucinda Williams, the Sidney born, LA based singer-songwriter and mean slide guitarist follows 2004's stupendous Roll with an album that effortlessly takes her to the next level.
Featuring appearances from Williams, John Doe, Jim Lauderdale and Nancy Wilson, it's informed by both her love of early 70s music (As The Crow Flies could have come from a Crazy Horse session) and the collapsing state of the modern world.
Opening with the swampy strutting raunch of Driving Down Alvarado ("take me down to the place where the monsters graze" she sings as guitars wail behind her), she switches musical moods for From Bakersfield To Saigon, a horny country journey that welds sex and an implied vein of politics. Then, just to pack another punch, along comes Any Minute Now feeding on the apocalyptic paranoia and anxiety that curdle in the blood of All Along The Watchtower and Gimme Shelter and pressing them into a Motown groove.
Expanding the last album''s guitar based trio with Carl Byron's keyboards adding muscle and texture to the solid Texan rhythm section of Dusty Wakeman and Dave Raven, she crafts a full and brooding musical landscape. One across which roam such disturbing numbers as Jesus's Blood with its bitter attack on a curdled Catholicism and cases of paedophilia rumbling through an almost madrigal setting.
It's not all so heavy or musically intense. The gently acoustic, tenderly passionate love song Coming To You, a pure voiced backwoods hymnal Shivers ("take me back to the source of this flame"), the bluegrass slow rolling Bright Light of Day (a reverie coming home after a night with her lover), the gloriously full-blooded poppy Lay Me Down and even the Lucinda and Beatles flavoured bittersweet Sweet Burden of Youth all glimmer with the light of hope.
Closing up with the twangy guitar instrumental title track and its images of neon washed night streets and stories of love and hurt, loss and salvation behind stained windows, it marks a major leap forward for an artist rapidly earning a reputation as one of the finest new voices of the present century.
Mike Davies, August 2006
Anne McCue - Roll (Cooking Vinyl)
A declared favourite of both Bob Harris and Lucinda Williams, singer-songwriter and a mean slide guitarist to boot McCue is Americana by way of Sydney, Australia and a musical upbringing that embraced such diversity as Erik Satie and Nick Cave. A stint on the Lilith Fair tours saw her relocate to LA, notching up tour supports with such luminaries as Williams, Richard Thompson and Dave Alvin.
Having released the pop flavoured debut Amazing Ordinary Things and a live album recorded at San Francisco's legendary Fillmore on the Williams tour, she now steps up a level with this cocktail of Delta inclined country/folk blues n rock that embraces influences that run the gamut from The Byrds (Stupid) and Lucinda (Crazy Beautiful Child) to Zeppelin/Robert Johnson (Hangman), Patti Smith (the venomous Ghandi) and Hendrix whose Machine Gun she covers in a nine minute one take burst of blistering, vitriolic guitar.
Her folk leanings surface gently on the leafily scuffed, sun hazed Milkman's Daughter while the spare broken-hearted bruise of 50 Dollar Whore points up those formative Beatles influences and the opening I Want You Back (which lyric checks the opening line of High Noon) is probably the closest she gets to guitar riding alt-country, but mostly this is an album dominated by bluesy riffs as tough-minded as lyrics spawned from a fair few car wreck romances. Despite the ballads, you get the feeling that it's raunch that characterises her live shows and, impressive as the album is that's probably where she really hits home, though with several numbers already clocking in well past the five minute mark it's to be hoped that she's not prone to extended jams.
Mike Davies
Alistair's impressive CV includes winning the Scottish National Fiddle Championship in three not-quite-successive years in the early 90s, and a stint as a member of "supergroup" Cantarach; for the past ten years he's led the Ayrshire-based band Coila. Alistair's earlier solo album for Fellside, Highly Strung, was one of those exceedingly accomplished offerings that just demanded an immediate encore, yet only now has Wired Up finally hit the racks. Do I hear complaints from puzzled Marx Brothers fans here? For it isn't quite a natural followup, because although it certainly continues the trend of showcasing Alistair's considerable skills as an instrumentalist, the range of its repertoire is far narrower, concentrating this time round much more on a mixture of Scottish material and Alistair's own compositions. These blend very naturally and instinctively, and make for a beautifully paced listening experience. Perhaps Alistair's special strength as a musician lies in combining an easy virtuosity with a true gift for bringing out the melody lines - you might feel that nowhere is this more apparent than in the slow airs like Sarah's Song (composed by Phil Cunningham) and Alistair's own Hazelwood, the former especially displaying a supreme degree of almost classical restraint and poise, but I hear it even more in the sprightliness with which Alistair commands the various sets of faster tunes. His purely solo rendition of the Hanged Man's Reel at the end of the CD is striking for its control and musicality (where so many performers lose grip in trying to rush and impress). There's no lack of drive in the rest of the tracks either; these feature, variously, Alistair backed expertly by pianist Morag Macaskill (his accompanist at championships), fellow-Cantarach member Angus Lyon on accordion and keyboards, erstwhile Capercaillie colleague Marc Duff on whistles and veteran of many lineups Aaron Jones on bouzouki and guitar, among others. The set of reels forming track 5 in particular storms along like nobody's business, culminating in a whirlwind version of Amy Wood's modern classic Catharsis that's only marred by the decision to fade! This fine selection should appeal equally to fiddle fanciers and those who just love good tunes well played and simply but effectively arranged.
David Kidman
Under One Sky is an ambitious, hour-long vocal and instrumental suite by John McCusker, performed by twelve of the most acclaimed folk artistes from Scotland and England: John Tams, Jim Causley, Julie Fowlis, Roddy Woomble, Andy Cutting, Ian Carr, Ewen Vernal, James Mackintosh, Graham Coxon, Iain MacDonald, Emma Reid, and McCusker himself. Some (Causley, Tams, Fowlis, Coxon and Woomble) only make one cameo appearance, but all are pre-eminent in their own sphere of activity, naturally.
Musically, Under One Sky is an all-embracing work which demonstrably embodies the simple universal truth that "there is only one sky and we all live under it". Most of the seven movements making up the suite are of sectional construction, comprising a sequence of tunes and/or songs which are combined creatively into an artistic whole without compromising the integrity of these individual pieces in any way. Notwithstanding the intentionally strongly unified nature of the suite, each movement has its own special character, as you'd expect.
The opening (title) track is loosely akin to an overture: it's a kind of tone-poem, portraying a scenic tour of traditional Scottish tunes half-remembered you might say - although all bar one of the tunes are John McCusker's own compositions, the fourth being by Ian Carr... of course, the authorship credit is an indicator of just how convincingly these musicians are able to write within the tradition. The actual scoring of the music is felicitous too, making well-defined use of individual instrumental colours and combinations to convey a delightful "arranged-session" vibe; John McCusker has a real gift for this, and Under One Sky must count among his finest achievements in the field.
The second movement is a masterly piece that wears its twelve-minute span lightly: it conjoins two poignant original songs by John Tams (Will I See Thee More and Hush A Bye), fondly sung by Jim Causley and Tam respectively, with a fabulous McCusker tune (Rosaleen's Waltz) forming the bridge between the two. Further contrast in timbre and mood occurs with the third movement, on which a contrasted pair of songs composed and performed by Julie Fowlis (the lyrical 'S Tusa Thilleas and the breathtaking mouth music of Banais Bhaile) find themselves ably counterpointed by three sprightly tunes, whirling to a jazzy conclusion with Touche Pas.
Roddy's principal contribution comes with the fourth movement, which brings together his wonderfully atmosphere-laden Long Time Past and Lavender Hill, and to which the ensuing, admirably lithe tune-set (which includes one of Andy's tunes) provides an effective foil, whereas Graham's turn in the spotlight comes with the suite's penultimate movement, All Has Gone - inevitably the work's most contemporary-sounding episode but not jarring in the slightest. If I've any criticism of the suite, it's that it feels a little unbalanced, since the more extended and substantial items occur early on, while the final movement, a pair of sparkling McCusker-penned jigs, might be considered less of a progression or conclusion and takes on more of the role of a crowd-pleaser finale.
The accompanying booklet contains copious biographical notes on the musicians, but (reasonably enough) allows the music to speak for itself: all very well, but room could (and should) have been found, I'm sure, for a translation of Julie's lyrics. But these are minor points when set alongside the finely-coordinated arrangements and the array of superlative musicianship on display.
www.underonesky.co.uk
www.navigatorrecords.co.uk
David Kidman December 2008
John McCusker - Yella Hoose/ Goodnight Ginger (Navigator)
This sensibly-mid-priced set forms a timely reissue of John's second and third solo albums, originally released in 2000 and 2003 respectively, and here presented in freshly remastered guise. It also forms a salutary reminder of just how long John's been around the folk scene as a consummate instrumentalist (fiddle, whistles, cittern) not to mention a much-in-demand session-man. And there's also the undeniable fact that when the first of these two CDs was made he'd already chalked up over a decade in the mighty Battlefield Band!
Of course, the past five years have seen John occupied twenty-five hours a day with special projects and joint ventures of various kinds (his latest, Under One Sky, is already proving a sizeable hit), but it's still good to hear him relaxing into what he's always done so well - playing and writing tunes in a defiantly musical, non-frenetic style - for two whole albums' worth. Revisiting these records after the passage of time proves a very worthwhile exercise, too, for they're replete with a thoroughly unassuming virtuosity, and a command of - and respect for - the tradition, both qualities which have long been John's trademarks. Some of the material originates from John's Battlefield days, but there's no appreciable difference in quality over the years - indeed, the consistency is quite uncanny. It's indicative, too, that much of the material is predominantly lyrical.
On each album, John has proudly recruited a staggering array of guest musicians, all of whom clearly believe in, and greatly respect, John's talent, and who contribute greatly to the carefully-arranged sound picture. It's like a who's-who of trusty folk and roots sessioners: Ian Carr, Andy Cutting, Tim O'Brien, Darrell Scott, Michael McGoldrick, Simon Thoumire, Gino Lupari, all brilliant and intuitive musicians. And (perhaps inevitably, given the time-frame of these recordings) there's a cameo vocal track by Kate Rusby on each of the discs: perfectly in tune with the gentle, restrained and tasteful mood of the rest of the menu. Although I marginally prefer the balance and content of Goodnight Ginger over Yella Hoose, both albums satisfy much and are recommended for close listening in order to fully appreciate the intimate and intricate - and musically intelligent - arrangements.
David Kidman January 2009
This release has strong connections with Flame Of Wine by Lasarfhíona (which coincidentally I've reviewed very recently too), in two respects: that Inishere (Aran Islands) native MacDara Ó Conaola is Lasarfhíona's brother, and that The Love Token also uses the same co-producer (Máire Breatnach) together with an almost identical cast of backing musicians (in this case Bill Shanley, Mick O'Brien, Danny Dyrt, Paul Gunning, Johnny McDonagh and Máire herself). Lasarfhíona herself even appears on backing vocals on two of the tracks. MacDara's singing shares with his sister's a predominantly gentle quality and timbre, which proves most attractive on a wide range of material on this, his debut release. Musically at any rate, that range may prove a mite too wide for some listeners, for in encompassing some quite adventurous arrangements alongside the fairly orthodox trad-arr guitar, fiddle, whistle and bodhrán accompaniments I'm not entirely sure that it all quite hangs together - even though MacDara's voice provides the all-important unifying factor and he's evidently totally at ease with his chosen material. But almost every track turns out to have a special virtue - and character - all its own, from very appealing renditions of two contrasting traditional songs Baile Uí Laoi (Ballylee) and Stóirín Geal Mo Chroí, through to the romantic swoon of dance-floor country-cajun (Webb Pierce's I Don't Care) and the carefree, relaxed free-wheeling whimsy of the self-composed It's So Easy. There's an altogether more experimental ambience-enhanced soundscape for the strangely funky lament Án Dún Aengus, whereas in contrast, MacDara adopts an almost cheeky come-on tone for the delicious Buachaillín Deas Óg Mé and Beidh Aonach Amárach. And when singing in English, MacDara is generally every bit as persuasive (although, exceptionally, I do find his setting of By The Roving Of Her Eyes a little bland). For, listening to MacDara, you feel you can almost believe his claim that "someone invented the wheel for me"!...
www.myspace.com/macdaramusic
www.thearansinger.com
David Kidman March 2007
Were there any justice, dust-throated McDermott's 1991 folk rock debut 620 W. Surf should have put him on track to the sort of career enjoyed by Mellencamp and Springsteen, both artists to whom he has been likened. Despite critical acclaim, that didn't happen nor, equally inexplicably, did stunning follow up Gethsemane prove any more successful.
At which point, things took a stumble as the now 23 year old Irish-Catholic Chicagoan found himself lured by the temptations of the road and rock n roll lifestyle, believing that experiencing the gutter would be good for his creativity. It gave him the songs, inspirational numbers infused with his strong religious faith, but he found climbing back out again a harder trick to pull off. Four further albums emerged, though by now he'd lost his major label deal, then came the crunch when, in 2004, he was busted for cocaine possession and locked up in Cook County, Chicago's toughest jail. Realising he'd hit bottom, the consolation was that the only way left was up. An agreement to attend drug school rehab put him back in the world, taking with him the inspiration that would produce the songs about addiction and the search for redemption on this, his eighth album. Ironically, his cell he was the one his still incarcerated father had spent time in some years before for a gun bust. Maybe that gave him pause to see where his own life was heading, it was certainly the impetus to write the aching confessional My Father's Son.
Maybe it's because of the fire in which it was forged, but, largely recorded live, it's his best and most emotionally raw work since the debut. Built around acoustic guitar, dobro, piano and pedal steel, Mess Of Things lays the cards on the table from the start as he looks back to being a strung out addict 'on 23rd waitin' on a friend', caught in New York's black hole of self-destruction, overwhelmed by his loneliness and ability to screw up.
Throughout the album women and God are the straws at which he clutches, looking to help pull himself from the abyss. Relationships founder, regrets weigh down and self-loathing washes in on numbers like the Prine-like Still Ain't Over You Yet, A Kind Of Love Song, Broken, A Long Way From Heaven and the janglingly anthemic The American In Me, a self-examination of both himself and a nation.
But equally, No Words finds hope that he's worth saving, All My Love sees him realising what he's wants from acknowledging what he's lost and the album closes on the magnificent piano ballad Shall Be Healed where he finally comes to the alter and opens himself to be saved.
You don't have to share his faith to be swept up by McDermott's songs, but if you've ever even half-glimpsed the same darkness, this will ring like a chapel bell in the night.
www.michael-mcdermott.com
www.myspace.com/michaelmcdermott
Mike Davies April 2008
This time released on the Levellers' OTF label, the McDermotts crew's latest studio CD brings another glorious set of thoughtful, fresh-sounding, often rabble-rousing songs from the pen of Nick Burbridge. Once again Nick takes traditional-type tune structures as the template and ambit for his brilliantly cogent and alert commentaries on our society. Couched in vital, stirring acoustic-based settings with strong tunes, a logically mighty degree of rhythmic impetus and a perennial abundance of energy in the playing and singing, these new songs are the total embodiment of Nick's unwavering commitment to the dispossessed which as always lends the songs a uniquely plaintive passion and urgency.
Here the McDermott's core lineup of Nick Burbridge (guitar, vocals, bodhrán), Ben Paley (fiddle) and Matt Goorney (bass, ukelele, harmonica, melodica) is augmented by a whole host of musicians including Tim Cotterell, Charlie Heather, Mandy Murray, Calum Stewart and John Brewins, but textures are kept clear and uncluttered and Nick's lyrics remain the unerring focus throughout. And again Nick shows his acute feel for expressing wholly reasoned views on our own times, preoccupations and morals through an unfailingly intelligent use of political narrative and allegory. His creations are songs that grab you from first play, and by second runthrough you almost feel you've known them for ages; I could single out the haunting Stowaway, the wonderfully atmospheric sense of poetry linking Bone's Farewell and All Souls' Night, the wildly catchy Crazy Jane's Day Out... but that would be denigrating the impact of the remainder of the songs, which seriously don't have a weak link among them anywhere. If as on previous albums I hear distinct resonances of the work of Dr. Strangely Strange and Robin Williamson (the latter especially on the phrasing and demeanour of aforementioned Bone's Farewell), well that's not to be taken as any kind of complaint. In fact, all that I said about the previous McDermotts offerings remains true for this new set, which is easily the equal of those (who knows, it might soon surpass them - that is, until I get round to playing one or other of them again!); yes, Goodbye To The Madhouse is surely set to enter the exalted company of both Claws And Wings and Disorder as positively a classic of acoustic-folk-rock.
www.burbridgearts.org
www.levellers.co.uk
David Kidman August 2007
David Kidman
Influential folk band McDermott's Two Hours were named after a hippy who when left in charge of Radio Free Derry for a famous two hours replaced the playlist of rebel songs with the Incredible String Band (good man!). McDermotts were "out-levelling the Levellers in the anarchy stakes when the latter were still wet behind the ears", and the Levs repaid the debt by signing them to their label in the 80s. The bands continue to be firm friends, and this second "vs" collaboration reunites McDermotts' two founder members Nick Burbridge and Tim O'Leary with the Levs' rhythm section (Charlie Heather and Jeremy Cunningham), with Jon Sevink providing extra fiddle on the opening track, The first collaboration between McDermotts and Levellers had allegedly been little more than a bloody good craic, though energetic and inspired; unfortunately it passed me by, so I can't comment, but Claws And Wings turns out to be something very special indeed. It's described on the press handout as "a classic contemporary protest record, which isn't made for 'the business' but for the true listener, drawing on the best elements of the folk-rock tradition to find an authentic, powerful voice". And that's no exaggeration. Elements such as the thoughtful contemporary sensibility, and a healthy open-mindedness in musical expression, with arrangements that are (happily) totally bereft of the worst types of folk-rock cliché (like leaden or thrashy rhythms) and truly serve the lyric content. Heavy-handedness gets no quarter here. The multi-tracking of Tim's bowed string contributions (fiddle, viola) is managed with a quality that recalls Robin Williamson (Merry Band or Myrrh), and Nick's singing has that puckish, perky and alert drive that combines the delicious quirkiness of the ISB with the vitality of the Levs. The songs really do cut through time, as they run the gamut from the opening rallying-cry reel of Song Of A Leveller to the dark drunkard's tale North And South to the wonderfully sombre Eyes Of Fate aura of Snapshot and the deeply meditative Song Of A Quaker's Wife to the vibrant mysticism of Travelling To Cockaigne to the tender and thought-provoking Postcard to the bitter mouth-music chant of Stór Mo Chroí to Song Of A Father, where the affirmative quality of the life-force is conveyed with an even-handed, consistent quasi-classical poise; then there's the fine trilogy that concludes the album, wherein the perspectives of contemporary political experience are brought to bear on all that has gone before. Sure, no-one wins (again) - as if you didn't know it; but hey, it's the listener who wins, in being immeasurably enriched by the insight and (eventually) wisdom that these enlightened perspectives bring. Yes, Claws And Wings is a very impressive record indeed, uniformly strong and well-balanced both musically and lyrically, and it's easily going to turn out to be one of my albums of the year, I'm convinced.
David Kidman
The shortened history of this excellent Irish folk/rock album is that songwriter, guitarist and vocalist Nick Burbridge and multi-instrumentalist Tim O'Leary of McDs 2 Hours got together with the rhythm section of the Levellers, Charlie Heather, percussion and Jeremy Cunningham, bass, and recorded World Turned Upside Down in Brighton last year.
Their collaboration has produced an album of eight melodious and original songs which feel like Celtic standards (and will probably end up being so). There's a strong political edge to the intelligent and thought-provoking lyrics: the struggle for freedom; battles fought and friends lost; friendship celebrated. But it's not just one which will only go down well with expatriates at Guinness parties; 'celebratory' describes the album itself. The musicianship is accomplished, the music hook-laden. Burbridge's acoustic guitar and O'Leary's fiddle, bouzouki, whistles and harmonica are sensitively played and arranged. The album rocks along with a fine foot-tapping and joyful swagger, underpinned by the impressive Levellers' rhythm section.
The name McDermott's Two Hours was "taken from a hippy called Tommy McDermott who, when left in charge of Radio Free Derry, replaced the usual playlist of rebel songs with the Incredible String Band and exhorted the people to 'be cool and calm and love one another'." We'll drink to that!
Sue Cavendish
It's nearly eight years since Catriona recorded her second solo CD Bold, and while in the interim there's been no shortage of bright young Shetland folk musicians making names for themselves this scintillating fiddle player has always been in a class of her own somewhat, and here definitely remains so. For album number three, Catriona has again surrounded herself with three of the most in-demand musicians on the Scottish music scene - Unusual Suspects' David Milligan (piano) and Shooglenifty's Conrad Ivitsky (double bass) and James Mackintosh (percussion) – who together lend this album too a strong jazz perspective that both complements and moulds Catriona's own playing to give the whole project a very distinctive signature. A good example of this is track 4 (Him On Piano), which takes Catriona's own hymn-like piece (which was composed specially for David) and ingeniously metamorphoses into a Swedish polska, finishing up on a brilliant original tune by Carina Normansson. The special rapport between Catriona and David in particular is striking, but the whole album has a real feel of the musicians having fun and appreciating and enjoying each other's company and sensibility, sparking off each other most inventively with as much the spirit of an empathic jazz trio as that of a folk or classical ensemble. Just over half of the eleven tracks either contain or consist exclusively of Catriona's own compositions, either heavily inspired by traditional tune-forms or more freely constructed. The official final track pairs a solo rendition of Da West Side Brides March with a Muckle reel which intriguingly sounds much like a Norwegian halling, given an almost heavy-metal-style finish (I can't find a more apt description). After which, there's a few minutes of silence before the bonus track, on which Catriona delivers Sir Olaf, a Trowie ballad fetchingly sung to a Norse melody (her only vocal performance on the entire disc). This may provide a deliberate contrast to all that's gone before, but like the rest of this genuinely exhilarating CD it interprets and presents the ever-changing tradition in the light of world influences as it sparkles with both a youthful freshness of approach and an attractive maturity of outlook. You too may well be as much over the moon listening to the disc as Catriona and her chums obviously were in making the record.
David Kidman March 2008
Greentrax get seriously funky with this latest offering from young Highland piper/whistle player Finlay, who, with his crack band, lay down what I'd wager is probably the tightest groove on the scene at the moment. His previous outing, Pressed For Time (on the Footstompin' label), was a really assured disc that demonstrated not only Finlay's formidable playing technique but also his respect for the tradition, while creating exciting settings for the tunes themselves. ReEcho, which follows a period of intensive touring, also sees a small change in his band personnel, whereby John Speirs has replaced Quee Macarthur on bass, but if anything the band is tighter than ever. This is apparent right away when the disc kicks off with the seven-minute funk extravaganza Back To Bergamo (melding together three of Finlay's own compositions), mean and dirty with edge-of-the seat rhythms and constant interest in all departments - the point when Finlay switches to the pipes (after starting out on flute) is one of those defining moments that stuns each time you play through. What sets this disc apart from the crowd of jazzed-up, funked-up pretenders is the sheer excitement, the exhilaration, the amazing dexterity with which Finlay and his band encompass metres that surprise even in the context of the tunes' origins. Their approach is innovative, the groove fiercely contemporary, yet not a programmed beat in earshot - and the result is all the more exciting for it. That opening set is hard to beat, but in their own way the stirring, majestic pace of the Time To Dance set and the heavier tread of Abdoul's carry their own weight and the statelier Bulgarian tune midway through the disc provides a key staging-post. Martyn Bennett's Ud The Duduk forms the basis for a robust workout where Fergus Mackenzie's hyperactive drumming and brother Kevin's electric guitar licks entice with their counter-rhythms. Fiddler Chris Stout again more than proves his worth, every bit as much on the lyrical viola melody of Miss Elliott's as on the spinning, whirling-ever-faster sections where he seems to be duelling with Finlay's pipes. The closing medley of a Breton tune and Finlay's piece The Sunday Club makes for a fittingly sparky finale. No disappointment here then, from any quarter.
David Kidman January 2008
Scott MacDonald - New Heart (Catacol Records)
Scott MacDonald is a singer-songwriter from a village on the outskirts of Glasgow. He is a fine musician and songwriter, with one foot in the tradition and the other pointing West. His music has best been described as where Celtic meets country. It's honest solo acoustic guitar fare with simple harmonica accompaniment (track 10 being the exception with fiddle, guitar, percussion and backing vocal additions). His voice is warmly melodic and confidential, with just enough polish and that touch of desolation which makes lyrics compulsive listening. The album is a pleasure to listen to. Live he performs his songs with strength, style and intensity; Scott is no limp-wristed strummer!
New Heart will be released shortly but is available now at his gigs. Also available is a 3-track single 'Burn Baby Burn', songs written about his time in Australia where he played Perth & Melbourne and was known as the Celtic Neil Young!
Sue Cavendish
Shelagh's was never a household name, even within the hallowed realms of the folk enthusiast, but she so richly deserved the status and her damnably short career is the stuff of legend. Arguably even more so since she did a complete vanishing act in 1972 after releasing just two LPs which showed her to be a performer of considerable talent and promise. And she's not been heard of since then - no, not at all. So to all intents and purposes, Let No Man Steal Your Thyme is all you're ever going to get in terms of recordings; it's the absolutely complete collection. On two CDs it brings us the entire contents of both of Shelagh's LPs, originally released on B&C (1970's The Shelagh McDonald Album and 1971's Stargazer), along with all retrievable alternate takes, outtakes and demos and the tracks which appeared on the Club Folk records. If you already own the Mooncrest CD editions of the two albums (which came out around five or six years back), which included most of the extra material mentioned, you're still likely to want this new collection, for it opens with the brace of (admittedly less than characteristic) acoustic country-blues-style tracks recorded live and originally available only on the obscure 1969 BBC compilation Dungeon Folk. And it has a finely detailed new booklet note by David Wells, which not only provides full credits for the recordings (unlike the Mooncrest reissues), but also states the case for Shelagh's artistry most persuasively. Not that it could pass you by when you play the CDs, for Shelagh had a superb singing voice by any standards, notwithstanding the strength and individuality of her songwriting. Her singing matched the purity of a Judy Collins with the dexterity and range of Joni Mitchell (the melodic contours of whose songs, not to mention the actual writing, Shelagh's resembled at times too), but it's Sandy Denny to whom Shelagh was most often considered the heir in the solo female artist stakes (Sandy herself having at that point forsaken a solo career for a group setting). Shelagh seemed to have everything (striking good looks too!), although the critical approval which her music garnered wasn't matched by LP sales. Then there was the vigour of the supporting playing - producer Sandy Roberton had gathered round Shelagh a real who's-who of fine guest musos for each session. Album featured Andy Roberts, Gerry Conway, Pat Donaldson, Gordon Huntley, Ian Whiteman and Keith Tippett, as well as fellow singer-songwriter Keith Christmas (with whom Shelagh had been briefly involved while living in Bristol in 1969). Aside from bringing on board Messrs Christmas and Whiteman again, Stargazer featured an even more diverse array of talents, from Richard Thompson, Dave Mattacks and Danny Thompson to Mac & Katie Kissoon! Some of the musical arrangements employed were pretty ambitious, and were masterminded by Robert Kirby (who'd done string settings for Nick Drake), and thus don't fall into the despised 70s over-production trap. As well as Shelagh's own songs (which provide the main focus only on Stargazer, whereas roughly a third of Album was covers, albeit superior ones, of material by Christmas, Roberts and Gerry Rafferty). As well as this collection's title track, the traditional song repertoire is represented by a stunning, brooding version of the traditional Dowie Dens Of Yarrow which would have put many a contemporaneous folk-rock treatment well and truly in the shade. Though her albums sounded very much in the mould of upcoming folk-rock-pop singer-songwriter offerings of the time, none of the tracks Shelagh recorded seem really to have dated (at least to my ears). If you've not caught up with Shelagh's work before now, then hasten along and get this set. Join with me in regretting Shelagh's disappearance, sure, but rejoice with me that her complete recorded legacy is here for our permanent enjoyment.
David Kidman
Kate McDonnell - Where The Mangoes Are (Appleseed)
Connecticut-born, New-York-State-based singer-songwriter Kate joins the illustrious roster of Appleseed for this, her fourth album. Coming a full two years on from her well-received and decidedly strong third offering Don't Get Me Started, Where The Mangoes Are is another strong record, marking a further significant advance in Kate's music. Tom Paxton has cited Kate's music for its combination of grace, intelligence and warmth – a beguiling one indeed, and one with which I'd be loth to disagree; I sure can't, so I won't! Once again, the majority of the songs on the album are Kate's own compositions, either solo or in collaboration with Anne Lindley. These include two songs with at first glance rather familiar titles, Go Down Moses and Hey Joe, the former a direct portrayal of the highs of love and the latter a rather more enigmatic expression of the conundrum of life and death that capitalises on the rhythm and momentum of the more familiar song of that title. Chronologically, the songs here were mostly written over the period 2000 through 2003 (standouts Mercy and Soft-hearted Girl were both songwriting contest winners last year), the one exception being 5:05, written as long ago as 1991 but betraying not a trace of immaturity. The one and only cover this time round is of Steve Earle's Goodbye Song, given an attractive and deeply felt rendition, with nice fiddle playing from Mindy Jostyn in tow; there's also a "cheerful-and-efficient" interlude midway through the CD in the form of a Freight-Train-style reworking of the traditional Railroad Bill. As before, Kate relies on a small coterie of backing musicians, among whom the multi-talented Scott Petito figures large but without dominating Kate's own delectable musical personality (but what on earth's a "garden weasel" then, Scott?!); there's also some notable electric guitar fills from Marc Shulman on many of the cuts. Also as before, Kate's own guitar playing is crisp and clear-toned yet unobtrusive (less unobtrusive than you might think when you learn that she plays left-handed yet with guitar strung upside-down – so figure that, fingerpickers!)… Her singing is again characterised by that rarer-than-you'd-think combination of rhythmic individuality in phrasing and strength in flexibility (her playful vocalising on the strange, seductive Lemon Marmalade, which includes the CD's title phrase, is specially mesmerising). So what this all adds up to is another memorable album from Kate, which with the added benefit of Appleseed's wide distribution should ensure Kate gains plenty more admirers.
David Kidman
This third album from Connecticut-born singer-songwriter Kate is very probably her best yet (if not quite the most consistent) - and both Broken Bones and Next (both on Waterbug) were hard acts to follow. These two albums were separated by a gap of four years, but Don't Get Me Started appeared last year, after a shorter gap of only just over two years. This shorter interval is reflected in the urgency of the writing, and an even greater self-confidence that kicks away every last trace of that occasional diffidence I'd noted on Broken Bones. Aside from joyous Carter-Family-style takes on Banks Of The Ohio and Little Darlin' Pal Of Mine (the bonus track) - where Kate's joined by what seems like the whole McDonnell clan - and a deft, swift and wonderfully-judged cover of John Pennell's Will You Be Leaving?, everything here is self-penned and (mostly) acutely personal, but you don't feel excluded at all (as can so easily happen with confessional singer-songwriters). Songs like the title track (an unsurpassable slice of bitterness co-written by the curiously-named Anne Killheffer!), Gone, Take Me Home and What Will You Do? (shades of Joan Baez on the latter perhaps, tho' no bad thing!) are classics of their kind, and set my machine's replay button on overtime. Kate's vocal delivery is immensely assured and distinguished by its very passion, and since it doesn't readily invoke any direct comparisons with other singers it proves pretty damn impressive in its own right. Kate's guitar work is unusually skilled and powerful (she's been described as "upside-down-and-backwards guitarist" - just hear her!), emphasising the poetic rhythms of her lyrics in a strikingly individual way. Instrumental support is carefully managed courtesy of producer Scott Petito, who also plays bass, electric guitar, mandolin and percussion; Jerry Marotta plays drums, while there are also notable fiddle contributions from Gina Forsyth on a handful of cuts, and Ben Murray blows a bluesy harmonica on Sticky Buns, one of the oldest songs on the album and the most throwaway in nature. But importantly, the focus is firmly on Kate and her guitar throughout, which is exactly at it should be. Very much worth seeking out.
under construction - try http://www.waterbug.com/mcdonnell.htmlDavid Kidman
As such, it's a bit of rollercoaster in terms of tone, sliding from the loose limbed jazzy double bass, vibes and brushed percussion shuffle of Non Smoking Single Female and the vaudeville ragtime Old New Borrowed And Blue via the 40s meets Van Morrison gospel I'll Be Willing and the Celtic bluegrass suffer So Well to the Tom's Diner aping Isn't It A Little Late?, a slow lollop through Rodney Crowell's Shame On The Moon and a stripped down acoustic folk cover of Marvin Gaye's Mercy Mercy Me.
A useful thumbnails introduction, but you'd really be much better off seeking out the source albums, while fans who've already got the set will be happy to know that the only new track, the exuberant, percussion perky Oh Uganda, is also being released as a single.
www.eleanormcevoy.com
www.myspace.com/emcevoymusic
Mike Davies October 2009
A bit of a change of pace from her last few albums, this doesn't ditch the folk, jazz, blues cocktail but it is far meatier (replete with much fat brass) than the stripped back moods of Out There and very much wears its late 50s/early 60s heart on its (album) sleeve. It also reverses the balance of past releases by favouring covers over the self-penned and collaborative material.
Apparently initially planned as a covers collection linked around a theme of turning 40 (a wry twist being that most of them are normally sung by men), it grew into a reflection on the hopes and disappointments of love as well as growing old. It's the latter that strikes the opening note with a bossa nova treatment of the Stones' Mother's Little Helper complete with jazz piano, itchy percussion and early hours sax. Sung in her distinctive accent, it's not only a fabulous reinterpretation but it's the first time I've actually made out all the words.
The passing of the years is there on the next cover, a fine honky tonk piano roll through Terry Allen's bluegrassed tale of a Lubbock Woman hitting 40, lonely, not so good looking but raunchy and with a good heart.
Ringing the musical changes, If You Want Me To Stay is a simply arranged voice and percussion gospel blues reading of the Sly and the Family Stone nugget while Hands Off Him brings a sassy good time New Orleans brass and organ roll through Priscilla Bowman's 1955 big band swinger.
Turning on the country taps, a slowly lollopping Shame On The Moon, Rodney Crowell's wistful musing on the mysteries of a woman's heart, lifts a throaty slide guitar solo right out of the 50s before she slips over the border for a mariachi samba through Butch Hancock's timeless (S)He Never Spoke Spanish To Me before wrapping up with a breathily delivered, loose limbed, skirt swirling prowl around Nick Lowe's I Knew The Bride (When She Used To Rock 'n'Roll).
So much for the interpretations then (though perhaps technically speaking, a new howl at the moon version of the celebratory Easy In Love from Yola has her covering herself), what about the original material?
First up is track two, a co-write with Johnny Rivers on the jazzy soul swing blues title track with its Hammond backing, sax and snare percussion, delivered with a warm relaxed groove that sounds like it'll be a scorcher live.
Roll Out Better Days, the only self-penned number is another uptempo organ and brass r&b swing tune that you could imagine Van Morrison recording in one of his less grumpy moods. Which leaves a brace of collaborations with former Beautiful South guitarist Dave Rotheray. They shared two co-writes on his recent Homespun album, Short Stories From East Yorkshire, and do the same here. Old New Borrowed And Blue jauntily streams goodtime vaudeville ragtime jazz with clarinet leading the dance steps down the aisle, and the marvellously titled drunken slow waltz The Night May Still Be Young, But I Am Not sees The Pogues meet Piaf down some faded seaside music hall or cabaret dive where an old pianola player tickles the ivories while grey-haired romantics dance away the memories. If the album's this good, the live shows are going to be truly something to savour.
www.eleanormcevoy.com
www.myspace.com/eleanormcevoy
Mike Davies May 2008
Back with an album even more stripped down that Early Hours, and on which she's taken charge of the arrangements and plays pretty much everything you hear, this finds the South Wexford singer-songwriter variously mediating on ecology, economics and, in songs about relationships ended, lacking and desired, female strengths and vulnerabilities.
Opening in k.d.lang mood, the smokey lounge ambience, brushed percussion and vibes of Non Smoking Single Female offers a witty plea for romance written in small ads style but with a sub-text about consumerism.
In more serious moods, she moves on embrace the bitter hurt of To Sweep Away A Fool, masculine commitment phobia on Quote I Love You Unquote (co-penned with Dave Rothery of The Beautiful South), the wounded heart sarcasm of the mandolin and fiddled based Suffer So Well, the marimba tinged So Much Trouble's tale of a woman discovering her husband's infidelity and, by way of a mirror image, temptation resisted in the Gaelic infused folk of Wrong So Wrong.
At least Little Luck looks on the brighter side of holding fast to a relationship in the face of everything.
Elsewhere, Vigeland's Dream uses the Norwegian sculptor as a springboard for a meditation on the connections and emotions art can unlock within us while, embracing wider malaise Fields of Dublin 4 addresses the loss of the city's soul that's accompanied its tiger economy and eco concerns come to the fore on a haunting version of Marvin Gaye's Mercy Mercy Me, slowed down and sung with just acoustic guitar backing.
It's one of two covers on the album, the second being her equally bare boned reinterpretation of Little Feat's Roll Um Easy.
It doesn't always work, the use of programmed drums and synths at odds with the more organic nature elsewhere, but, again drawing on a musical cocktail of jazz, folk and blues, and never compromising her accent in the phrasing, for the most it's another quiet triumph for one of Ireland's most golden yet far too unappreciated talents.
Mike Davies, October 2006
Eleanor McEvoy - Eleanor McEvoy Special Edition (Market Square)
A year later and a new version appeared on McEvoy's self-titled debut album on Geffen. While not perfect, it's an auspicious debut, combining Celtic roots with rock and even a classical colouring. Not bad going though for a one-time 'anonymous fiddler' on albums by the likes of Sinead O'Connor and Foreigner. An early self-taught guitarist, McEvoy's background is essentially classical, though she admits that as a child she hated violin.
"I'd have done anything to give it up. My parents said I could when I was twelve. So on my twelfth birthday I marched in and said 'can I give it up now?' And of course they said no. I remember the injustice of that. One day I just flung it across the room in frustration. It was only when I got older and started playing in youth orchestras (the National Youth Orchestra actually) and listening to the orchestral repertoire that I started to love it!"
A one time hippie, then punk, and always something of a female Nigel Kennedy in her unconventional attitude, McEvoy soon started moonlighting, playing violin with assorted rock bands. But although she'd been busy writing, she didn't have the confidence to get up and sing her own songs in public. Until that is NSO percussionist (and her present drummer) Noel Eccles heard her at a party.
"He talked me into it by saying he'd play with me, which, since he was well known, was a big deal. So I began doing solo gigs. It was difficult to leave the Orchestra because of the salary and security. But while I loved the music, I had no desire to be a concert violinist star, having to practice five hours a day just to stop yourself going backwards. I was never attracted to that lifestyle."
Before finally quitting the classical connections, McEvoy was juggling orchestral appearances, session work, playing violin and keyboards in Mary Black's touring band, as well as her solo 'rock' gigs. It was at one of these solo gigs that A Woman's Heart came to fruition.
"It's a very simple song that I'd written when I was depressed. I didn't think twice about it and I didn't sing it for ages. I did it at this gig that Mary and her husband came to see. He'd got this idea for an album of Irish female performers and when he heard the song he said that would be the title track!"
The rest is history, the success of the track and the album prompting first a tour by the women and then securing a solo deal for McEvoy.
She's been writing from an early age ("my first was when I was eight and it was in Gaelic, then at 10 I wrote something called I'm Being Bugged By My parents"), knocking out string quartets when she was a teenager. She wrote her first serious song however when she was 18. Titled For You, it's included on the album more for sentimental reasons than anything since she declares the lyrics to be so hilariously naive she swore she'd never write anything like it again.
Embracing cello, oboe and a classical violin on one hand and the Celtic melody of Stray Thoughts on the other, it's a rootsy album with rock feel, and perhaps inevitably has prompted comparisons to Suzanne Vega.
But despite the bittersweet nature of the songs, McEvoy insists it's not presenting a portrait of vulnerable womanhood.
"Leave Her Now is about a woman's strength, about coping and getting by, about the strength she has to see her through. A Woman's Heart may be about depression but there's also a strength there. It's 'God, I'm depressed, but I'll survive and manage on my own.' I don't think even Go Now, which is the starkest and most difficult to sing because it's saying' go because I'll cry if you stay', is vulnerable, because it's the woman that's making the decision. You get the feeling more when you hear these songs live. It's not Irish serenity or melancholy. They're a lot rockier!"
Mike Davies
Glaswegian schoolteacher turned singer-songwriter, McEwan's been compared to David Gray and Damien Rice neither of which really sit t comfortably but do serve to locate him in the area of forlorn love songs for those who need convenient pigeonholing.
That said the stirring opening Make A Wave would seem to owe much more to the rousing Celtic rock of Runrig were they fronted by John Mellencamp or Bryan Adams. That same midwest guitar slinging cruising down the highway feel resurfaces on Take The Road and More To Me while slower moments such as the title track, Run Away, piano ballad Crazy and the Memphis infused country soulfulness of Hopeless Heart call to mind Marc Cohn and Billy Joel, suggesting he may initially find it easier to crack America than here.
But, if sheer talent will out then, armed with a warm, dust burred voice and an apparently effortless ability to pen one great song after another (Even Angels Fall and The River Runs Deep alone should have every country singer in Nashville queuing at his door), the world is clearly McEwan's stadium.
Mike Davies
Cripes! I could just cop out and say "another stonking set from Dunc and his merry chums" - But I'm biased of course, for I'm one of the legion of folks who've been avidly following the ongoing strength-to-strength development of the DMcF (Electric) Band as a vital, must-see performing-unit and the progression of their repertoire as honed through the band's commitment to seemingly innumerable live performances – for which reason, if no other, All Rogues And Villains is one of those records for which the phrase "long-awaited" must surely have been coined.
The band's previous studio offering, 2004's Woodshed Boys, was great, but whilst it contained some really good performances and material and fair stormed along in the process it didn't always quite recapture the band's essential onstage presence; so this time round Duncan and his band have, by initially recording this new album live in the studio, brought back the frisson of the "feel of the gig". But this new CD really does benefit from the "best of both worlds" in that full advantage has also been taken of the studio environment to sensibly enhance those details or lines (instrumental or vocal) which inevitably get buried in any live performance environment, while also enabling some creative, intelligent - and often quite subtle - experiments with texture; credit to engineer Matt, who has furnished this latest recording with an impressive depth of focus. Individual instrumental lines are well defined, drawing attention all the more easily to instances where the pairing and/or sounding-together of different instruments (eg electric guitar and fiddle, fiddle and melodeon) form a strong and empathic unison melody line. The sound-picture is at the same time widescreen and richly detailed (rather like viewing a distant shore through a decent wide-angle telescope, perhaps), a combination stressing the gutsy unity of the band while helping to highlight the excellence of the individual band members' contributions. Duncan's nominally the band's figurehead, leading with an iron sporran (!), but he's quick to give his fellow band-members plenty of chances to shine: for instance, fiddle player Anne Brivonese takes the lead vocal role superbly on Lowlands Of Holland, and melodeonist Steve Fairholme proves he's so much more than a mere jobbing squeezer by leading off the Cuckoo's Nest tune-set and fair managing to upstage the rest of the band in the process! Other constant delights include Geoff Taylor's incandescent electric guitar, either resplendent in full-prog mode or satisfyingly twangy; the majestic sweep of Anne's sweet-but-strong fiddle lines; Tony Rogerson's splendidly versatile bass work (alternately niftily melodic and chunky, solid-state); Duncan's own firm-but-gloriously-hyperactive acoustic-guitar bedrock; and Nick Pepper's sparky drumming (not a hint of ploddery, and on the jauntier numbers a sprightly cross between ceilidh-band and driving rock-band). Oh, and the ever-more-confidently-managed backing-vocal teamwork. And Dunc's own singing too has taken a leap forward in stature even since Woodshed Boys, now altogether tougher, grittier and having gained in expressive power (note too his well authentic Scots delivery for Band O' Shearers!). Another development is Dunc's increasing tendency to allow the last line of (say) a stanza or verse to lag behind the beat and over beyond the end bar-line; this can be disconcerting on first acquaintance, but you soon get used to it - and in any case, by avoiding an obvious, regimented and too-perfect delivery, this is good 'cos it enhances the off-the-cuff, as-live feel of the performances.
As for the material performed on this well-stocked disc (70-minute, and not one too long - no filler, all killer!), it's made up of four Dunc-penned ditties (one's a revisit of his earliest "hit", Bed Of Straw), two rollicking instrumental sets and the remainder trad-arr and trad-added-to (imaginatively so, as opposed to bog-standard rocked-up!) songs. The import of the lyrics of Dunc's own Spadge and Rawfold's Mill (sometimes lost in live performance) benefits from the greater clarity of diction that a studio recording affords. And other particular successes? A supremely thoughtful take on Lord Franklin, which ingeniously yet naturally builds in the chorus of Stan Rogers' North West Passage; a mighty rendition of Rakish Young Fellow; and a fair share of neck-prickling moments, like the "orchestrated" interpolation midway through Botany Bay (I don't know quite what's goin' on there, but it sure sounds tremendous!) and the deeply joyous "Anna Goes To Atholl" tune medley that prompts an immediate repeat play just like Dirty Linen or Flatback Caper did the first time you played through Fairport's Full House (remember?)! There are lots of really neat extra touches too (like the mandolin on Cuckoo's Nest), while additionally those all-important little ad-hoc "heys", "yeps" and "yeuches" have been left in the mix, and the "pub gig" feel of the insidiously catchy singalong finale Robin Hood's Bay also extends into the disc's runout groove with a slice of après-gig rolldown-frivolity (recorded on location at "Letsbe Avenue" at closing-time!).
All Rogues And Villains shares with the best folk-rock that fine balance of being at once rewarding to listen to, good to bop around to and fun to play (this comes straight from Duncan's liner-note: "Making music is our hobby and our passion. Long may we love what we do"). Absolutely! - for Duncan and his band sure keep the feelgood factor going in their robust, dynamic and enthusiastic embodiment of "The Living Tradition" (living = vital, alive and relevant). It's a real-live smiley smile from the he-rogues and villains! This is definitely Duncan's best CD yet, and one of which he's every right to be fiercely proud - and so too should every member of his doughty band, without whom Duncan's vision could never be realised. For this is more than a vision: you could say it's the future of folk-rock as informed equally by the past and the present.
David Kidman October 2007
Eileen McGann - Beyond The Storm (Dragonwing)
Eileen's an Irish Canadian singer, songwriter and a skilled interpreter of traditional song, now based out on Vancouver Island, but she visits these shores every couple of years or so, makes a great impression through her live appearances yet inexplicably still has yet to attain much of a "name" profile in this country, despite having aided and abetted Les Barker on numerous recent occasions! Her all-traditional album Heritage was a highlight of 1997, and Beyond The Storm must be considered its true follow-up, though it's been a long time in coming! Eileen here returns to the pattern set by her earlier album Elements, for this time round only four out of the twelve tracks contain either words or music that are traditional, the remainder being Eileen's own compositions (aside from the lovely Waterfall, which comes from the pen of Eileen's good friend Aileen Vance).
Eileen's musical idiom has been accurately described as "Celtic-influenced Canadian folksong"; it's generally mellow and accessible, but not lacking in intensity, for Eileen's a really fine singer with one of those gently soaring voices to die for! Eileen's a committed environmentalist, but she doesn't ram that commitment down your earpiece; instead, her songs are genuinely beautiful creations, replete with comforting, positive philosophy; though they're easy on the ear with attractive melodies, this doesn't mean that they're safe and unchallenging, for her compassion and social conscience inform her performance style and give it considerable power and internal strength. There's no lack of bite in Eileen's writing either - her commentary on global economy, No Country's Law is strong stuff indeed. Her talent for painting pictures and telling stories is enhanced greatly by her choice of supporting musicians - here again, principally "David K" (no relation!) on guitars, bouzouki and bass. The depth and breadth of Eileen's concerns enable a sensible variety in subject-matter too, and she even finds room for a simple love song (Fits Like A Glove), set to an infectious two-step rhythm, from which point the album just gets better and better, the final trio (the haunting, entrancing Water Kelpie's Lullaby, the dramatic ballad Queen Eleanor and the plaintive unaccompanied closer Island Home) providing outstanding and inspiring listening. "Oh what could be more beautiful", indeed…
David Kidman
The McGarrigle Hour DVD (Hannibal)
Loudon, for example, takes charge for his own Schooldays and the trad Baltimore Fire, Martha has vocal duties on Cole Porter's Allez-Vous-En (showing she's inherited the distinctive McGarrigle tremulous flutter) and her self-penned Year of the Dragon (cousin Lily Lanken provides back up and takes her own lead on the touching Alice Blue Gown) while Rufus (looking incredibly young here) gets his solo turn in the spotlight for Heartburn, joins Martha and Kate for a gorgeous reading of the classic Talk To Me Of Mendocino and leads mom, dad and sister on What'll I Do.
Long time musical associate Chaim Tannenbaum steps up to sing Young Love and his own Time On My Hands while lesser known McGarrigle sister Jane takes to the piano to accompany her siblings on Bon Voyage. And so it goes.
It's all lovely, intimate stuff , some songs rendered a cappella (Johnny's Gone To Hilo sees everyone as an assembled choir), some with spare musical backing on banjo, guitar and piano, the set polished off with Rufus returning to take lead on the evergreen Goodnight Sweetheart. By way of a bonus, and showing how years pass, there's also four excerpts from Kate & Anna's 1981 concert at theatre Expo in Montreal, but perhaps the best of the extras is the hyperlink interviews, a facility that enables you to intercut the performances with Kate & Anna's comments on the songs and their family. It's a marvellous piece of musical history and, given recent re-opened rifts between Loudon and the kids, poignant celebration of family.
Mike Davies - December 2005
Kate & Anna McGarrigle - The McGarrigle Christmas Hour (Nonesuch)
It's that time of the year when you find yourself deluged by a succession of slick festive offerings from the Nashville machine as anyone who's ever worn a rhinestone feels compelled to record yet another collection of seasonal chestnuts.
Thank goodness then for a little sanity among the santa clauses in the contracts as Kate & Anna invite family and friends in for something a little more intelligent with this collection of traditional and contemporary songs.
Things start of in crisp, snow-rimmed and garland bedecked mood with church organ launching into the traditional Seven Joys of Mary as everyone, Beth Orton included, lets rip, the choir slimming down to mothers and their offspring for Old Waits Carol before Emmylou Harris takes centre pew to sing O Little Town of Bethlehem accompanied by just piano before brass and pretty much everyone's background vocals join the celebrations.
Kate and Anna are joined by respective daughters Martha Wainwright and Lily Lanken for the trad French tune Il Est Ne/Ça Bergers and Wise Men while things take a more modern turn with Martha and Lily handling lead for a plaintive cover of Jackson Browne's The Rebel Jesus.
Rufus Wainwright gets his turn upfront too, cosying up to the open fire with the evergreen What Are You Doing New Year's Eve, Some Children See Him and the self-penned tumbling Spotlight On Christmas.
Elsewhere the mix of old and new continues with Martha and Lily on Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Vinnie Dow providing the spoken passage to Counting Stars and an ensemble of voices doing solid duty on Port Starboard Sox and the ever reliable God Rest Ye Merry Christmas. Then mufflers return to the drawers and mince pies are polished off with long time collaborator Chaim Tannenbaum joining the sisters on a gentle, warmingly melancholic Blue Christmas. Now doesn't that all sound so much better than Tony Christie going big band on Merry Xmas Everybody!
Mike Davies
Midlands-born though of Irish and Romany gypsy descent, Ellen was inspired by traditional folk song from an early age, but then went on to form the band Saint Joan, whom she fronted for a little over five years. Since 2007 she's returned to her roots and started writing her own off-kilter folksongs informed by her wayward, unconventional childhood and the fantasy worlds into which she would escape. Ellen's music has been compared to that of Vashti Bunyan, but it actually seems to have more in common with that of current English-folk-inspired American nu/psych-folk artists like Pamela Wyn Shannon and Marissa Nadler.
Ellen has a bold and confident singing voice, albeit one that contains more than a hint of wavering fragility, combining its innate lightness and flexibility with a darker melancholy of tone and some really pained nuances; she accompanies herself assuredly on banjo, guitar and zither. On this, her debut album, her most powerful material – like the majestic, eerie He Is No Earthly Man and the prescient, Wilfred-Owen-referenced Upon Death And Dying – tends to reflect upon those time-honoured folksong themes, with The Wintering drawing the focus even closer and more directly personal with a moving tale of a suicide-note. Several of Ellen's songs concern themselves with transient characters whom she has known, loved and lost, while the more sinister aspects of her childhood world are evoked on The Fatal Flower Garden. Sometimes, too, Ellen draws parallels with mythological episodes (as on Teeth Of The Hydra, which has a quite scary Kate-Bush-meets-Linda-Perhacs feel, and Theseus), while the gentler Acolytes has an altogether more pastoral, if whimsical feel that recalls The Sun Also Rises. Outside of her own compositions, however, I'm not quite as convinced by Ellen's rendition of the purely traditional Lord Franklin, which promises well but ends rather suddenly before realising its full potential.
The musical arrangements Ellen adopts are staggeringly simple for the most part, with very few instrumental colours deployed at any one time (aside from Ellen's own contributions, there appear to be some guest musicians, on piano, cello, glockenspiel, harmonica and assorted percussion, but I was unable to unearth any further details); only some mildly obtrusive squeaking guitar action on the opening song A Watch Of Nightingales disturbs the peace (so to speak) of the settings. The biggest quibble is that at barely more than half-an-hour's duration, this utterly intriguing and exquisite album is over far too soon, and I can only hope that Ellen has a followup already in preparation.
www.southern.com
www.myspace.com/thecrescentsun
David Kidman September 2009
The fourth album from the Mancunian songstress marks a huge departure from the pastoral contemporary folk and dusty English vocals of her previous releases. Recorded, as you might guess, in Kansas (Lawrence, to be precise) with Mike West, formerly of The Man From Del Monte, in the producer's chair and sharing multi-instrumental duties with Mat Martin, it's very much old school American folk-country with a dose of New Orleans jazz and vaudeville for good measure. Some call it boho-folk, she terms it hobopop.
It may also be the best thing she's recorded. Which, if you've heard her other albums, is really saying something.
There's a political streak to the material too, whether in the self-styled anti-capitalist New Orleans brassy gospel swing The Profit Song, the good timing (yodelling even) Bonecrusher's sly metaphor about self-destructive greed that could well apply to US foreign policy, or the more direct (yet never obvious) banjo dappled carny shuffle Gunsore with its lines about 'bombs that splutter in the road' and 'angel ray almost seventeen swallowing up the bullets like sweets'.
These are finely offset by the personal with songs about loss; of a relationship (the gentle early Janis Ian touches to the acoustic filigrees of Sparks, the Baez echoes of the hushed, softly sung No Way To Treat A Friend, the wind and rain tearing things apart in Shame) or trust (an achingly pure world-weary Faith).
And if anyone's written a song that captures the itch of paranoid delusion and nervous breakdown better than the skittering Harlem jazz jive and gypsy guitar of Killer Wasps, I've yet to hear it.
But, if there's loss, psychological hives and self-deluding wanderlust (Alibi Blues), there's also the pledge of love to the burnished Southern torch sway of Sandman and the mountain music bluegrass of Lamb, the dark passion and sensual intimacy of Dust Devils' clarinet kissed, Yiddish jazz-blues moods.
Whether this is a one-off or marks the start of a new musical direction for McGee, like its predecessors it's got an automatic free pass to the albums of the year list.
www.kirstymcgee.com
www.myspace.com/kirstymcgeeandmatmartin
Mike Davies August 2008
Kirsty McGee- Two Birds (Park)
As before it embraces songs about relationships lost and found (Heart), life's anchors and compasses (the quite beautiful Thank You), and sketches of landscapes and seasons (Brittle, Static), the lyrics filled with images of the natural word, the music often conjuring fecund summer afternoons, and hoar-frosted winter mornings.
Once again featuring Neill McColl and Roy Dodds with Ben Nichols on bass, there's a touch of the Americanas here and there, Mat Martin's banjo rippling through the spiritual and secular themed Fresh Water and Lazy Eye Blues' leaving song and making them sound as if they were written on some Appalachian mountainside porch, while The Right Way Home a bluesy swing and Chicory's pledge of friendship evinces ragtime colours.
Not that this suggests her English folk roots have in any way diminished. Achingly lilting break-up song India, the trad flavoured One Star (possibly a suicide song?), a flute coloured Alchemy and (even if it occasionally recalls Townes Van Zandt's If I Needed You) the gorgeous open hearted Steady all underline her homegrown heritage to beguiling effect.
Veined with a gentle melancholy and themes of reflection, loss and endurance it's not just her best album yet, but a strong early contender for folk album of the year.
www.kirstymcgee.com
www.parkrecords.com
Mike Davies
Again resonant with her love of Nick Drake, Cohen and Joni, her eco sensibilities find plenty of expression in images of the natural world with insects and the weather finding frequent expression within her songs. Mostly these hang their arms around relationships, their impermanence signified in songs of leaving (Plane Vapours), the wandering life (Spit & Shine), nature's ebb and flow (Kisses) and of life's passing (Cloudwatching). The passage of time weighs upon her songs too, the changing seasons, day giving way to night, month surrendering to month; two possible lovers staring into the dawn sky at the end of a party in Coffee Coloured Strings and its what happened afterwards companion piece Put Back The Stars, sitting on a bench watching the tide of life pass by at St Mark's Place as memories trickle into its stream.
This all with a slightly dusty, pure, careworn and very English voice (shown to fine effect in the a cappela trad sounding Safe Harbour Song) and musicians of the calibre of John Spiers, Roy Dodds, Neill MacColl and Boo Hewardine (who also produces) adding their mandolins, piano accordion, melodeons, guitars and double bass to McGee's own guitar and flute work. The sound of barley scented summer and harvest autumn nights, caught between late balmy breezes and early chills to the air, it's a gorgeous album that marks McGee as one of the finest exponents of literate and hauntingly emotional pastoral contemporary folk.
www.kirstymcgee.com
www.parkrecords.com
Matt McGinn - The Best Of Matt McGinn Volume 2 (Greentrax)
Gallowgate native Matt McGinn, who died in 1977 at the early age of 48, was one of the most celebrated of the Glasgow songwriters who compiled what might loosely be termed the urban folk traditions into his own hilarious, sharply observed little songs. He took in his stride the foibles of the age, and coined a determined modern-day expression for his back-street politics through his embracing of diverse elements such as traditional ballad narrative and popular satire alongside more obviously populist sources like street-corner soapboxers, other music of the streets, kids' games and rhymes and music-hall.
Prolific almost to a fault, Matt was a household name in Scotland and in folk circles worldwide for over two decades, and many of his songs are still sung in folk clubs without their authorship being readily (or in some cases even correctly) acknowledged, yet his recordings have not often been collected together in easily available packages. Volume 1 of The Best Of Matt McGinn appeared in 2000 on Castle, and presented recordings he made between 1966 and 1969. Volume 2, the natural successor, collects together under licence the recordings which originally appeared on RCA International in 1971 and 1972 (the two vinyl LPs Take Me Back To The Jungle and Tinny Can On My Tail), with a lone bonus track in the shape of the showstopping Wee Kirkcudbright Centipede, which comes from a 1973 Moonbeam EP (pity the rest of the EP could not have been included for completeness, but let's be thankful for what we have here!).
Matt was not just an exceptional writer of purposefully humorous songs, as the equally perceptive yet more personal, reflective Troubled Waters In My Soul, the stirring chronicle Ibrox Disaster, the anti-pollution Tinny Can, the political singalong Yes, Yes, UCS and the pensive Tell Me What The Tea Leaves Tell Me prove. Notwithstanding his necessary strong local bias, his songs are wonderfully accessible and easy to appreciate, whether they be original compositions in the folk idiom or else rich parodies either of popular lyrics (Have A Banana) or hoary old folk standards (In A Neat Little Town); there was always a keen creative intelligence at work. Only one item on this collection is not self-penned - Jim McLean's Lady Chat (a Lawrentian rejoinder to Adam MacNaughtan's Hamlet, Hamlet?!), which fits in with the McGinn songs as to the manner born. Listening to these gleefully turned recordings again, it's tempting to hear Matt as a clear inspiration to folk-jokers like Billy Connolly.
The producer of the original albums, Pete Kerr, had rated the album sessions as some of the most enjoyable he'd ever worked on, and the warm, easily convivial atmosphere Matt and his pals created was tangible, with everyone having a ball. Interestingly, the session musos for the first of the LPs included Dick Gaughan, Alex Sutherland and Alistair Watson, but for some strange reason the performer credits for the second LP are infinitely more sketchy! Anyway, congratulations to Greentrax supremo Ian Green on this reissue, which showcases the remarkable breadth (and sometimes surprising depth) of Matt's songwriting and performing abilities. He was always a prolific geezer, and it's hoped that this volume will sell well enough to tempt more of his recordings to resurface.
www.greentrax.com
www.mattmcginn.info
David Kidman
This lineup may sound like it has the trappings of a supergroup, but the musicians wear their brilliant light under a bushel for this ebullient and joyful offering has appeared with all possible modesty. Those two legendary guitarists, Chris and Arty, have for long been at the forefront of creative cutting-edge interpretation of tradition (within whatever musical "region"), and their mastery of style and innovation has long been a talking point among discerning music lovers. Máire's command of the Irish harp is unrivalled, while her sister Nollaig's exquisite fiddle playing has long been revered for its combination of fire and lyricism. What a spellbinding combination of talents then! On this exemplary disc, eclecticism is the watchword, and when allied to playing of this calibre you just know you're in for a fabulous ride. It's like a home-grown Transatlantic Session, with Irish and other Celtic musics meeting bluegrass and ragtime head-on and producing something fresh and vibrant with all the spirit of the best sessions in town. The first four tracks alone demonstrate what a fine balance is being struck: Wild Goose Chase (a composition by Chris himself) has harp being pursued by guitars and fiddle over a Hispanic landscape, while Tom Cronin's Homework has more of an old-time feel and the pace slackens for the delightfully "orchestrated" Song Of The Harp (only surpassed by the majestic Lament For Limerick later on the disc) and the crew then jig out on a traditional set that would knock most full-time tune-bands into a corner. Chris and Arty turn in a beautifully understated, gently rockin' (fun rockabilly-style) duet variant of Merle Travis' Saturday Night Shuffle (with a middle-eight derived from oral tradition - ie Chris's brother Mark!). Chris's El Vals Argentino is a persuasive illustration of how several seemingly different musical styles can prove on closer examination to have much in common. Even the breakneck pace the foursome adopt for the Bill Monroe Gold Rush doesn't wrong-foot any of them in the slightest! Variety proves the spice of the disc with two songs sung deftly and precisely by Nollaig (I especially liked her take on Among The Heather). Everywhere you turn on the disc, in fact, the unstintingly high standard of the playing is miraculous, the musicianship supreme; all of the musicians are noted for their virtuosity and their fastidious attention to detail, but this aspect never allowed to get in the way of the expression of their intense musicality. Even non-guitarists will regularly marvel at Chris's superlative flatpicking and his tremendous gift for improvisation, and the sheer range of textures and moods Nollaig conjures from her fiddle (and viola) strings is astonishing, while the warmth and power of Máire's harpistry would melt even the sternest harp-allergy, and Arty's rhythmic inventiveness is but one compelling facet of his extraordinary talent prominently displayed on this disc. So if you want a scintillating and varied menu to spice up your listening, you can do no better than indulge yourself with the excellent Heartstring Sessions.
David Kidman October 2008
You'd not expect anything less than a super-charged set of sophisticated, energetic folk-fusion from Michael now, would you? In the opinion of many, he's the current folk scene's acknowledged master of flute, whistles and uillean pipes, and of course on this count alone he's unlikely to disappoint. But as anyone who's followed Michael's blistering career thus far will attest, his creativity knows no bounds; his previous solo albums, At First Light and especially Fused, demonstrated Michael's innate tendency to inspire the finest playing in all his fellow-musicians alongside his penchant for breaking new ground without really trying, and easily incorporating new sounds into traditional and traditional-styled musics without a trace of awkwardness or uneasy conscience, the end result flowing as naturally as the tradition itself. Wired takes the (occasionally ever-so-slightly tentative) experiments of Fused that degree further, and involves a veritable who's who of great musicians (such is Michael's drawing-power that they're queuing round the block to collaborate with him!), including members of Capercaillie, Flook! And Shooglenifty (Donald Shaw, Manus Lunny, Ed Boyd, Ewen Vernal, James Mackintosh), not to mention fiddler Dezi Donnelly, trumpet player Neil Yates, bodhránist JonJoeKelly and tabla player Parvinder Bharat; there's also numerous additional guests including James Grant and Anna Massie (guitars), while John McCusker, Alison Brown and the Scottish String Ensemble make but cameo appearances. A healthily eclectic, definitively world-beating mix, with mesmerising and unusual flavours aplenty yet never a feeling of "exotic grooves for their own sake". The twelve pieces on Wired each twist and turn seductively during their purposeful but almost casual course, yet always manage to steer that course with minimal excess baggage on board, only one piece (track 10, which starts out as a slow air then jigs along off onto The Desert Road) stretching out to over seven minutes' duration (and even then not outstaying its welcome). Strange Journey is another example of a piece that develops organically from a selectively lush, almost ambient soundscape through to altogether jazzier environs yet preserving the essential folk sensibility of the source stylings; jazz also surfaces prominently on Edinburgh Rock (track 11) - great trumpet solo there by the way! The ever-changing musical backdrop is but one facet of the appeal of this album, and unusual instrumental combinations abound, often proving uncannily effective (bet you never thought you'd hear mandolin accompanied by marimba - but just you hear the opening of track 9!), and even the presence of sampled vocals on Sophie's is an intriguing touch, an innovation rather than an intrusion. You can't listen to Wired and remain unmoved, either by Michael's inventiveness or by the invigorating contributions of his fellow-musos.
David Kidman
Tim McGraw - Live Like You Were Dying (Curb)
It's not difficult to hear why Tim McGraw has registered 23 US No 1 singles and six multi-platinum albums. On Live Like You Were Dying McGraw embodies the very best of American country music.
After a barnstorming opening track, How Do You Want It, which is the kind of defiant face-off where it's best to blink first, the album settles back into some very good country rock.
However there's far more to Tim McGraw than a 'good ol boy' whose handy with a guitar and a melody. And even though occasionally, very occasionally, the lyrics flirt with cliché, 'Talk is cheap and free advice is worth the price you pay' being probably the most glaring example, by and large the songs are neatly written and McGraw is a charming and engaging performer. It's impossible to not like the man and, more importantly, put your trust in him. It's a trust that becomes increasingly important as the CD progresses. When you get to the level of success that Tim McGraw has attained, you get sent the best songs and Old Town New and the title track are just two that serve him well. You also have the clout to get it just right but it's what you do with the material and the clout that counts and that's why McGraw is undoubtedly a star.
Strangely, as Live Like You Were Dying rolls on, there's a sort of deeper, darker sub-album running parallel to the love songs and wonderful country ballads like Open Season On My Heart. The cautionary Drugs To Jesus, We Carry On and most telling Kill Myself take it all in an unexpected direction. Now country music is no stranger to heartache and tragedy, it's built on it, but Kill Myself is in a whole different league and hits like a bolt out of the blue. Unfortunately my sleeve notes don't say who wrote it, whoever it was held nothing back and there's a real sense of unburdening on it and McGraw's performance only serves to heighten the song's emotional tension.
It's as well that it comes at the end of the album, because the integrity and honesty of the previous 14 songs answer any questions about the subject matter.
Whether We Carry On follows it by design or accident, will probably remain unanswered but after Kill Myself has caused the ripples, We Carry On ends the album, as it began, on a note of defiant optimism.
With Live Like You Were Dying Tim McGraw shows just why he's a country superstar but he also shows he retains a musician's heart.
Michael Mee
I somehow lost track of Wes's albums a few years back, so it's good to get back on the train with this, his first since 2003. Happily, little has changed in the interim, he's even back on his own imprint after 15 years, and, even better, he's reunited the line up from the Thanks For The Chicken live album and found his way back to the TexMex stylings that first bought him to attention with songs like the classic Monterrey.
He gets into the swing from the get go with Moon Over Ciudad Acuna with its mariachi brass and cantina tequila sway, keeping the Andalusian mood but taking the pace down to a dancefloor slow dance with Al Andalus And You and the melancholic waltz The Ghost of Dale Watkins, a homage to one of legendary characters on the Austin scene but also, noting that "I'm losing my friends one by one", a songs about the increasing frequency of mortality as the years wear on.
Mexico and memories loom again on the reflective Orbisonesque title track while, by way of lyrical and musical contrast, McGhee gets into his rock n roll boots for the bluesy swagger Don't Let The Monkey Drive, a non too veiled swipe at George Bush's apocalyptic foreign policy, while Shame On You Rosie takes a rockabilly beat to kiss off bad news on two legs with "a fine education" but not "a pinch of style".
Elsewhere you'll find spooky diners (Is Anybody There), sassy sleaze and sex (Ragged Annie, sounding like a bluesy Doug Sahm number) and not so best wishes to an old heartbreaker (Happy Anniversary), but it's the two part twelve minute play out Texas #2 that is the album's high point, a remembrance of and tribute to Roxy Gordon, the iconclastic Choctaw Indian West Texas poet, musician and storyteller who met McGhee when he first flew into Fort Worth and, over the next 30 years, would be mentor, guide, inspiration, collaborator and friend.
Part 1, Talba is a collage of sound recordings of Gordon and Grandma Bodell to a soundtrack of McGhee's cinematic desert guitar, leading to 25 Years On as Wes, meditating on mortality again, recalls riding in Grandma's red cadillac, the ghosts of West Texas left behind in the dry dust of changing times, and bids farewell to Roxy, Townes, Watkins and Sahm, urging Gordon to keep the campfire burning till they meet again. Hopefully that'll be many years and a lots more albums like this away.
Mike Davies, March 2006
Fledg'ling continues its programme to restore to the catalogue the landmark, highly creative and largely unsung recordings of exiled South African pianist Chris McGregor, with a reissue of the 1968 Polydor set on which he and his group were at a peak of energy and intensity. The album's title sums it up precisely: Chris and his group produced music so very urgent (and entirely uncompromising too) that you just couldn't ignore it. Very Urgent actually pre-dates by around three years the first of Chris's bigger-band Brotherhood Of Breath releases (and interestingly, it was produced by Joe Boyd (with engineer John Wood) roughly concurrently with the classic Island/Elektra Witchseason projects). The sensational, fiery group lineup that Chris commanded here comprised fellow Blue Notes Dudu Pukwana (alto sax) and Mongezi Feza (pocket trumpet), with Ronnie Beer (tenor sax), Johnny Dyani (bass) and Louis Moholo (drums), and their music was a joyful paragon of the rising British free-jazz world which they then inhabited, with all its characteristic roughness of spirit which took precedence over absolute precision yet never quite obscured its undoubted technical proficiency. The free-jazz idiom's archetypal unbridled fast'n'loose headlong rush and (apparent) cacophony is thrust out there in full force on the pair of central tracks Heart's Vibration and The Sound's Begin Again/White Lies, the latter especially energetic with its torrent of cascading saxes and tumbling drumming, piano clusters erupting like lava and spilling out all over the rhythms. The LP opens unusually gently, however, with the lyrically bluesy Marie My Dear, before succumbing to more bebop-like figurations as the music gathers pace on Travelling Somewhere. The final track, Chris's stunning 15-minute arrangement of Don't Stir The Beehive, is the proverbial bee's knees: powerful, dramatic and purposeful, with portentous, almost funereal last-post brass echoes punctuating the manic lashing drumming. A raw, exhilarating and extraordinarily life-affirming musical experience, unquenchable and unforgettable and not in the least dated. It's to be welcomed with open ears back to the catalogue - and in a most attractive new digipack too, with a perceptive sleevenote.
David Kidman June 2008
This is a straight reissue for the first solo album that Roger had released after a long gap since the celebrated 1977 Thunderbyrd. It turned out to be his last rock-oriented album, and almost predictably it charted well in the States. I'd not picked up on it when it originally appeared (on Arista in 1991), but it's surprisingly good, albeit admittedly not of absolute-classic status. The basic vibe is catchy but classy upbeat jangle-pop, with that unmistakable mellifluous electric 12-string right to the fore on every track – with certain riffs and figures plundered from the Byrds back-catalogue, inevitably. And Roger's trademark smooth-but-expressive vocals give the songs (mostly McGuinn originals) a yearningly timeless aura, whatever their topic (The Trees Are All Gone through to Without Your Love). Roger commands a stellar backing-crew (including Tom Petty, Benmont Tench, John Jorgenson and Michael Thompson) and there are guest backing-vocal appearances from David Crosby and Chris Hillman, and Elvis Costello (on his own You Bowed Down). Production values are high and the set sounds great (tho' we could've done without the gimmicks on Car Phone). Altogether it's an appealing set, and sure worth reviving.
David Kidman April 2009
Treasures from the Folk Den is a collection of tradition folk songs, played acoustically with 12 and 6-string guitars, banjo, violin and dulcimer, with guests including Joan Baez, Tommy Makem, Pete Seeger, Odetta and Judy Collins. Wagoner's Lad, Nottamun Town, Finnigan's Wake, Alabama Bound, Whiskey in the Jar are amongst the 18 tracks on the album (plus an eight minute hidden track). The songs are recorded in one take. The feeling is of a songwriters circle: different lead instruments and singers alternating and providing harmonies for each other. The inimitable Pete Seeger features strongly and many will want this album for that alone.
This collection has come out of what is now McGuinn's passion; the songs he's collected for his Folk Den Web Page. Using the Web to preserve and continue the folk tradition - the telling of stories and singing of songs - he's amassed a wealth of songs to share with anyone who visits his website. Since 1995, a "new" folk song has been uploaded every month and each can be heard and downloaded via Real Audio. His Folk Den Web Page is an important addition to our musical and cultural heritage.
Here is Ex-Byrds Roger McGuinn, with the signature Rickenbacker 12-string and instantly recognisable voice; the songwriter of such hits as Mr Spaceman, Eight Miles High and Fifth Dimension, and a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, with a low-key and very personal project. You have to admire the man and what he's doing as you enjoy this very special collection of wonderful folk performances. I found it utterly compelling.
Sue Cavendish
David Kidman August 2007
David Kidman July 2009
Ayrshire-based Maggie MacInnes comes from a long line of Gaelic singers from the Hebridean island of Barra, her mother being the celebrated Flora MacNeil. She is also a gifted exponent of the clarsach. Formerly a member of various groups such as Ossian and Eclipse, she now has a solo career, and Spiorad Beatha is her second solo release. It's characterised by her beautifully clear singing, exemplary in tone and diction on every single track, with shadings and nuances that are a joy to the ear, and moreover the language proves no barrier to appreciation of the songs (texts and translations are provided in the admirable booklet), all traditional arranged by Maggie with Graeme Hughes.
Maggie is also blessed with a varied array of interesting, though perfectly accessible accompaniments for the songs; these embrace clarsach, keyboards, fiddle, with on some tracks a modicum of percussion, and others displaying an unexpectedly "rocky" edge with Graeme's electric guitar or bass. The comparatively lengthy A'Mhic Dhúghaill 'ic Ruairidh, which features Brian McAlpine's piano against the uilleann piping of Keith Easdale, benefits from an altogether more barren soundscape, as does the ensuing O Hù As Mo Rùn Air (with the weaving counterpoint of Sean O'Rourke's sax). There's also some fine backing vocals on various tracks, from singers including Flora herself; a group of children also chant on two cuts (though with none of the cringe factor that normally has me reaching for the off button, I'm glad to say). Amongst the other fine musicians involved here we encounter Ali Napier, Paul Jennings and Capercaillie's Charlie McKerron. This is a very satisfying release indeed, with quality, variety and enterprise in roughly equal measure.
David Kidman
Any album with such a title would normally send me reaching for the bin (or at least hurling it in that direction!), but having been enchanted by Mairi's earlier solo albums for Greentrax I was determined to give this CD an open-minded listen. I'm glad I did, for although Tickettyboo's 23 tracks (all fairly short, and all sung in Gaelic) comprise songs intended primarily for children, the performances are adult and refreshingly unpatronising. Mairi herself has the ideal voice for this repertoire of course, and has the distinct advantage over other interpreters of children's songs in that she grew up on South Uist where Gaelic song and poetry was an integral part of play and learning. This album presents a generous selection of the songs which Mairi had featured and performed on the two BBC series Orain Is Rannan (Songs And Rhymes), and range from wholly delightful songs of nature through to gently humorous, fun songs and lullabies. A significant number of the songs are Mairi's own compositions too. It's a bit like that famous Donovan Gift From A Flower To A Garden album, in fact, in feel and mood, but with its own special poetry that's created partly by the sheer musicality of the Gaelic language. Mairi's alternating accompanists are Tony McManus (guitar, fiddle) and William Jackson (clarsach, whistles, keyboard, bodhrán), both of whom prove totally sympathetic and capable of exercising the necessary restraint and subtlety wherever called for. Perhaps the only drawback of this charming CD is the persistent over-use of sound samples on a few of the songs; was this approach chosen in an attempt to overcome the language barrier, I wonder? well if so, then it's a tad misguided I feel, for it's far better to hear the songs unadulterated and let the poetry speak for itself.
www.mairimacinnes.com
www.greentrax.com
David Kidman
Robbie McIntosh - Wide Screen (Compass Records)
Compass Records of Nashville has impeccable taste. Founders, Grammy award-winning banjo-player Alison Brown and husband Gary West, have signed some of the best roots music from the UK including Fairport Convention, Eddi Reader, Kate Rusby, Paul Brady, Clive Gregson, and Robbie McIntosh.
His musical pedigree as world-class axeman (Pretenders, Paul McCartney's Wings) and musician's musician would make him one to look out for, but this is definitely his best album yet - and I just love it!
His core band for 'Wide Screen' is one he's toured with and it has that well-worn, road-tested togetherness which so many studio albums don't have. The wonderfully catchy Rat In A Hole, in real Tom Petty style, opens this album of country rockers, jazzy/blues and Americana-feel songs. Throughout, Robbie's guitars (from electric slide to fingerstyle acoustic), mandolin and bass; Melvin Duffy's pedal steel or Hawaiian guitars; Paul Beavis's drums and percussion, plus Mark Feltham's inimitable harmonica, strut and shuffle along with joyful exuberance or melodic laziness. Drop-in guests include Chrissie Hynde and Paul Young on vocals. Look out for an appearance by Alison Brown on banjo and Garry West on bass.
The late Douglas Adams first released Robbie's instrumental album, Unsung, on his own Digital Village label. This too is available on Compass. Adams wrote, "Robbie McIntosh is one of the world's best guitar players, and also one of its most incompetent human beings, as anyone who has watched him trying to buy a shirt will tell you." He may have a problem with daily practicalities but he can produce a real stunner of an album. Let someone else look after the other stuff!
Sue Cavendish
Emotional Bends - Robbie McIntosh (Vandeleur VANCD 005)
No, this is not the Average White Band's (late) Robbie McIntosh. This is the other Robbie McIntosh, formerly Pretenders and Paul McCartney's Wings axe-man, and he's very much alive and one heck of a fine guitarist.
Emotional Bends is his first 'solo' album with band, released 1999. There's McIntosh himself on Epiphone Coronet, Martin D28, Fender Stratocaster & Telecaster (and probably lots more) and vocals, the excellent Pino Palladino (ex-Paul Young) on bass, showman Mark Feltham on harmonica, Paul Beavis on drums and Melvin Duffy on pedal steel; superior musicians all. The album was recorded analogue to give it a 'live' sound but it was digitally mixed. In fact most of the album was recorded live with very few overdubs.
The album swings along in style. It's a tasty, rootsy collection: pub R&B shuffle, country rock, Texas swing, hard-edged blues and foot-tapping cajun. McIntosh's Martin is all over the album, and quite a bit of Stratocaster, and his slide playing is a joy.
McIntosh has been touring with Melvin Duffy on pedal steel and Mark Feltham on harmonica and they are wonderful live. Feltham doesn't just play the harmonica, he's personally involved and 'dances' with it (well, it's hard to describe!). They performed a great set at the 12-Bar on March 28. It's impossible to keep still when that Jimmy Reed-feel insistent R&B starts working away at you. But the other side of McIntosh impresses as well - the gently invasive Homesteaders, laid-back country rock played acoustically 'live', is a stand-out song, and there were two fingerstyle instrumental numbers to smooth over one's creases. There are new songs too; material for a new album, one hopes.
Sue Cavendish
Recorded in LA with a band that included Lucinda Williams' guitarist Doug Pettibone on pedal steel and banjo and Emmylou Harris bassist Daryl Johnson, it opens with the title track that provided the project's impetus, a gorgeous spare and romantic yearning lilt with snare drum slow march beat, keening steel and soulful harmonies. If nothing else quite produces the same shiver down the spine and Gloria sounds perhaps a little too similar to Springsteen's I'm On Fire, there's still plenty to make your heart melt.
To banjo and pedal steel backing, Bluebell Wood showcases Lorraine's soprano with lovely waltzing wedding day memories, the acoustic All My Trust I Place In You sees them harmonising on a soaring pledge of enduring love, the simple guitar backed Walls features Ross on a song about not shutting yourself away from those who care, while the mid-tempo handclapping Silver And Gold and the plaintive country ballad Oh The Dark both conjure Gram and Emmylou thoughts.
Rounding off with the hidden a capella gospel Jesus Nailed My Sins Upon The Tree, it deserves to find an audience beyond the Deacon Blue fan base, though it must be said that Mount Juliet's postal system tribute to these 'brave messengers... delivering their parcels and epistles' seems unlikely to go down too well among those suffering with the current Royal Mail strikes.
Mike Davies September 2009
The family tree spreads its branches through the songs too, the simple acoustic guitar-accompanied Samuel Demster RIP recounting the story of his great-grandfather who went off to serve in WWI and never came home.
Featuring several first takes, it's a fairly rough and ready affair, Macintyre's voice often more concerned with catching the emotional mood than the right notes. But considerably more introverted and hushed than his previous work, there's a warm quality to its casual shambling, whether on the flamenco shanty Cape Wrath, the soft brown tones of the fiddle accompanied Breathe or relatively lush King Creosote collaboration Out Stealing Horses. the island life suits him.
www.myspace.com/colinmacintyre
www.colinmacintyre.com
Mike Davies July 2009
Hers is not an easy name to get right, but K.C. proves a singer-songwriter worth your close attention on the evidence of her fourth album received recently for review. Of course, since it contains exclusively self-penned material, one would expect to undergo a period of acclimatisation to K.C.'s personal style before reaping the rewards that are obviously there for the taking.
So it's a bit frustrating therefore that available biographical and background info on K.C. is rather scant (do we assume she's US-born and bred?), and virtually all the press coverage on her music thus far seems to originate in Germany! But it's useful to know that after a mid-teens baptism in the music of The Band, then Beefheart and Tori Amos, it was a meeting with Joe "Budi" Budinsky (and his record collection!) that would appear to have been the catalyst for the unleashing of K.C.'s creative muse back in 2004. Since which time, Budi and his bass, banjo and percussion have become permanent musical partners for K.C.'s own voice and guitars.
Her music is also quite hard to pin down as far as genre is concerned, for she hops and flits across and back over, and sometimes straddles, that awkward boundary-line between Americana and Brit-folk s/s, with shades of Leonard Cohen angst and old-time wistfulness thrown into the mix too, and musically speaking there are sometimes even mild folk-rock touches, especially on DryLand with its generally more extensive use of drums and percussion compared to K.C's previous work (albeit only on selected tracks) to provide the rhythm element.
It's both curious and interesting, though, that despite the beautiful and unpretentious sparseness of her music, the stripped-down nature of most of K.C.'s arrangements and the softly personal, intimate, passionate nature of her thoughts on love, lust, longing and despair, her writing can be intriguingly complex, elusive and challenging – disturbed and yet relaxed in demeanour. And yet, although each individual song carries its own heady, melancholy perfume and makes a strong impact during the time it occupies the airwaves, it can be hard to recall the delicate melodies therein.
DryLand's highpoints are pretty individual in basic character though: the purposeful opening title track creatively offsets a rollicking uptempo country shuffle with a yearning cello line, while Lovesick Boy is intoned to an eerie knocking percussion, squeezebox drone and spectral clucking banjo. A brooding, bluesy cello and bass pervades Man Of Gentle Birth and an even more stealthy tread informs To The Ground, whereas The Shabby Bride resonates ominously with echoes of traditional folk balladry, Machine Gun Fire ricochets its muted banjo sparks to a jew's harp rhythm, and Mirrors, Spoons And Bottles is a deliciously homespun banjo-ridden come-on. The disc closes with the pained emotional kernel of Into The Killerstorm. After only two or three plays, the album is fast revealing its true stature, becoming a front-runner in my affections of late.
David Kidman December 2009
Back in 2005 I praised Andrew's solo CD Pennbucky To Llangenny for its more than able presentation of his own original songs on the theme of Swansea's maritime and industrial history. Andrew's latest CD, Characters, is by contrast a true duo effort in conjunction with his lovely wife Carole, herself also a singer of distinctive character whose voice more often than not well complements the sturdy timbre of Andrew's own. On Characters they present a well-varied and well-programmed collection of songs that cover traditional, music-hall and recently-composed with equal facility; there's also a keen sense of proud enjoyment in the duo's singing that's really infectious and positively invites you to join in with the rousing choruses they evidently like so much. If you believe in judging a book by its cover, then the first track on the CD will conform to your expectations, for the ancient music-hall ditty Down In A Diving Bell embodies the saucy-seaside-postcard ambience of the trayback photo to a T (or should that be a C?!), if not quite plumbing the depths of cheeky humour! Although this naughty mood surfaces from time to time over the CD's 53 minutes, it doesn't dominate, and moving on through the CD proves to be an altogether more sober affair at times with some well-pointed contrasts. For, enormous fun though the sillier items are, it's some of the more serious items that provide the CD's most rewarding and lasting musical experiences (if not quite its defining moments) for me. For a start, Scarecrow (written by Maria Cunningham) is a brilliantly evocative song of ancient lore and earth-mystery, on which the apt combination of Carole's keening voice and Andrew's concertina does its eerie symbolism full justice (but the song's still gone straight to my own must-learn list!). Reflecting Andrew's time with the Baggyrinkle shanty crew, there's Walk Her Away, a shanty-like composition of Andrew's describing various dockside characters. The late Brian Ingham, a much-missed "character" from the maritime music scene, is affectionately remembered by Carole's very poignant rendition of his Love Now Let Me Call Your Name. For intriguingly, each of the CD's 16 songs revolves around one or more of the "characters", "good or bad, humorous or sad", who provide life's talking-points. There's both men (the legendary Childe The Hunter, the scurrilous travelling tinker of Too High Or Else Too Low) and ladies - from aggressive Portsmouth businesswoman Mary Baker (celebrated in a lively shanty-like composition by Carole) and safety campaigner Big Lil from Hull, to "Harriet Lane", which (you'd never have guessed!) turns out to be the nickname for an early variety of Spam much favoured by ships' crews! Some rather more familiar characters appear in Kipling's Smugglers' Song and Colin Wilkie's Icy Acres (here done at a suitably celebratory, and welcomingly non-lugubrious, tempo for a change). And there's a small cast of characters accompanying the duo on parts of this record: Andy Baker (guitar), Ken Simpson (mandolin, fiddle) and a three-piece female chorus. As singers, both Andrew and Carole have by and large chosen songs that suit both their temperament and the particular qualities of their voices: Andrew's combination of robustness and gentle passion are captured well by the full-toned recording, although on Butterflies (Andrew's own wistful homage to the Swansea oyster fleets) the awkwardly wide compass of the melody seems to tax his intonation a little). Once or twice on songs which the duo sing together, I felt Andrew was a touch undermiked, or else Carole was too forward in the mix; that feeling of being sometimes overpowered by Carole may however be just a misleading impression created by virtue of the actual tonal quality (and strikingly clear diction) of her voice and the admirably close recording she's given (she can come across very occasionally as a slightly schoolmistressy version of Shirley Collins who's determined to make an impression to get her point over). No such problems with the balance on the CD's closer, the inspirational emigration song Tomorrow Noon, which leaves us in no doubt about the talents of this special singing partnership. Which extend to effective presentation skills: the whole package impressively exhibits a strong sense of identity and personality through Andrew's attractively risqué cover theme, the saucy-seaside-postcard pastiche and period-snapshot motifs accurately conveying both the naughtier side of their repertoire and their loving attention to detail which extends to the admirably informative liner notes.
David Kidman May 2007
Catriona has an even more wide-ranging CV than the straight title of harper might suggest: she's already recorded three albums with Shetland outfit Fiddlers' Bid (with whom she plays both harp and piano), one with fiddler Chris Stout's own Quintet and one in partnership with Chris (Laebrack), and she won Instrumentalist Of The Year in her own right at 2007's Scots Traditional Music Awards. Catriona's studied electro-acoustic composition as well as playing traditional and jazz, and even within the specialist field of harp music she's known as much for her musical adventurousness as for her technical proficiency. So Starfish is bound to be much more than just another harp-based album. For a start, Catriona features a modern harp of her own design, the Starfish McKay Harp, which is a chromatic extended clarsach with a unique tuning pattern, possessing extra strings (certain registers having two strings per note) and levers. Its slightly brittle timbre is well exemplified on the cuatro-like rippling motif of the opening (title) track, which points up the occasional tendency for the listener to be drawn to the bright, sharp sound of the instrument itself at the expense of the musical argument, but that's not a serious problem in the overall scheme of things or in the context of the level of inventiveness displayed throughout the disc – and in any case it only features on half of the tracks. The delicate Swan LK243 affords more opportunity for the harp's timbre to bloom, and there's some lovely lyrical counterpoint from Donald Grant's fiddle and the eight-piece string ensemble Red Skies which he directs. But there are no worries anyway when Catriona's playing is so bewitching, and individual pieces will delight equally whether taken in isolation or listened to in programmed sequence. Key tracks could be described as programmatic: on Cape Of Good Hope the tempestuous coastline is evoked by the turbulent storm-tossed rhythms, while the Shetland phosphorescence of Mareel is shimmeringly well evoked by the intriguing combination of Catriona's harp and Alistair MacDonald's laptop wizardry, and beauty and lyricism combine on the tone-painting Aval Moon. The intricately jazzy syncopations of the brilliant Greenman will be familiar from Catriona's duo album with Chris Stout (Laebrack), but this new treatment is even more exhilarating. Only on parts of Lums o' Lund, perhaps, might the overall bouncy, hyperactive quality of Catriona's playing be considered just a little too frantically driven, but I still found it quirkily enervating in a very positive way. The majority of the pieces are Catriona's own creations, the principal exceptions being two by Flook's Brian Finnegan (the coolly controlled contours of Little Impulse and the swirling, sparkling jig Forest Baby). Informed by the tradition but sufficiently fleet-footed to get away with dancing (albeit respectfully) around its boundaries, Catriona's music makes for a refreshing experience.
David Kidman June 2009
This is the second CD to be released on this enterprising Skye-based small label by the popular, sturdy-voiced singer from the Isle Of Lewis, and once again it contains a thoroughly accessible and engaging selection of material mixing composed pieces with more traditional Gaelic songs. At any rate, that's my own perception - yet at the outset I'd better say that although I find Iain's robust, sometimes quite strident manner of singing attractive and invigorating, it might be considered a little too forthright to suit all folk tastes; it provides quite a contrast from the altogether softer-toned female voices we've got used to hearing of late in Gaelic-language repertoire. That aspect of Iain's performance may at first prove more of a barrier to acceptance than the language in which the songs are sung (and yes, I grant that's an unusual observation for one to make of a latter-day Gaelic-language recording). Another aspect of the disc which I find intriguing rather than bothersome is the unexpectedly eclectic (some might think occasionally wayward) character of the instrumental backings on some of the songs; a significant majority of them are centred on the accordion, an instrument perhaps not commonly associated with Gaelic song accompaniment (Iain employs three different accordionists over the course of the CD), the first of the disc's two sprightly Puirt A Beul selections uses a melodeon (in addition to an accordion) along with flute, guitar and jew's harp, Togail Cùrs Air Leòdhas (a paean to the beauty of Ness) brings in the small pipes of Iain MacDonald, and the fun, tongue-in-cheek title track (which takes its tune from Buttons And Bows!) has a slightly gawky "homespun wedding-party scratch-band" feel with its dancing, prancing electric guitar, fiddle and drumkit. Allan Henderson's appealing, well moulded piano playing is also well to the fore on many of the songs, providing an ideally rich chordal complement to Iain's singing. Although I like every track, and appreciate the contrasts within the overall sequence, my favourite tracks occur toward the middle of the disc: Is Truagh Nach Robh Mi Còmhla Riut (a love song from Uist), with Mary Ann Kennedy adding her gorgeous voice to the mix, Mo Chailin Bheag Dhonn (another old-fashioned "courting" song with a melody very close to what I know as the Tiree Love Song), the beautifully simple love song Tha M'Eudail Is M'Àighear 's Mo Ghràdh, the lovely Gur Moch Rinn Mi Dùsgradh (describing the sights and sounds of early morning), and the elegant sadness of Tormad Moireach's lament (track 5) - the only song on the entire disc which Iain sings unaccompanied (I'd have liked to hear more). All these songs to my mind showcase the gloriously florid, soaring qualities of Iain's voice to best advantage. The final pair of tracks - a whaling song and a typical Lewis Puirt A Beul - were recorded live at a ceilidh in Fort William last year. I find the whole disc very satisfying indeed, and one which I've grown to love more with each successive playthrough.
David Kidman December 2006
Formerly of 80s Scottish mavericks and Kurt Cobain favourites The Vaselines, McKee' spent the intervening years variously teaching in Glasgow, recording an album under the name of Suckle and raising a family. Now she makes the move into solo territory with a rather fine debut collection of melancholic narcotic gothic folk that owes more to the Velvets than it does Nick Drake. However, despite the distorted psychedelic guitar noise and scraping violin that marks hypnotic opening track The Kindness of Strangers, the biggest influence here is probably Leonard Cohen, whose brooding presence not only haunts the sombre but melodic corners of tracks like The Country Song, Childish Memories, Limbo and Without Reason but, rather giving the game away, also provides the album's sole cover with You Know Who I Am.
However, where Len sounds like he's on a permanent downer, McKee sounds strangely serene, her world weary wispy voice as languid as it is brooding, the aural equivalent of trailing your fingers in the river as you float downstream. The approach does tend to lose its charms in the final stretch if you try soaking it all in at once, but sample it at leisure and you'll find there's much leafy magic to be revealed in those spare, cello enhanced arrangements and fine lyrical filaments.
Mike Davies, May 2006
Maria McKee - High Dive (Viewfinder)
A longtime absentee from the scene, McKee's spent the past seven years in Ireland and LA, getting wed, messing around in her home studio, starting her own label and walking the dogs. Now she's back with a new band and the long awaited follow-up to 1996's Life Is Sweet. Indeed, just to jog the memory, she's done a new, more tinklingly pop version of the title song that ably serves to show just how much her voice has grown in stature in the intervening years. And it was pretty damned sensational back then.
She's also been busy exploring different styles. The familiar country tinged roots rock she was making as far back as her days fronting Lone Justice is still evident on things like To The Open Spaces' hymn to the open road, In Your Constellation, Something Similar and the infectious Be My Joy (which also bears hints of the Velvets), but elsewhere she's given full sway to those Broadway/Bacharach/Sondheim inclinations on High Dive, No Gala, and From Our TV Teens To The Tomb. Love Doesn't Love even sounds like it could have wandered in from Les Mis.
And then you get the strident Non Religious Building on which she belts out "suicide, ever think of suicide" before the song builds to another musical theatre crescendo.
Sexy (We Pair Off),wistful (Worry Birds) and full bloodedly diva (After Life), it's an album that gets better the more you listen and forceful reminder of just what we've been missing in her time away.
Mike Davies
Lori McKenna - Bittertown (Signature Sounds)
Following her internet only third album, Kitchen Songs (named because she recorded them in her Massachusetts kitchen, presumably between cooking for the four kids), McKenna's found time to hang up the apron and get back in the studio for a fourth round of documenting the struggles and disillusions of small town lives for whom the future never proved as bright as high school promised.
Musically it's harder edged sound than her previous, folkier sets, electric guitar ringing clear on several tracks, accentuating the rasp frequently evident in her vocals as, drawing on the lives of friends, relatives and neighbours she sings of suicides (Bible Song), enduring love (One Man), the school geek turned rock star and the former bullies boasting how he's an old mate (Lone Star), laundry on the line (Silver Bus, a song about never leaving but knowing you could) and domestic abuse (Cowardly Lion).
There's honest sentiment and real romance in the likes of One Kiss Goodnight and If You Ask but nothing's sentimentalised or romanticised in her snapshots of a world of people trying to get by and make do.
Sometimes she'll paint in simple acoustic colours, Stealing Kisses or the piano based My Sweetheart for example, at others, like the chiming country pop of Monday Afternoon and the ambiguous feelgood Mr Sunshine or the percussion and lap steel driven jazz rhythms of Pour she'll pull in band arrangements to splash broader colours, but always keeping the brushstrokes firm and even. Like her blue collar studies, the emotion rings true, grit sprinkled with sugar making Bittertown a place both bitter and sweet, the ledge (as the song notes) from which you could fall if you didn't have another's love to keep you safe.
Mike Davies
Lori McKenna - Pieces of Me (Acoustic Roots)
Born in Massachusetts but sounding like she has the Deep South in her veins and vocal chords, 32 year old McKenna manages to fit a music career around raising four kids. Looking to find a part of life she could call her own, she began singing round the kitchen, graduating to parties and family get togethers before braving non partisan crowds in the local folk clubs. Audiences took to her songs about the highs and lows of family life and 1998 saw the release of her own label debut Paper Wings & Halo. Gathering a growing reputation on the New England singer-songwriter scene, three years later saw the arrival of this, her more widely distributed sophomore album.
With a nasal and adenoids twang reminiscent of Nanci Griffith with a touch of Alison Krauss, she sets the musical flavour and thematic concerns with the opening track, a ringing acoustic guitar folk country Mars, a song about her young son's dreams of flying to the planet that also sketches a portrait of comfortable domesticity with its image of the hole in the couch. With guests who include Richard Shindell and Jennifer Kimball on backing vocals and encompassing the blues and rock into her folk weave, she proceeds to sing of family, love, faith, life and death with an affecting open honesty. Never Die Young is dedicated to her mother who passed away when McKenna was just six, God Will Thank You is a song of everyday faith from the perspective of someone who should have died as a child, Pieces of Me, This Fire, the wonderful Fireflies and the simple voice and piano Deserving Song all mingling self-doubt and disappointment with a determination to survive in her own skin. And, just to show she sees a world beyond her house and home, she pours on the vocal bite and some reverb electric guitar for Pink Sweater, a song dedicated to James Byrd, a black man dragged to death at the back of a truck by Texan bigots.
We're a bit late catching up over here and McKenna already has a third album, The Kitchen Tapes, 10 songs recorded on mini-disc at her kitchen table, in the wings, but with the recent reissue of Paper Wings & Halo featuring extra tracks this seems a good time to start.
Mike Davies
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
Fiona's previous album for Greentrax (2007's Duan Nollaig) was a seasonal collection with a difference, and quite a groundbreaking one. Her latest venture, which is linked to 2009's Homecoming Scotland initiative, is arguably even more enterprising. Here Fiona presents a dozen songs of the "Emigrant Gael" (meaning those who had emigrated from Scotland over the past 300 years), performed in an attractive and accessible tradition-based style likely to appeal to new audiences as well as to folks more accustomed to the Gaelic tradition.
Fiona's wonderfully pure singing voice is to the fore, but she doesn't hog the limelight, affording other singers (Darren Maclean, Katie Mackenzie and Cathy Ann MacPhee) the chance to duet with Fiona or (in the case of Sineag Macintyre on the nostalgic South Uist anthem O Mo Dhùthaich) treat us to their own interpretation. And the arrangements, while undeniably smoothly contoured, possess a certain honest ruggedness and yet are very beautiful indeed while managing to genuinely stir and excite the listener and bring alive the emotions of the songs. The calibre of the supporting musicians, too, speaks for itself: Mary Ann Kennedy (clarsach), Fraser Fifield (whistle, pipes), Irvin Duguid (piano, harmonium), John Goldie and Anna Massie (guitars), Ed McFarlane (double bass), Ian Muir (accordion), Simone Welsh (fiddle) and the string quartet Mr. McFall's Chamber. The songs themselves range from older examples to more recently-composed ones, and from the comparatively well-known (Cuir Cùlaibh Ri Asainte, from Sutherland) to the unusual (Òran Chianalais, a homesickness-song written in Australia). Each song is memorable in its own right, but the opening Dùthaich MhicAoidh and especially Tha Thu Beò Nam Anamsa mark themselves out first time for an early replay. Fiona's fine rendition of the final song, Tilleadh An Eilthirich, is cleverly prefaced by a 1975 archive recording of its composer Archie Mackenzie (from Halifax, Nova Scotia), himself an emigrant (as is Cathy Ann MacPhee who duets with Fiona on this track).
As is usual with Greentrax releases, the accompanying booklet is first-class, with attractive design, full texts and credits, informative notes and well-reproduced photographs. Another significant artistic triumph for Fiona, and another richly textured feather in Greentrax's cap.
David Kidman September 2009
The third seasonal release in this year's mailbag is arguably the most specialist in appeal, although it still yields a small sackful of musical riches. Fiona's role is that of Gaelic Song Fellow for the Highland Council; she won the BBC Scotland Traditional Music Personality Of The Year award in 2004, with further nominations for other awards in subsequent years. Although this recording has been made in response to numerous requests she's received for material for Gaelic medium classes in Scottish schools to work with, Fiona's also managed to make it a perfectly listenable experience in its own right. The first of the two discs presents melodic carols and songs, with varying levels of accompaniment (though often centering around a keyboard or two); it contains Fiona's crystal-clear Gaelic-language renditions of both traditional and contemporary Scottish Gaelic Christmas songs and carols. Some, notably those with the more sparing accompaniment, are very beautiful indeed - I particularly liked Biodh An Trianaid Ga Moladh (Praised Be The Trinity) from Eriskay and Taladh Chriosda (both with James Graham harmonising), and New Year Song (on which Fiona is accompanied by just Katie Mackenzie's clarsach), also How Glorious The News (with Simone Welsh's lyrical fiddle backing), The Virgin Mary's Hymn from Barra and the various acappella items such as Great Christmas Night. Disc 2 comprises 17 short songs for children and young people, varying from hymns and ballads to a couple of fun items; some of these are given quite full musical settings, which can be stimulating (Christmas Song and He Is Coming, which sound a bit like rocked-up mouth music) or rather charming (the gently countryesque The Star and the jolly We Made A Snowman Today), although one or two are mildly glutinous. The full-blown rock arrangement given to the Eilidh Mackenzie Gaelic translation of Leonard Cohen's Halleluiah forms a decent finale to Disc 1, but I did find the arrangements given to pieces like Silent Night and In the Bleak Midwinter somewhat sickly by comparison. It's a pity that Karen Matheson's guest vocal expertise is wasted on one such piece out of her two contributions - however, the performances of other guest musicians, including John Goldie, Ed Mcfarlane, Hamish Napier and Gary Innes, redeem matters considerably, and quality is assured. There seem to be some uncharacteristic lapses in accuracy with the listed credits on the back of the booklet, however, which do rather undermine the admirable rationale of presenting such details. The majority of the settings are tasteful and musically credible, but there's sometimes a nagging feeling that perhaps Fiona is here trying just a little too hard to be all things to all men, so to speak, with this release, and as a result it neither completely satisfies the traditionalist who appreciates the starker approach nor the more commercially "friendly" listener used to the "TV Christmas", but Fiona's to be congratulated for her enterprise in presenting two whole discs of Christmas music sung in the Gaelic language, performed so vitally.
David Kidman December 2007
This is young UK blues guitarist Scott McKeon's debut album and he could not have a better label than Provogue to nurture his burgeoning talent. The opener, Shot Down, shows that Scott McKeon is a rising star in the blues world and he's already been listed as one of the best 30 blues players in the world on Google. This is a raucous opener with hints of 60s R&B and supercharged guitar. Honey Baby is a classic 12 bar blues and ace guitarist McKeon really knows how to crank it up. The driving blues rock of I Used To Have Something allows him to rip it up on the solo and he grinds out another one with more guitar excellence on the eponymous title track.
All The Same is slower than most so far but its powerful Kansas stylings make it stand out in its own rite. The slashing guitar and pounding beat is fast becoming a trademark and this is highlighted on I Can See Through You. Last Thing I Do is a slow, choppy blues and finally, his voice comes into its own. The pronounced solo is effective and the whole thing builds to an ear-splitting crescendo, although my daughter, the music student, will tell me that it is not a crescendo but, in fact, something completely different. Cool Lookin' Woman is acoustic based blues rock and is sheer class with Jesse Davey guesting on the guitar solo. McKeon shows his grungier side with the grinding rock of Maybe. The sky is the limit for this guy and he just seems to lose himself in the music when he plays. He finishes with Fuzz Six Six Six and you can just stomp your way through this wonderful instrumental.
At the age of 21, Scott McKeon may have a long way to go but what a start this is to his journey.
www.scottmckeon.com
www.myspace.com/scottmckeon
David Blue March 2007
What can I tell you, I've been a sucker for the lesbian Massachusetts multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter ethnomusicologist since I first heard her sophomore album, Distillation, on its belated UK release a few years back. Since then, although I've yet to track down a copy of her debut or the even harder to find Live On KCRW EP and available at gigs only Small Deviant Things collection of early material, I've eagerly acquired every new album and never been disappointed.
Now released via Ani di Franco's label, this is her eighth release and, arguably, her best yet as, recorded independently without label pressures, it gathers her familiar cocktail of pop, folk, jazz, swing, cabaret and tin pan alley and stirs in some new playful, sly magic. I've had it on the car CD player for a month and everytime I hear it it sounds fresh and new nuances and novel little sonic quirks in Sam Kassirer's production reveal themselves.
To A Hammer opens with pizzicato strings and sounds a little like a classical gavotte as McKeown skips through an almost childlike love song lyric about devotion that ends on the wonderful like 'to a hammer everything is a nail'.
Percussion skittering like mice tap dancing, Santa Cruz is a buoyant pop song before the simple You Sailor heads into folk territory with seafaring imagery, a strumming acoustic guitar, woodwind and vibes. Another offkilter romantic lyric, the shuffling swishy Foxes has a slight cabaret vibe, a gorgeous sunkissed chorus and all manner of sonic colours adding to the good to be alive vibe.
Taking the mood to its polar opposite (Put The Fun Back In) The Funeral conjures the terror of being buried alive to, as the press release puts it, "a dark river of smothering murmurs and the hiss of subway grates". It's a mesmerising number, a slow bossa rhythm and a spidery vocal while the 'I can't breath' refrain is surely borrowed directly from Dido's, er, I Can't Breathe.
I could go on at length about the pleasures of each and every track, but in the interests of time and repetitive strain injury from scrolling down, let me just offer a few brief reader's notes.
Spinning a metaphor about homophobia, circus acrobat romance tale The Lions has a burlesque tango vibe. The edge of a break up All That Time You Missed is littered with scratchy sonic tics that scamper around the track like mischievous sprites. The Boats conjures a cobwebbed cloaked Hebrew lament to a pulsing bassline. The Rascal bubbles like a playschool clapalong baked with a crumb or two of Shortnin' Bread. 28 (first heard on the live Lafayette album) ebbs and flows on a pensive electronic pulse between which bookends piano and percussion soar to the skies, And, finally, a nakedly exposed Seamless calls time with a cracked musical box motif echoing the Harry Potter theme as, in a bittersweet fractured relationship sign off, she notes how imperceptibly fused are the extremes of 'apocalypse and bliss'.
Effortlessly earning a place among the albums of the year, it marks a magnificent end to her first decade as a recording artist and a tantalising taste of a truly exciting future.
www.erinmckeown.com
www.myspace.com/erinmckeown
Mike Davies November 2009
What's the point of being a ethnomusicologist if you can't take some time out to record an album of the sort of songs that have influenced your own mash of pop, folk, New Orleans jazz, blues and tin pan alley? Which is exactly what the Massachusetts born McKeown's done here. Reaching into her collection of favourite tunes from the 30s to the 50s, from Broadway to the silver screen, she kicks things off with a cover of seminal influence Judy Garland classic Get Happy and works her way through such jazzy evergreens as Paper Moon, Something's Gotta Give, Just One of Those Things and Coucou.
Being a purist, she's mercifully resisted doing a Rod and crushing the material with big brassy band arrangements, instead she keeps things simple and acoustic with brushed drums, upright bass, piano and the occasional clarinet or trumpet. She's played around with the arrangements too, giving Paper Moon a dub calypso click, turning Anita O'Day's 1941 big band nugget Thanks For The Boogie Ride into the sort of rockabilly knees up the title suggests while Just One Of Those Things is slowed down to a prowl, laced with electric organ.
The feel of 50s lounge bars, cocktail shakers behind the bar, comes across strong on Sing you Sinners and Rhode Island Is Famous For You, both sounding like they've just stepped straight out of some Garland musical soundtrack. There's a self-penned number in there too, but unless you happen to be conversant with the collected works of Porter, Mercer, Harling, and Arlen, it says much for her affinity for the era that you'd be hard put to readily identify it among the archive gems.
To be honest, the production does rather expose her voice, which it must be said lacks the beef of a Blossom Dearie or a Rosemary Clooney, but there's no denying this is a infectious fun for anyone who wants to cut an old fashioned rug or two.
Mike Davies November 2006
This warm-voiced (and equally warm-hearted) Canadian singer-songwriter made a big impression when he last toured the UK just a couple of years ago, and his return visit this autumn is prefaced by the release of a new CD. For those who are new to Dan's music, and have been won over by his charms but hitherto unable to purchase all of his previous five CDs, Just Another Day will provide an ideal opportunity to catch up, for it's a retrospective collection of sorts.
But - I'll point out at once - it's not a best-of set that's been hastily-cobbled to make a fast buck. Basically, the story is that after getting so much positive feedback about his 2005 album Fields Of Dreams And Glory, especially in respect of Paul Mills' sympathetic production, Dan decided to revisit some of his older songs in Paul's company, employing the FOD&G backing musicians (and additionally Cindy Church for some gorgeous backing vocals). So, among Just Another Day's 14 tracks we find two songs taken from Dan's 1995 CD Chasing Sunsets, four from 1997's Between Wind And Water, five from 2000's Songs From The Hearth and two from 2002's Minstrel In The Rain. The remaining pair of songs (The Man Of Her Dreams and the title track) are recent compositions, newly-recorded - and beautiful songs they are too. (Lest you now suspect my arithmetic, I must point out that one song, Sailmaker, has already "double-counted" by appearing separately on two of Dan's albums!) The assemblage of this new collection has been an important exercise in that it makes for a cohesive sequence of material that demonstrates of the sheer consistency and quality of Dan's writing over a span of nearly 20 years. These songs have neither lost their power to move, nor their enchantment: they concern events, people and matters that have continued to inspire Dan over the years, however jaded the passage of time has otherwise made things seem.
The CD's bookends - the magical title song and the closer Simple Things - sum up Dan's philosophy admirably. Between these, we're treated to some stirring narrative songs (The Captain And The Queen, Mystery Of Oak Island), powerful commentaries on lost ways of life (Sailmaker, When The Under-run Is Done), touching personal reminiscences (Remember Me, Back To You, This House), and even a modern shanty (Before the Day Is Done), done in multitracked acappella by Dan himself. These new versions are absolutely ideal, the accessible and genuinely concordant settings perfect for conveying the gentle beauty and humanity of Dan's writing and fully complementing his own singing and guitar. I've revisited the earlier recordings myself of late, and although none of those old records is below-par by any means, in all cases the new version is an improvement (albeit sometimes only marginal) in communicating the essence of the song. The mellower maturity, and yet more expressive quality, of Dan's own singing now makes the 1995 tracks in particular sound undercharacterised, and some of the earlier arrangements seem distractingly busy in inner detail. But the humour of Nova Scotia For Sale/Sold seems somehow better pointed in this latest, more jaunty rendition, and Change For The Better, though shorn of its attractive instrumental prelude, is more tellingly articulated on the new recording. This House is also much more tender vocally, and benefits from the fuller instrumentation on the new disc. And yet, while it's hard to recapture the rugged innocence of the BW&W version of Sailmaker, the new version has an altogether more wistful tinge, which is equally valid. So, even if you already have some (or maybe all) of Dan's earlier CDs, I certainly wouldn't hesitate in getting this new primer. And do catch Dan on his next UK tour, this autumn.
David Kidman August 2008
Winner of the Scots Traditional Music Award for Up and Coming Artist of the Year, 2007, Maeve's a striking young singer with a strong-toned but quite gorgeous voice, who sings with equal facility in both English and Gaelic on this her debut CD (even more amazing when you learn that she's not a native Gaelic speaker). Her vocal approach is well matched by an elegant, thoroughly contemporary musical backdrop courtesy of bassist and producer Duncan Lyall with colleagues Ali Hutton (guitar, pipes, whistle), Martin O'Neill (percussion) and Patsy Reid (fiddle, viola, cello) - a backdrop which in a fresh, direct and upfront manner enhances the drama in Maeve's vocal performances. Maeve's liner note dedicates the CD to "three gutsy, inspiring women", and those adjectives could well be used to define Maeve's own singing here; I particularly enjoyed her take on the waulking songs Ho Ro Hùg O Hùg O and Mac Iain 'ic Sheumais, although her way with ballads like The Cruel Brother, The Diver Boy and Silver Dagger (whence the CD's title comes) is also very persuasive, as is her spicy, episodic treatment of the puirt-a-beul strathspey-and-reel set (track 9). Perhaps the rear cover shot depicts Maeve a tad fearsomely though, for her version of The Wild Rover which closes the disc is wild only in the syncopated sense, and it makes jazzy capital out of the unusual melody she learnt from Mick West. With neat, tight yet supple arrangements the order of the day (I especially like Patsy's intensely powerful string contributions which offset Ali's clean and precise guitar figures and Martin's well-drilled kit drumming), every item on the disc is a winner, and it's a shame that it only runs to 40 minutes in total. With her supremely confident ability to communicate a song to her audience, and a clear-sighted vision of just where she intends to take the song, Maeve's certainly gonna be one to watch in the future.
David Kidman May 2008
Hammered-dulcimer virtuoso Mac (veteran of Cythara and Pressgang, and prodigy of Jim Couza) and melodeon legend Saul (Edward II, Whapweasel, Faustus, Waterson: Carthy) originally formed a duo 12 years ago while both were with Eliza Carthy's Kings Of Calicutt, but only now have got round to putting out a joint album. And they make a mighty sound indeed (a big sound for just two players, one might say) – the unusual instrumental combination producing a brilliant and rich-textured noise, both irresistibly punchy and resolutely clangorous. The duo's crackling technical proficiency provides a canny vehicle for their sense of abundant enjoyment in whatever they play, too, while the powerful (yet also mildly understated) nature of their characteristic and distinctive musical backdrop perfectly matches the bold confidence of the vocal work. Unusually for a debut album, the tracks originate from three points on a lengthy time continuum, with recordings made last year (around half of the total) sitting comfortably alongside "digital restorations" of tracks recorded back in 1996 and 1998 (and I'd challenge anyone to spot the difference in terms of artistic consistency or approach). Of the disc's ten tracks, seven are songs, all but two of these being derived from traditional sources. There's a truly infectious forward thrust, a proudly gutsy drive about the duo's renditions, with an almost urban-folk-like demeanour to tracks like The Lazy Farmer. Methinks perhaps their Bold Fisherman is a tad too brisk and choppy for to be "a-rowing with the tide", and I doubt anyone could cap Martin Carthy's renowned version of Devil And The Feathery Wife…. but there's no denying the excitement generated by the duo on this and other similarly vibrant interpretations - they do a splendid job here. Mark Colgan (Mac's father) brings his vocal chops to British Man O' War and Barbaree, also contributing the tune for the latter, while the two non-traditional songs on the disc are John Martyn's anti-war plea Don't You Go (poignantly sung by guest Teph Kay) and Mac's (partial) setting of Tennyson's epic poem Locksley Hall. The disc is completed by three contrasted instrumental tracks: a mixed set, a strathspey-and-hornpipe combo, and the uplifting, ostensibly programmatic Emily's Waltz (composed by Mac), the latter tune featuring the wondrously fulsome sonorities of the rarely-heard bass dulcimer. Mac and Saul (or should we call them Sand And Soil?) have produced an intelligently dynamic album that with its defiantly different sound really makes you sit up and take notice while at the same time imparting a high feelgood factor – something we sorely need in these depressing times!
www.www.myspace.com/maclainecolstonsaulrose
David Kidman March 2009
David Kidman December 2007
I find myself asking why Dougie's albums so seldom get reviewed in the music press, even the folk music press. Could it be because his readily identifiable style is so consistent, his writing so even-tempered and (again) consistent, that there's nothing new left for the reviewer to say? Point taken, I suppose... So what do I say about Inside The Thunder, except that it contains some very fine new songs, showing that Dougie's writing is every bit as strong and well-crafted as ever. And that his mellow, easy rollin' performing style is smooth and accommodating yet, as always with calm waters, that very smoothness belies its hidden depths and the ruffled undercurrents of the thoughts within. Well over half of the songs on this new ten-song collection would straightaway seem to earn the epithet of classic Dougie MacLean, and some are surely among his very best (and this is even when we bear in mind that, like any songwriter, not every song he writes can be expected to attain that status). The structuring of the lines (complete with their distinctive mantra-like refrains), the phrasing, the chord sequences, all those elements are quintessential Dougie, absolutely unmistakable, the songs could be no-one else's. Dougie's gentle and compassionate, yet often enigmatic expression of life's necessary philosophies carry echoes of his earlier œuvre, of course, and continue to develop similar themes, but there's still an open-heartedness, a freshness of vision and purpose, that makes his songs continually attractive. Song For Johnny (from the lyric of which the album takes its title) is another of those incredibly simple but powerful songs stemming from mere snippets of reminiscence, a type of song that Dougie does so very well. Seventh Sea (one of two songs to feature just Dougie and his rippling guitar) is superb, and possibly the most archetypal Dougie of all the songs here. There's abundant beauty in the poetry of the stately, cryptic Into The Flames, and also in the less guarded optimism of Home; perhaps this latter song is just a tad over-scored in terms of insistence on rhythm, but generally the arrangements are kept fairly simple and undistracting, with a soft-textured rhythm section underlying the gently luscious acoustic-electric blend (and thankfully no over-use of washy keyboards). String textures are sensitively handled for Open Fields, and the more brittle tones of the electric guitar are kept well in check when used. I'm not convinced, though, of the need to add the sound of a vintage tractor to the otherwise perfectly evocative Strathmore. That isolated instance aside, the arrangements – courtesy of Jamie MacLean and including some fine playing from Greg Lawson, Gordon Duncan, Ali Ferguson, Chris Agnew and Dougie and Jamie themselves, are an epitome of taste and restraint. Though tempos are laid-back and easy on the ear and the mood is softly pensive throughout, Dougie's music invariably demands - and repays - your concentration, even if you think you've heard it all before. Inside The Thunder is another subtle masterpiece.
David Kidman February 2007
Whoa there, here's another of those hitherto-well-kept-secret female singer-songwriters from across the pond... How I've not come across Linda before is another of life's imponderables – she released an album on Rounder (Betty's Room) a while back, on the strength of which critics dubbed her "a rough-hewn Lucinda Williams", which on the evidence of No Language ain't such a bad tag, certainly as far as her songwriting's concerned. I'm not sure Linda's got quite the same kind of distinctive tonal quality in her vocal chops (yet), but she's heading that way - that's for certain. Her performance is every bit as vibrant, and she knows exactly how to ensnare a listener with a lyrical or melodic hook: in that respect just about every one of the dozen songs on No Language scores an immediate bullseye. The (deceptively) bouncy opener Love Nor Money sets out Linda's stall with some "right-on" universal commentary on modern-day values, after which the focus shifts to the personal for the storming, jangling rock of How Strong Is Your Sorrow, and stays right there even through moments of more politically-inclined contemplation (the plaintive mid-tempo Calling) and confident life-philosophy (What I'm After), and even the poignant heartbreak of the sad rocker All Around (which turns out to be the first song Linda ever wrote!). Linda's writing has a deep sense of awareness of the way our existence can be altered irrevocably by one moment of choice, a realisation summarised by the haunting Lives Change. Almost Alien embodies that seductive combination of feistiness and tenderness I associate with Chrissie Hynde. Even though there's a more than sufficient quotient of drive and guts in the more uptempo of the songs, I do find myself replaying some of the quieter, more considered moments more often. The closing Burn The Boats and the beautifully evocative Amsterdam Canals are particular highlights, and the expressive range of Linda's voice on these cuts is quite stunning, moving from powerhouse grit to soaring yearning and intense vulnerability, often within the same song (the title track being a really good example). Finally, some credit for the great sound of this record must go to the rest of Linda's crew, with production (and some of the music) by partner Andy (who plays guitars throughout) and fine keyboard work and rhythm section (John Whynot, Gary Craig and Maury Lafoy respectively). Keep an eye on Linda - she's gonna be big I reckon.
www.myspace.com/lindamcleans
www.lindamclean.com
David Kidman June 2007
As the hooky riffs and catchy melodies of Love Nor Money introduce Canadian Linda Mclean's second album, No Language, all seems perfectly clear. The country rock supplied by her husband Andy, dovetails neatly with a slightly toussled and defiant voice to produce the kind of songs which will make her the darling of a more mature (i.e. older) audience. And, while female country rock is a crowded market, No Language is robust enough to make its own way in the world. But Canada appears to concentrate on quality rather than quantity where its musicians are concerned and their music is never quite as straightforward as that of their American cousins. So while Linda McLean can mix it with the best, radio friendly rock is just one facet in the diamond of a major talent.
On No Language she sits comfortably alongside the likes of Lucinda Williams and Sarah Harmer, she's the kind of musician for whom the song not the genre dictates the direction. There is an unsettling edge and slightly off the wall quality to Linda McLean, as a listener you're never quite sure what's around the corner. With the haunting call of Where Are You and the rootsier Clouds And Rain, Linda McLean falls through the cracks of easy labelling. She excites without being theatrical, she intrigues without being enigmatic. As the story of All Around unfolds, you feel the need to know as much about its author as you do about the song.
No Language is built on a foundation of intelligent maturity, Linda McLean mines the songs from the seam of her own experience. The beauty of her life in the forests of Canada, bestows an emotional calm to the depths of Almost Alien. While Linda Mclean will justifiably find herself bracketed alongside the very best of today's original thinking singer-songwriters, she has a unique quality that causes you to doubt simple labels.
No Language is an example of how complete an album can be, when it's left to the tender mercies of the likes of Linda McLean.
Michael Mee, Editor Hawick News, October 2006
Which, accommodatingly, she offers by including a trimmed down reissue of her mail-order only and slightly more bluesy 2004 debut, Dark Dream Midnight, as a bonus second disc.
www.myspace.com/catherinemaclellan
Mike Davies May 2009
Although the daughter of Canadian music legend Gene MacLellan, Catherine's rapidly becoming a legend in her own right, being increasingly well regarded as a singer-songwriter in her native country and by all accounts set to win over audiences worldwide. I've still not heard her 2004 solo debut (Dark Dream Midnight), so I can't make any comparisons, but there's certainly enough within Church Bell Blues' twelve songs to persuade me that Catherine's talented, likeable and someone to watch, even if her genuine yet subtle approach won't necessarily endear herself to those who expect a more overtly emotional delivery. I found myself easily liking her songs, which nestle comfortably in your ear and inhabit that mellow, gentle world twixt country and folk (tho' neither the gospel nor blues that the album title might kindof signal). There's hints of the cool poise of Margo Timmins in her delivery, and hints too of Gillian Welch but without quite the degree of gothic backwoods heritage, also hints of similarly understated songwriters like Kathleen Edwards; possibly a little kinship with Nanci Griffith too, but truth to tell, Catherine's songs aren't all as immediately memorable in the final analysis - at any rate musically. Lyrically, however, I responded more, especially to their simplicity of expression in dealing with ordinary situations unpretentiously. The other drawback is that the songs also tend to be quite one-paced; here, only a couple of them quicken the pace appreciably, the rest just flow by amicably enough and sound good in isolation (but you can have too much of a good thing, right?). Catherine's voice is also soft and inoffensive, without any particular expressive peaks and troughs; tho' I'm not saying that's bad, since it manages to caress and coax its response from you rather. Her guitar style is sympathetic, simply phrased and fluid, but without terribly much variation in tone or attack between songs; she's helped out by long-term collaborator James Phillips (who's also produced the album) on further guitars etc, and there's a drummer and organ player on some tracks too, but by and large the sound is neat and sparse. I found that overall, however appealing I found each individual song when listened to on its own, my attention tended to drift over the course of the whole album and (try as I might to obviate this effect) the songs merged into one another unintentionally. I hate to be damning with faint praise, since Catherine evidently has much to offer, but it's hard to escape the lasting impression of saminess this set gives. Perhaps she'll come over more powerfully in the intimate setting of a live gig, who knows?
David Kidman November 2008
Heather Macleod - Crossing Tides (Leod Music)
Heather's a Scottish singer-songwriter with a strong voice and a compelling line in rootsy Celtic pop. Crossing Tides, her debut album, is tremendously accomplished, and exudes an aura of smouldering finesse within which the individual timbre of her own versatile vocal identity is the dominant flavour. Heather's soaringly seductive singing owes as much (if not more) to Beth Gibbons or Annie Lennox, or even more intimate jazz stylings, as to the Gaelic song of her childhood (she grew up on the Isle Of Lewis). Her own songs, which comprise all but two of the CD's ten tracks, are clothed in a dark and highly potent intimacy, yet are also bold and confident (a juxtaposition which her photographic portraits in the booklet reflect). Many of her word-pictures are built around a subtle yet insistent rhythmic pulse which embodies a kind of ebb and flow that mirrors the tides of the album's title, but I wouldn't stress this over and above – or at the expense of – the free-flowing character of the album's music as a whole. Much of this is imparted by the rich musical settings Heather has chosen for her songs, capitalising on the instrumental talents of Steven Polwart, Donald Hay, Paul Harrison, Stuart Ritchie, Marcus Britton and Donald MacDougall, augmented but occasionally by Sugar Blue on "scorching" blues harmonica, a four-piece string ensemble, and – last but definitely not least – Heather's own chosen "dream collaborator", that celebrated bassist Danny Thompson. The album's many moods all add up to a work that my choice of descriptive adjectives might make it appear contradictory, but you have to hear it yourself to catch what I mean; it's cool yet burning, dreamy yet vivid, etched yet fluid, drifting yet controlled. The only track that doesn't do much for me, disrupting the flow a bit just over halfway through, is the tongue-in-cheek jazzy Man Of Many Valentines (idiomatic and well realised though it is on its own terms, it doesn't seem to fit with the rest). After which, Heather turns in a hypnotic rendition of Richard Thompson's Baby She Don't Know What To Do With Herself and follows it with three standout cuts (the steamily evocative Red Mist, the Zeppelin-3-esque eastern-modal Home Strait and the compelling closer Weightless). Now if Karine Polwart can scoop all those awards with a similarly mature and well-judged product, then why not Heather too, for Crossing Tides is an exceptional debut release and no mistake.
David Kidman
Mandolinist with the Occasionals, that staunch Scots ceilidh band of high renown, Kevin here presents us his third solo collection, with the more than capable assistance of Lau's Kris Drever (guitars), De Dannan's Alec Finn (bouzouki, guitar) and Shooglenifty's Luke Plumb (bouzouki, mandolin), three tremendous virtuoso soloists in their own right. But the fact that Dorney Rock turns out to be such a highly musical record is a tribute to the attitude of the players involved: though keen to display his own skills (not just on mandolin but also on cittern, bouzouki and resonator guitar), Kevin is admirably self-effacing and refuses to dominate the texture even when his own particular instrument or line is at the forefront of the arrangement. Take the sparkling set of pipe tunes Ronald Cheape Of Tiroran, or the scintillating Norminator Reels, for example, or the Shetland Reels set (the first tune of which, Miss Susan Cooper's, is familiar to Fairport devotees from the Flatback Caper medley). The whole collection balances material from both Scottish and Irish sources (jigs, hornpipes and reels) with tunes which might be considered unusual for the repertoire of this family of instruments: not just the above-mentioned pipe tunes but the pipe lament Farewell To The Creeks, also a 16th century pavane, a sublime set of waltzes and a tex-mex cancion (more familiar in its sung version from the film Paris, Texas). I also salute Kevin's enterprise in varying his treatments of tunes having the same generic form - for instance, the swinging vamp of the track 11 Nautical Hornpipes set contrasts well with the intricacies of the track 8 Irish set. This is one of those charmingly invigorating and gently exciting CDs which is such a pleasure to listen to that its 48 minutes pass by before you know it; and it should embrace an appeal wider than just to mando enthusiasts: of Kevin's three solo albums so far, I'd say this is unquestionably the finest.
David Kidman October 2007
David Kidman
Susan McKeown - Sweet Liberty (World Village)
David Kidman
David Kidman October 2007
This superbly-executed and finely-recorded album represents a journey through time from the 17th century to the present, in the company of the gifted exponent of the Scottish lute and cittern Rob MacKillop. Rob's dedication to his researches into early manuscripts has already borne one fruit, the CD Flowers Of The Forest (1998), but Rob's deep interest rises above the driness and dustiness that sometimes accompanies a purely academic approach, for his expert playing, while intimate, retains one's interest through a winning combination of feeling, precision and energy.
The Healing is an apt title, for this is a soothing collection indeed, guaranteed to heal any aural discomforts, yet like the healing process it is also very stimulating! It begins with a series of short pieces for the Scottish 12-course lute, then moves on to seven pieces for diatonic cittern from the Robert Edwards Commonplace Book of the very end of the 17th century, many of which reveal an appealingly haunting quality of sensitivity not normally associated with music written for the cittern, and ending with two curiously strident, almost old-timey-sounding tunes. Then follows an undated setting of the Lowlands Of Holland, and a series of pieces for the mandour (a small mandolin-like lute) on which Rob's backed by the distinctive "skirling flamenco" style of rhythm guitarist Steve "Rattlesnake" Player.
The album then moves into modern times with arrangements of two grand compositions by Border piper Matt Seattle (it's interesting, too, comparing this new version of Port Joan Morrison with Matt's own with string quartet on his Border Sessions CD). These are followed by a recitation by poet James Robertson of his poem Nine (a deeply-felt response to the hanging of nine activists by the Nigerian government) to Rob's imaginative commentary on the oud, and the album concludes with a pibroch of Rob's own, during the course of whose 8½-minutes Rob sets out to (in his own words) "explore the hidden sounds of the lute… to find the invisible musical ley-lines which are timeless and which bind us" - and sure enough, the sounds Rob coaxes out of his chosen instrument are truly extraordinary here. What a fine way to end this intelligently realised, totally beguiling and abundantly satisfying CD.
David Kidman
The average fan of English folk music (at any rate, as represented by the mainstream media) will very probably not have heard of Tynesiders Danny and Joyce, although they're both excellent singers and they've been heavily involved in the north-eastern folk scene and highly regarded as performers and organisers for many years. Danny has sung with the Keelers and Pinch o' Salt, then subsequently with Joyce alongside Barrie and Ingrid Temple in the four-piece harmony group Salt Of The Earth, finally on that group's demise launching out as a performing duo in their own right. Wisely, they've spent the intervening years in accumulating and road-testing a distinctive repertoire largely unique to themselves, comprising what they term "songs to last forever" (the CD's subtitle).
I'm glad to see that these embrace no less than six fine examples of settings of Cicely Fox Smith's maritime verse; here it's mostly Danny at the vocal helm, reflecting his lifelong interest in, instinctive feeling for and deep understanding of the stirring and highly evocative work of that underappreciated poet. There's also a neatly-managed triptych on the subject of whaling, kicking off with Jonty Davis' chilling depiction of the brutality of that trade set to a perversely catchy chorus (Try Boys Try) and ending with Joyce's compelling solo rendering of Harry Robertson's Whaling Wife, with Danny's sensibly-paced version of Greenland Whale Fishery as its centrepiece. Elsewhere, Joyce takes the lead on Roy Harris's simple but harrowing Millworkers' Children and turns in a lovely solo performance of John Gay's beautiful love song Black-eyed Susan.
The bulk of the remainder of the collection is unashamedly traditional – a not-often-heard version of John Barleycorn is well complemented by that increasingly celebrated, if perhaps uncharacteristically jovial, drinking song by Graeme Miles Merry Little Hop (here, as on a handful of other tracks, Joyce and Danny are augmented by the superb ONT "house chorus" of Dave Webber, Anni Fentiman and Johnny Collins). Joyce's "bubbly" version of the Sandgate Girl's Lamentation is a delight, while special mention must go to an exceptional Waters Of Tyne towards the end of the CD, on which Joyce's daughter Donna is given the chance to sing lead with Joyce providing delectable supporting harmonies. Aside from Dave Webber's concertina (on one track), all the songs are performed unaccompanied, but the colours of the individual voices and their variety in expression provide more than enough to delight the ear and should "give you a clue" to the high level of accomplishment on display here. And so the CD's title proves cannily accurate in its depiction of a harmonious and well-produced collaboration between two fine voices.
David Kidman
Recorded in MacLeod's favourite European city, The Utrecht Sessions sees a consummate songwriter in his prime. Despite the Scottish name, MacLeod is an American, born and bred, although he now spends a lot of time in Holland where he has mastered one word - Heineken. The album was recorded in such a way that it feels live and MacLeod is in his element.
The opener, Horse With No Rider, has top class slide guitar and is an authentic blues in every way. It is very contemporary and he is in good voice. He stays with dobro and slide for This Old River which has an emotion laden vocal – this is what it is all about. MacLeod builds on this with The Addiction To Blues, which is more upbeat and shows a true troubadour. The Long Black Train is a familiar subject matter for blues and country artists and he gets the effect of the shuffling train to a tee - very clean sound. The Demon's Moan has another wailing vocal and the slide is, as it is throughout, top class. Long Time Road is bouncy and energetic with a very familiar sound.
I Respectfully Decline is soulful and mourning with a simple execution which hides the mastery of his instrument. He is a man confident in his own talent and this Americana is how music should be. That Ain't Right is a country blues with great finger picking, Coming Your Brand New Day is gentle rhythmic blues and Sheep Of A Different Color is a slow John Lee Hooker style blues. What You Got (Ain't Necessarily What You Own) keeps up the standard although he does lose it a bit on some of the guitar breaks. Where You'll Find Me is just one man and his guitar - lovely Americana. The enclosed booklet gives little insights such as the guitar tuning for each song and some musings from MacLeod. For a true live experience you can also buy his DVD - The Blues In Me.
David Blue August 2008
Smart and vibrant singer-songwriter Kate has shifted the focus a little for this, her third album release (it follows on the two she made for her mentor Andrew Calhoun's excellent Waterbug label, Trying To Get It Right and Constant Emotion, released in 1995 and 1997 respectively). On Feel The Earth Spin, Kate's avowed intent was to make a recording in response to those who said they like to hear her sing her songs all by herself, just like in the kitchen. I wouldn't take that as a criticism that her earlier albums were in any way over-produced, for they proved creditable examples of sensitively-accompanied singer-songwriter product. Feel The Earth Spin is thus a commendably honest record, atmospheric and uncomplicated, with Kate playing guitars (acoustic and occasional electric) and a little violin and harmonica backup; at the time of writing her own liner note, Kate was unsure what to think of it, but it seems to capture the essence of Kate's writing on a well-planned sequence of songs that includes just one non-original (Mary McCaslin's Way Out West). Strong and inspired it is too, as evidenced by The Annual Menhaden, a latter-day paean to the east-coast fishing community harvesting the small fry, and the poignant poeticality of My Baby Leaving and Shadow Changes; then the curious melodic sweep and emotional ambivalence of Cliffhanger might appear to carry resonances of Richard Thompson. Well, maybe at times there's also a slightly elusive quality to her lyrics, despite their basic immediacy and their attractive economy of expression. Perhaps, too, her songs are best viewed as snapshots rather than linear narratives - like these no-frills recordings in fact. Kate's delivery is really entrancing - her wispy phrasing and ethereal tone is pitched just right for the material. By any standards, Kate should count this release a success.
David Kidman
We've waited far too long for a new album from this maverick iconoclast of a performer, but this fulsome showcase is no disappointment in any respect. Setting off listening to it, well it's just like going to see him live - you don't quite know what to expect, other than that you'll be entertained big-time: stunned into heady silence by his full-on friendliness and innate instrumental virtuosity and his eclectic mastery of every musical idiom in the world (and several others besides, no doubt!), and by turns enchanted, provoked and delighted by his ultra-creative lyrics. Brave Faces also reflects Rory's live act in the sense that the guy's virtually unstoppable - you get the feeling that if a CD wasn't physically limited to 79 minutes there would be loads more music here. He shows no sign of running out of steam or ideas or energy even after 78 minutes! And that would be considered great value, whatever the standard of the music, but you've no worries on that count either, for these 19 tracks represent Rory at his most persuasive. 12 of these are brand new own-compositions, stylistically unpredictable as always but containing such invariably brilliantly characterised storytelling and thus absolutely typical of Rory's art. But even though Rory's previous record releases have always provided a more than satisfying memento of his live act there have been occasional longueurs and moments which haven't always translated to the harsher recorded medium. Brave Faces, however, succeeds entirely and keeps one's interest throughout with its dazzling parade of ideas and sounds.
The new songs are tremendously strong, almost too powerful to cope with on first hearing or even second. They make well-observed statements without ever preaching - Rory is able to convey depth of feeling and highly-charged views without oppressing your brain! - just take a listen to the jaunty calypso-backed A Cut In Pay, or the caustic irony of Cold Blow These Winter Winds couched in a deceptively gentle whimsy, or .the heavily-accented "alienation tango" of No More Blood For Oil. Two opposite poles of intimacy are provided by the potent global concerns of Thirsting For War and the beautifully intimate and affectionate Doing Time Together (the latter one of a handful of tracks featuring the gorgeous Aimee Leonard, here on both vocals and bodhrán - otherwise this is very much a Rory McLeod solo tour-de-force that transcends any casual novelty value).
Several of the songs last longer than 5 minutes, but not so you'd ever notice for not a word or chord is wasted or superfluous. And another thing I constantly find unbelievable (that is, when I take a breather to think about it!) is that however desperate or depressing the subject matter, ideas and/or lyrics, Rory's music is always fun to listen to, and full of interesting and unusual textures. He's clever but not clever-clever, if you hear what I mean, for he's got the skill of communicating immediately and acutely with his audience, you're gently compelled to listen just like you would to a good mate.
Rory's truly unique: a creative minefield, against whom a hell of a lot of other self-styled singer-songwriters can so easily seem one-dimensional. And that creativity extends right out into the cover versions (there's five here, and two purely instrumental tracks too): two of the highlights on this set are acappella treatments - the traditional Oh Death is given a chillingly wayward reading, whereas The Glory Of Love (never a favourite song for me) wins me over completely by being superbly inventive, fresh and Fun. Then there's the old Elvis number Guitar Man, which has Rory's tap-dancing bottleneck in full flight, while I don't think Hank Williams' Rambling Man has received a better cover. On the closing track, The Man Who Couldn't Say Goodbye, Rory may be obviously playing for laughs but it's also a perfect, larger-than-life re-creation of the man, his personality, his ultimate irrepressibility (the image persists of Rory lifting up the coffin lid with a cheeky "Hello"!)…. Brilliant, and definitely Rory's best yet; if this don't convince you the man's a major talent then nothing will!
David Kidman
The idea of The Maker's Mark was conceived at a guitarists' gathering (2007 Swannanoa) where Tony met a man who arrived each day with a different, equally top-of-the-range instrument; he turned out to be Paul Heumiller, owner of the Dream Guitars dealership. The front cover of this release thus gives almost as much prominence to the makers of the various instruments (14 different ones in all) that premier acoustic fingerstyle guitarist Tony plays during the course of its 15 well-contrasted tracks. Each guitar is lovingly described and pictured within the lavish accompanying booklet (Greentrax's benchmark high standard), providing copious detail of its finer technical points for the benefit of the guitar specialists.
But non-practising-guitarist listeners will still be able to appreciate this wonderful 54-minute disc, for it forms a benchmark of musicality too, imparting a genuinely beautiful listening experience that will greatly satisfy repeated programming. If you don't want to take it in the allotted sequence, then why not start with the breathtaking jig-and-reel medley The Rolling Waves/Martin Wynne's, where Tony brings a stunning flight of frolicksome fingerwork-fancy to these staple Irish session tunes. Or his superbly deft yet sonorous transcription, for baritone guitar, of the South African anthem N'Kosi Sikelele Afrika. Or his limpid yet passionate rendition of the grand slow air Slaibh Na bHan. Or his excursion onto sitar-guitar for the genially spicy Doïna/Parov's Daichevo medley. Tony also performs other music not necessarily associated with the guitar, from a Monteverdi madrigal to a Scott Skinner strathspey and a Quebecois reel (both written for the fiddle), but over half of the disc is devoted to the Celtic side of his massive repertoire, which proves no bad thing as it's impossible to get bored with these scintillating performances. For Tony continually astounds with his intricate (ie tasteful rather than flash for its own sake) picking, and the recording is nothing short of miraculous in bringing out the myriad of nuances in his fingerwork. He's also partial to having fun too, on the disc's splendid finale where he multitracks all of the guitars to make a veritable orchestra for André Marchand's Valse Des Bélugas. This has got to be one of the most enjoyable (and accessible) solo-guitar albums to have been produced of late.
David Kidman June 2009
The Meat Purveyors - Pain By Numbers (Bloodshot)
Attention all veggies! Austin's finest alt-bluegrass punks serve up another helping (their fourth full-length album) of their high-octane attitude-rich music. TMP bring the energy back to bluegrass, but there's much more to their craft than that, for it's not just a quick-fire dash to the finishing post for instrumental technicians, they harness a full-throttle punk sensibility to their reckless precision in order to revitalise a genre that can so often relapse into tired cliché. They respect their roots, yet relish challenging them in order to generate their own special take on authenticity. All this is achieved through the qualities the band's individual members bring to the mix: the first thing you notice is Peter Stiles' hard-drivin, hard-driven mandolin that'd knock many a seasoned bluegrasser into the rear stalls, cemented by the stormin' badass rhythm guitar of Bill Anderson and the manic slap-bass of Cherilyn Dimond, then ridin' high and lonesome above all that is Jo Stanli Cohen's defiant country wail – hey now, what a singer! – that contours so ably with Cherilyn's "mountain-punk" harmonies. Oh, and there's some absolute killer fiery fiddle work from guest Darcie Deaville on a few cuts. But TMP choose their material with care too, since they've a head start with Bill as their "house songwriter"; he makes a virtue of a real ear-catching, cheeky sense of wordplay to get his rants across, and in a way it's a shame that only five out of the album's 14 tracks are his compositions, 'cos they sure turn out the highlights. Not just the stop-you-in-your-tracks stunner closing cut Car Crash, where Jo panics audibly as her doomed vision comes to pass. There's also the jaunty alcoholic's lament How Can I Be So Thirsty Today? (When I Had So Much To Drink Last Night), and the breakneck anti-drug-abuse rip-it-up TMP Smackdown to contend with. Pick of the band's enterprising selection of influence-tracing covers comes on Boyd Rice's I'd Rather Be Your Enemy and Johnny Paycheck's It Won't Be Long (And I'll Be Hating You). But there's more to TMP than full-pelt tear-up-the-tarmac dash – Peter's own Leaving turns on the mournful heartbreak in spades, just perfect and how it oughta sound in fact, while Bill Monroe's disconsolate One I Love Is Gone gets the authentic treatment with the emotional level upped a coupla notches. These and other slower-paced numbers are cunningly spaced through the disc to give good contrast, and even tho' once or twice you might start to find the frenetic pace a tad relentless then you just focus on the lyrics and you won't fret no more, I promise! Brilliant, and thoroughly invigorating.
David Kidman
For their third album, Debbie Palmer and Stu Hanna have plunged into the deep end of the trad folk pool. Previous releases have mixed together trad material with their own self-penned, 60s folk-pop influenced songs, but this time round everything comes from a list of nine North-East songwriters who lived in the area encompassing the Cleveland Hills to south of the Scottish borders between the years 1700 and 1950.
As you'd anticipate, the playing and the new arrangements are stripped right down to the nuts and bolts with the duo relying solely on concertina, mandola, mandolin, fiddles, bass and guitar, perfectly capturing the organic nature of the songs themselves.
Although dates are unknown for two of the writers, the earliest material here would seem to come from Northumberland stonemason James Robson, a musician in the Jacobite army of 1715 who wrote The Pitman's Happy Times (here given a folk blues slow jog) while imprisoned in Preston.
Born around 1775, Henry Robson was a Tyneside printer who resisted the customary tradition of writing in Northern dialect, Palmer double tracking her vocals for Sandgate Lassie's Lament about a young keelman press-ganged into the Royal Navy. A little older than Robson, Preston's William Mitford's contribution, The New Fish Market, is an early example of town planning protest, his call to arms to defy Newcastle Corporation's plans to replace 'the wee shop that once held Jack the Barber' and other merchants with a new fish market, bashed out by the duo on strummed mandolin.
Born in Edinburgh in 1794, Robert Emery moved to Newcastle as a lad to become a printer's apprentice. He clearly had an ear for a story as, given muscle by electric guitar, Jane Jamieson's Ghost tells of the ghost of a street vendor executed for matricide in March 1829, now walking the streets calling out her market cries from the afterlife.
The hard times of the 19th century caused many to emigrate in search of better lives, and such is the subject of the melancholic O Mary Will You Go written by Richard Watson,a rare example of an educated pit worker who also mined a successful reputation as a poet.
The life of miners was also a rich seam for songwriters, and, sung unaccompanied, pitman Tommy Armstrong's The Oakey Strike Evictions recounts the practice of striking miners being evicted from their homes by the 'Candymen' bailiffs.
There's no known dates for Teesdale's Thomas Raine but, collected by Ewan MacColl and Joan Littlewood, Fourpence A Day, the album's most rousing, uptempo tune, refers to the money paid to the young washer boys who worked 12 hours a day cleaning the ore from the lead mines.
A bit of a superstar playing to packed houses on the North East circuit, Joe Wilson worked himself to an early grave at the age of 33, the hard slog of life on the road imbuing Little Joe, a poignant letter home to his son and one of the album's standout numbers. Which just leaves Take Yourself A Wife. A playful tongue in cheek tune given a suitably upbeat treatment, it's the sole female contribution to the album, written by Elizabeth Tweddell, the wife of a writer and publisher who, after the kids were grown, embarked on a literary career of her own, the song taken from Rhymes and Sketches, a collection written to illustrate the Cleveland Dialect. Not, perhaps, of quite the same stature as MacColl and Littlewood's Radio Ballads, but firmly in the Waterson-Carthy spirit and superbly sung and played, this is a fine tribute to some of the region's little known or long forgotten songwriters and sure to become a staple in trad folk clubs up and down the country.
Mike Davies September 2008
Since self releasing their debut disc, 'On the Side' in 2005, acoustic duo Megson (Stu Hanna and Debbie Palmer), have made a significant impact on the folk and acoustic scene in the UK. A combination of songwriting talent, stellar musicianship and relaxed but excellent live shows has seen them pick up many supporters, notably Bob Harris and Seth Lakeman. With such an excellent start, producing a strong second album was essential and they've certainly lived up the billing, 'Smoke of Home' is one of finest progressive folk albums in recent memory that stands up and compares well to the output of British folk/rock act Equation.
The title track refers to Stu & Debbie's home in the industrial heartland of Teeside (although they're now exiled in South East of England) and it's a piece that sums up Megson well, it has excellent vocals from both Stu and Debbie, wrapped around an elegant and memorable melody but most of all it has a touch of magic in the instrumentation and arrangements – it's a beautifully constructed album with refreshing and imaginative touches throughout.
Stu provides most of the instrumentation across the 12 songs, and his range of skills on guitar, mandola, mandolin and fiddle are complimented by Debbie on whistles, with appearances from Ben Nichols (Seth Lakeman Band) on bass and Iain Goodall (Equation) providing percussion. While the debut disc is excellent, it's a relatively simple and acoustic affair, but 'Smoke of Home' sees them pushing things a little further with a more diverse sound and range of backing.
As before though, both Debbie and Stu share the vocals – Debbie's voice is clean and pure and works equally well on the slow acoustic songs as it does on the more upbeat and full tracks; the harmonies when singing together (which is on most tracks) are varied and always tight.
A mixture of 3 traditional songs, 6 originals and 3 original songs based on folklore this is a great mix of songs covering a broad range of subjects including a ghost story (Sammy's Ghost), a tale of leaving home to find fame and fortune (Smoke of Home), and the obligatory folk song with a gruesome death (Lambkin).
It may only be two years since their debut, but the strides they've made on both the live scene and with this album demonstrate that Megson are going to be one of the best known and best loved acts for years to come. 'Smoke of Home' is an exceptional album and is definitely not to be missed.
www.myspace.com/megsonmusic
www.fishrecords.co.uk
Neil Pearson May 2007
Megson - Smoke of Home is available from Fish Records -
suppliers of singer/songwriter, folk & acoustic music based in Shrewsbury, England
Hailing from Teeside and now making something of a splash on the London club circuit, soprano voiced Debbie Palmer and musical partner Stu Hanna started out singing in their local chor, a background that undoubtedly went some way to shaping her pure vocals. While nodding to indie pop inspirations here and there, the core of their sound is rooted very much in the late 60s folk-pop, the opening Rose On The Stem reminiscent of Mike and Sally Oldfield's outfit Sallyangie or Renaissance before they went all over-orchestrated.
Their traditional influences are well in evidence on this debut album with five songs getting Megson arrangements and with the duo setting trad lyrics to their own music on northern homesick lament Oak & Ash and the salty breeze hued tale of Grace Darling.
Their interpretations are undeniably solid; haunting Welsh folk song The Loom showing off Hanna's prowess on finger picked acoustic guitar while a wistful reading of Butternut Hill's anti-war sentiments (Palmer's angelic voice soaring away in behind the guitar solo), the perky Maid on the Shore and the 18th century nursery rhyme Sandy Dawe on which Hanna takes lead all prove highlights.
They're no slouches penning their own material either. More Than Me is a gorgeous chiming break up love song that evokes thoughts of Art Garfunkel while a bouncy mandolin led tune provides setting for Freefall's snapshot of the daily grind. They've already warmed the cockles of Bob Harris's heart with the sweetness of the melodies and harmonies and it shouldn't be long before they're making further inroads into the awareness of audiences already turned on to the likes of Eliza Carthy and Rusby & Lakeman.
Mike Davies
Dogan, a Brighton-based second-generation Turkish Cypriot and finalist in 2008's BBC Young Folk Awards, has been dubbed "one of the UK's first Turkish morris men". An intriguing tag, but one which on hearing his debut CD you'll understand - though it's by no means the whole story.
Dogan, along with his storming five-piece backing band The Deerhunters, creates a unique Anglo-Turkish/gypsy-punk (call it what you may!)-style mix of southern English and Turkish folk songs, self-penned material and driven tunes from both English morris and Cypriot traditions. The album is a thrillingly original, upfront experience, brimming over with Dogan's unbridled enthusiasm for creatively combining his own heritage with a deep-rooted love for the aforementioned Southern English traditional music. It's hard to believe he's still 19!
Dogan's a stunning singer and violinist, exuding all the chutzpah and verve you'd associate with the Demon Barbers or Little Johnny England, allied to a genuinely cutting-edge response to tradition that comes not only with those artists but also with (say) Jim Moray or the Imagined Village project. The mix is compelling. His original song West Pier, for instance, penned in response to the tragic destruction of Brighton's magnificent landmark, is shot through with ample feeling for its heritage and culminates in a fantastic, florid improvised violin solo (Ozun Hava) that acts as a bridge to the bouncy syncopations of the dance tune Ceftetelli (common among both Turks and Greeks) and a rousing chorus song in praise of girls from his grandfather's village Dillirga. Dogan's other original song on the disc, The Raging Seas, is a banjo-flecked reflection on conversations with his grandfather about Turkish and Cypriot history and reminiscences.
Another high-point of the disc is the closing track, an epic rendition of The Royal Oak, sung with tremendous conviction and bite, which relies more on light and shade and atmosphere to build its narrative and employs some intriguingly unusual touches along the way. Earlier, Dog(an turns in tough, forthright performances of Wraggle Taggle Gypsies, The Lawyer and Seventeen Come Sunday, which manage to be both effervescent and respectful of the sources; sometimes these powerfully combine with original morris-inspired tunes by band members (Tom Redman or Tom Wright).
Throughout, however, Dogan's own enthusiasm is infectious and doesn't need to be curbed all the while he can exercise a plausible degree of self-restraint too, as here. The robustly rocking, superbly gutsy nature of the music and playing on this disc is acutely matched by its bright and stupendously forward recording quality. By all accounts we should be hearing much more of Dog(an in times to come.
www.doganmehmet.com
www.myspace.com/doganmehmetthedeerhunters
David Kidman November 2009
Melanie - Paled By Dimmer Light (CNR)
The first person I ever interviewed when I got into the music hack business, with her songs of peace, love and brand new keys Melanie Safka was the seminal poster child for the hippy 60s, her distinctive warble bringing new emotional life to Ruby Tuesday, her first UK hit. Inevitably, as the era passed so did she, her sometimes 'hello skies, hello trees' sensibilities out of synch with the new world. Her last significantly promoted release was Seventh Wave back in 1983 and although she's continued to record, her albums have either been unavailable in the UK or subject to the official secrets act. To be honest, I thought she'd retired, but it seems she's set up a thriving cottage industry with a whole clutch of albums, both new material and re-recordings, available though her web site and mail order.
She's back in the spotlight now - Radio 2 exposure included - with her first fully distributed album since 1989. I'm pleased to say she's in fine form too, her tremulously emotional voice still capable of evoking a catch in the heart, familiar songs of self-questioning, common humanity and relationships understandably now veined - as on the excellent I Tried To Die Young - with themes of ageing and reflection.
As ever, while there are moments of delicacy (They Can Find You In Your Dreams, The Ballad of Crazy Love), her folk hued rock typically swells to big music crescendos, finely represented here in the likes of Make It Work For Me, the driving pop You Call Yourself A Writer and the anthemic guitar ringing (courtesy song Beau Jared Shekeryk) And We Fall. Fitting then that, in a continuing tradition of recording solid cover versions, she invests U2's I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For with a rousing sense of yearning and spirituality. Seems those candles in the rain are still burning bright.
Mike Davies
David Kidman August 2007
One of the most sought-after major-label folk-rock rarities has at last been granted a proper re-release with decent (read excellent) packaging including fully informative sleeve notes and complete lyrics. Listening to the music of Mellow Candle now, it seems extraordinary that it should have remained buried for so long, for Swaddling Songs really is a gem. By the time it was recorded, though, in 1971, the group was on its third incarnation, with its touring activities including support for the likes of Lindisfarne and Steeleye. The group had always centred round the songwriting and vocal talents of Dublin-born pianist Clodagh Simonds, whose glorious harmonies with fellow-Dubliner Alison Williams (by then O'Donnell) formed such a striking feature of the band sound. The lineup at that point was then completed by guitarist David Williams, bassist Frank Boylan and drummer Willy Murray. Appearing on the Deram label, you could say the band was caught in the crossfire between folk-rock, prog and psych, and certainly there are times when you feel they've got the best of all three sub-genres in this lone album. There's a strident, Maddy Prior-like sense of drama to Dan The Wing, and the harpsichord-drenched opener Harmony Heath recalls Celia Humphries/Trees, while the classical predilections of Renaissance (on Alison's composition Messenger Birds) contrast with the theatricality of Principal Edwards Magic Theatre (on The Poet And The Witch) and the eerie Sheep Season. And yet there's a bluesy toughness and confidence about songs like Lonely Man, Silver Song and Buy Or Beware that tempers claims to any kind of specifically folk-rock throne, whereas the refrain of the pulsating closer Boulders On My Grave is the closest to Irish "turalu" trad the record gets. But for all that, Mellow Candle still don't exactly conform to any given prototypes, least of all in the peculiarly mystical nature of the songwriting. They really do seem to have developed an individual musical niche that, while seeming fully-formed, also showed great promise for a future that (alas) was never to be. (As a footnote, however: individual band members have gone on to - much later - produce some interesting music... check out Alison's Mise Agus Ise album from 2006, for instance, which reunited her with Frank and David.) Yes, Swaddling Songs is a neglected classic: trust me!
David Kidman August 2008
Katie Melua - Piece By Piece (Dramatico)
When you're born with the ability to sing like Katie Melua, they could set a shopping list in front of you and you'll break people's hearts singing it.
Having hit the public with her debut Call Off The Search, Piece By Piece is the album that sets out her future direction and answers the question can she get even better?
The answer's not too long in coming. Although the single Nine Million Bicyles will naturally gain the attention and its originality will guarantee its success, Melua sets down far more important markers on Piece By Piece. She was never going to be a rival to the rockier K T Tunstall and co. Melua has a timeless voice and here she has chosen a set of blues-based songs that set it off perfectly.
You could imagine her singing Halfway Up The Hindu Kush and Blues In The Night in a nightclub of the 40s and 50s, both redefine subtle sultriness. They, and the album, are a little at odds with the t-shirt wearing, demin clad young lady, she will find that classics come with a ready-to-wear image.
But Piece By Piece isn't some upmarket cabaret calling card, Spider's Web has sharp teeth lurking beneath the velvety exterior.
Huge natural talent was always going to secure Katie Melua's future, the excellence of Piece By Piece will simply reinforce her arrival as major force.
Michael Mee
TMTCH, remember, were one of the elite collection of bands who brought to the tired mid-80s an energetic marriage of punk-rock and folk/Celtic sensibilities. The Pogues and Oysterband (arguably the Men's closest original bedfellows) may have attained higher profiles, then and since, but TMTCH have still endured the decades well, continuing (with just the one six-year hiatus in recordings) to preserve their own distinctive niche on that honorary continuum (along which also reside those good people Urban Folk, Robb Johnson, Levellers and Blyth Power), by delivering their own special brand of politically-savvy, intelligent and tuneful anthemic rock-with-folk-stylings.
Devil On The Wind, the Men's first full studio album in six years (since 2003's The Cherry Red Jukebox), appears on the eve of their 25th anniversary as a band. A short while back, the band released a "taster" in the form of an EP of the same name, which contained four exclusive tracks, a rootsy mix of the title song and one preview album track. Now, on the main-course full-length CD, the full-on thrust of the trusty latterday TMTCH lineup (Phil "Swill" Odgers, Stefan Cush, Paul Simmonds and Ricky McGuire with virtually-permanent drummer Billy Jo Abbott) is boosted by a handful of guest musicians comprising TMTCH regulars Bobby Valentino, Nick Muir, Dave Kent and Tom Spencer, with David Carroll on uilleann pipes and Appalachian dulcimer, plus an appearance on trumpet from Chumba's Jude Abbott (on Aquamarine). Production's by Pat Collier, who's succeeded not only in capturing the essence of TMTCH and their sheer enjoyment in making the music together, but also conjuring a rousing, majestic ambience. For Pat's skills, together with the contributions of the guests, swell the basic TMTCH sound out way beyond the Men's trademark ferocious live attack into a handsomely accessible recorded artifact whose rich-toned, full-bodied presence conjures a wide-screen quality befitting the globally-conscious vision of the lyrics, parading confidence without complacency.
The title track's panoramic spaghetti-eastern sweep rides out across a hellish landscape on the first of three songs that concern themselves with the contemporary Middle East situation. Reservoir depicts a Gulf War veteran running amok way down yonder in New Orleans, while Overseas, with its edict that "faith will be the key", draws a thought-provoking parallel with the time of the Crusades. The latter's one of five songs where Cush handles lead vocal, another being Beast Of Brechfa (a pell-mell study in fear), but don't fret for Swill's on typically intense form for the rest, notably Heartbreak Park (which examines the effect of spirit-of-place on the collective psyche) and The Ragged Shoreline (an evocative Coast-style overview). Some other songs depart a touch from what one might regard the Hang-Men's norm as represented by the doomy power-punk prophecy of A Real Rain Coming (which takes its cue from a line in the movie Taxi Driver): for instance, the seductive (if somewhat idealised) romantic-poesy of the lover's portrait Aquamarine; the bittersweet, almost Gregsong-esque pop-country-balladry of Hard To Find and the wistful Mrs. Avery (a deliberate "what happened next" sequel to Dr. Hook's weepy Sylvia's Mother).
Devil On The Wind represents rather more than a return-to-form for the Men: it's a stimulating addition to their illustrious catalogue, and a clear indication of their proven longevity. So hang on in there!
David Kidman July 2009
The Mendoza Line - Fortune (Cooking Vinyl)
Born in Athens, residents of Brooklyn, and named for underachieving Mexican baseball player Mario Mendoza, the quintet's last album, Lost in Revelry, saw them breaking out into a wider audience and being deluged with critical acclaim. As a result they boarded the plane and went off gigging around the UK and, er, Greece. Their first time away from home, it spurred them to start writing songs around themes of Americans abroad in troubled times and of recent immigrants to the US.
In some instances this is just a reason to come up with a hood down road song like the burring hook riddled pop of Before I Hit The Wall, but most times it serves to set up the downbeat mood that informs the woozy Fellow Travelers with its veiled references to the way the country now seems to exist to serve those who can afford to buy, the short but tumbling catchy handclapping Faithful Brother (Scourge of the Land) where Shannon McArdle takes lead to observe how Americans aren't that welcome any more, and the metaphorical but fairly obvious rock n roll stroller The Road To Insolvency.
However, although Metro Pictures and the country aching Will You Be Here Tomorrow slow dance with a sad pedal steel, Let's Not Talk About It is resignedly worn down and Throw It In The Fire is 60s folk pop woven and twang guitar with funeral march rhythms, the dominant musical mood is surprisingly jubilant, An Architect's Eye swaggering like an alcohol drenched Stones, Tiny Motions a circling Byrdsian ringer, The Road To Insolvency evoking Armed Forces era Elvis and the likes of It's A Long Line (But It Moves Quickly) even reminiscent of the 70 British pub rock of Dave Edmunds and Nick Lowe. Mendoza may have had an undistinguished batting record, but the band look like hitting it out of the park.
Mike Davies
Is there no end to the incredible creativity in Scotland these days, I ask myself, for the musicians of that fair nation are continually finding vital new ways to interpret and carry forward their traditions in the context of, and representing, an important world-stage music in its own right (expanding on the pioneering work of Martyn Bennett, I'm reminded at times here).
This new collaborative venture between Mary Macmaster (leading exponent of the clarsach and electro-harp and a key member of The Poozies and Sileas) and Donald Hay (leading and much-in-demand exponent of the empathic school of drumming/percussion) provides a magically innovative, thoughtful and genuinely progressive, take on traditional Scottish music that is sure to attract a wider range of listeners.
It's not a purely instrumental album either, a factor which will definitely broaden its appeal outwith the pure-Celtic brigade. Now we all know Mary's a fabulous singer as well as a brilliant harper, and she gets plenty of chances to shine here in the sparkling musical settings that she and Donald conjure from what might imagine would be rather limited resources. The album displays a thoroughly skilful use of timbre and texture that comes from two musicians who really know their instruments and their latent possibilities and have the imagination to remain open to, and keenly and boldly investigate, new ideas (including the use of samples).
Love And Reason brings us a seriously invigorating sequence of music that journeys from a delectable reel composed by Vancouver fiddle and trumpet player Daniel Lapp, onto a pair of original tunes by piper Fred Morrison, a brace of Gaelic waulking songs, a curious pibroch by MacCrimmon, a fine song by Burns (Weary - The Slave's Lament) and two written by local Edinburgh legend Sandy Wright- of which the unequivocally simple statement of love that is My Shining Star forms the disc's final (and quite perfect) utterance. Highlights during the course of this wonderful journey include an enchanting little song from the time of the Jacobite Rebellion concerning the proscribed wearing of the plaid; the aforementioned pibroch, Lament For The Children (which eerily, almost cinematically, incorporates the sounds of children's cries - it shouldn't work, but it does!); Mary's delicate personalised setting of Sorley MacLean's poem Reason And Love; and the joyously rippling tune-set Waves.
Mary's in splendid voice, and no more sympathetic and tasteful (fully present but never remotely intrusive) accompanist could she have than Donald in her exemplary renditions of the MacLean and waulking songs in particular; they're joined by singer Amy MacDougall on two of the pieces (including the aforementioned Burns song). The whole album is beguiling and mesmerising, and I'm totally caught up in the engulfing wave of enchantingly inspirational sounds and atmospheric moods and texturings.
David Kidman December 2009
David Kidman
Cork-born Lorcán is a passionate young sean-nós singer with a confident and commanding, though sensibly measured, style which emphasises the musical quality of the songs in an often quite innovative way while demonstrating both a respect for and understanding of the texts. Sean-nós singing can be a bit of an acquired taste, I'll admit, but Lorcán's strongly individual presentation is both intense and involving without being austere or intimidating: deliberate yes, but involved rather than soporific. There's both intimacy and an understated sensuousness in his response (a combination which I've noted also in the singing of Dónal Maguire), and on some of the songs there's also an approach to decoration that rather resembles that of Robin Williamson. Unusually for a singer perhaps, Lorcán admits that he has often fallen for the music of a song and the sound of its phrases before he understood anything else about it. The drone of a hardanger or fiddle (Caoimhin Ó Raghallaigh), cello (Jane Hughes) or pipes (Mick O'Brien), at once pictorial and timeless, Pictorial aspect to the musical expression almost before the meaning of the words at times. other musicians play harp, whistle and bodhrán but each individual song in sparse in texture and two of the key songs are performed "undressed with accompaniment" as Lorcán aptly describes it. There's a weird sensation caused by Lorcán double-tracking some passages of the text of the eerie 18th century elegy Tuireamh Mhic Finín Dhuibh, only accentuating the sheer other-worldly nature of its melody line, which is at once epic and highly disorientating. A bit like the parallel-chanting of Tibetan monks, perhaps, but it sounds truly extraordinary. Finally, the whole CD ends most delightfully when the subtly mellow song Bean Dubh An Ghleanna glides almost effortlessly into an uplifting and gently sparkling Merry-Band-like playthrough of the reel Kiss The Maid Behind The Barrel. Sure enough, there's sometimes a hint of stridency in Lorcán's delivery, and it probably won't help that a significant majority of the disc's tracks are performed at a similar (slowish) pace, but personally I've found this one of the most captivating discs of sean-nós singing I've encountered in recent years.
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman May 2008
www.alisonmcmorland.com
www.greentrax.com
David Kidman December 2007
An excellent all-instrumental release from a young East Tennessee banjo player (just 22 years old at the time of this recording), who's clearly been influenced big-time by Earl Scruggs but retains plenty of his own individual brand of fiery expertise (just you marvel at Josh's take on Earl's Randy Lynn Rag!). Josh also does a nice line in lyricism (as on his treatment of the song Cora's Gone, where the melodic flow continues unhampered by the exigencies of tuning or conversion), and he even proves himself a dab hand on finger-picking guitar too on a couple of tracks. Josh's been a member of Larry Sparks' band for the past five years too, which speaks volumes for his talents. So too is the very indication given by the presence of Scott Napier (mandolin), Randall Hubbard (bass), Hunter Berry (fiddle) and G.C. Matlock (guitar) as the basic backing crew for this record; the ensemble work is just grand, and no-one could accuse Josh of steamrollering through the laser with an overbearing banjo showcase as every player is given due weight. Most of the music Josh has chosen to play here is fairly well-trodden within old-time/bluegrass circles, at least in its original guise (several tunes are creative and resourceful song adaptations by Josh himself), but in truth these performances are most invigorating and are well able to hold their own (all-round inspired and deft picking is the order of the day, yes sir!). There's even a jolly rendition of Stephen Foster's Suwannee (sic) River! The only drawback of this CD (a couple of premature fades aside) is the seriously light playing-time - 29 minutes, which is utterly ridiculous in this day and age.
David Kidman
Eight albums down the line and the son of Texas novelist Larry is firmly on a roll, following up Childish Things with an ever more political collection of songs hewn from his ongoing disillusion with his country and the current administration's handling of Hurricane Katrina and the Irag war.
He's pretty specific on the growling, guitar gutsy Cheney's Toy, a bitter indictment of the way the war has dehumanised those sent to fight in it and of a President blinded by the pursuit of a legacy of his own. Likewise, the bluesy slow riffing God Bless America, a track that again evokes thoughts of Bruce Cockburn, directs its attention at the oil industry while a Steve Earle-like banjo picking Ruins Of The Realm notes how nation states have a habit of falling apart and, by inference, draws a comparison between the 'little cowboy' and the Third Reich.
He's not all about Iraq, though. Hurricane Party revisits New Orleans from the perspective of a guy who stayed behind, observing the waters rise and reflecting on the way things change and slip away.
Showing the same storytelling skills as his father and prompting thoughts of Warren Zevon's finest moments, Ruby And Carlos is a stand out semi-spoken tale of a Gulf war vet turned drummer and his woman trying to make a relationship work in the face of everything life's thrown at them as the years fall past while the title track revisits Johnny from his song Candyland, now grown with a kid, a divorce and a life still going nowhere.
Equally potent and downbeat, Fire Line Road is a powerful drawled Texan country-blues, a tale of domestic sexual abuse as Alice Walker recounts how her sister wasn't lucky enough to avoid their drunken father's desires.
Interestingly, given his cinematic style, The Governor, about a murdered fisherman and political conspiracy, is actually John Sayles' Silver City recast as a song. Musically, whether rocking the boogie on Bayou Turtous and Freeway View, the latter featuring Ian McLagen driving the groove, or otherwise chewing the Texas dust, this is McMurtry's most confident and assured work yet, and if he's got the blood churning in his anger and frustration, he leaves the album on You'd a Thought with a note of acceptance that we're essentially always going to repeat the same mistakes but that "through all the smoke and mirrors, I guess we do the best we can." He certainly has here.
Mike Davies July 2008
James McMurtry - Childish Things (Compadre Records)
Sometimes the old cliches do the job perfectly well. James McMurtry's lastest album Childish Things is mean, moody and magnificent, its release heralds the arrival of a major new talent, no doubt about it.
A Ft Worth native and the son of Larry McMurtry, who wrote the Oscar-winning Terms of Endearment, young James had better get used to hearing 'ranks alongside .........', 'reminiscent of ................ at their best'. The blanks will be filled in with some of music's illustrious names.
Childish Things is the hard-edged, country-tinged product of a musician who sees things exactly as they are. See The Elephant and the title track are two of many examples of McMurtry's gift for writing in the plain, honest and simple language of the common man.
However, it's the brooding We Can't Make It Here that is the album's undoubted and already acknowledged centrepiece. By his own admission James McMurtry is not one of life's natural radicals and, like everyone who is stirred into action reluctantly, when he is roused his words are all the more devastating.Told in a clear, angry voice We Can't Make It Here could not be a more powerful or graphic accusation of failure, if it came replete with pictures of rubbish-stewn streets and boarded up windows. The imagery of McMurtry's lyrics is chilling and salutary, the stench of modern decay permeates every line.
But political anger, righteous though it is, is only one facet of McMurtry's jewel. There's some good old, foot-stompin, energetic rock n roll to contend with as well. The traditional Old Slew Foot comes with its own sense of danger, as McMurtry builds the tension it is not a huge leap to imagine that old bear behind you with dinner on his mind.
But the climax comes with Six Year Drought, McMurtry fills every space of the song with a thumping melody that piledrives home a great song.
With Childish Things, James McMurtry deserves to be afforded the same respect and serious consideration he has invested in its creation, this is a real find.
Michael Mee
If you were presented with this without a sleeve then you'd easily think it was a new album from Bruce Cockburn. The son of novelist Larry (whose work has been a long standing influence on Nancy Griffith), McMurtry may be Texan but the opening cover of Dave Alvin's Dry River sounds so like the Canadian singer-songwriter, from voice to musical arrangement, that it's spooky. The title track filters in a hint of early Dylan sounding like a slowed down Queen Jane Approximately, but whether rocking it up on Valley Road or taking it down slow and moody as on Out Here In The Middle or the smouldering Red Dress with its Hendrixy chopping guitar, the Cockburn comparisons are hard to shake.
Still, if that doesn't pose a problem, then McMurtry has rewards aplenty on offer. Like Cockburn too he's an observer of the shifting world, the city and the backroads that lead there. Inspired no doubt by his dad's writing, his characters are losers (Lobo Town), down and outs (Saint Mary of the Woods), broken lovers (Broken Beds), kids recounting their parents fights (Gone To The Y), ordinary lives coping with ordinary life, often leaning on a bottle to make it through. Sometimes leaning too hard. As Out Here In The Middle indicates, he's also concerned about the changing face of the rural American landscape and the erosion of the people and places upon which the nation was founded. Listening to him relate the family reunion of hell raising, gun totin', cousin-screwing, land rent shark rednecks in Choctaw Bingo you wonder if that's necessarily a bad thing.!
www.jamesmcmurtry.com
www.sugarhillrecords.com
Mike Davies
Virginia MacNaughton - Levers Pulleys & Engines (Paraphernalia)
With one indie label album already to her credit (ascribed to Vanessa MacNaughton in the Q review) and work with the Young Vic, the Linconshire born singer-songwriter isn't new to the game but it's reasonable to assume she's not a name likely to ring many bells. That should change with this her own label sophomore release. Among the inevitable comparisons that attach themselves to any new artist have been Dido, Beth Orton, Indigo Girls, Kirsty MacColl and Nick Drake, to which you may as well as Eddi Reader and Judie Tzuke for good measure with music that sits comfortably in the cool folksy-jazz pop zone. A little too poised and crafted at times when a rush of blood would have worked better, even so she's possessed of a honeyed voice that swoops and hushes to easy laid back Chardonnay evenings effect, subtly veined with the sense of resignation and wearied hurt that imbues many of her bleak and desperate love songs. Goodbye To All That (dedicated to MacColl) is ideal testament to her way around an arrangement with its dark coffee Latin flavoured percussion while the likes of Faceless, Anonymous (a song about loving an alcoholic), a slow waltzing Worth The Wait and the understated excellence of the opening Essentially Prey reveal her intelligent, literate way around bruised romance and insecurity. The ringing Lou Reed like guitar lines of From the Heart Down shows she can handle the big rock sound as confidently as wispy acoustic and throws up yet another reference point in Shawn Colvin with a track that cries out to be a Radio 2 featured single and quite possibly the lever that will crack wide the dividing wall between cult and star.
Mike Davies
This guy's a bit of a local hero round these parts (read West Yorkshire): though deservedly well regarded as a solo performer (singer, songwriter, guitarist, indeed multi-instrumentalist), Gerry also leads his own four-piece band and augmented "orchestra" and plays stand-up bass with Duncan McFarlane's mighty acoustic outfit, yet in spite of all these activities he somehow maintains an unassuming profile.
Although Gerry's been around the music scene for some 25 years, with his expertise in great demand from fellow-musicians, it's only in the past five years that he's launched himself into a solo career path. An early studio recording displayed Gerry's penchant and aptitude for intelligent experimentation, especially as regards texture and arrangement, while now on the brand-new album release, Small Town Boy, he combines that trait with his many other proven talents: characterful singing, skilled songwriting and fine all-round musicianship, all of which can be heard to good advantage on a thoughtful collection of songs that celebrate the best of contemporary acoustic writing with a handful of keen arrangements of traditional songs that (as a self-confessed nu-folkie!) he's recently discovered.
To help him realise the potential of these songs, Gerry has drawn around him a host of talented friends, mixing and matching the various musical colours as they drop in to assist. There's a real feel of willing collaboration, a genuinely enjoyable coming-together of enviably naturally talented muso-mates. These include members of his band (Katriona Gilmore on fiddle and mandolin, Ruth Wilde on double bass and Liam McNeice on guitar) and extended orchestra (Dom Howell on bodhrán and Jude Rees on oboe), while there are also key appearances from melodeonists Andy Cutting, Steve Fairholme and Pete Robinson, with backing vocals from Michelle Plum, fiddle from Marjorie Paterson and Jamie Roberts on trombone: stars every one of 'em!
Gerry's personal treatments of his chosen material are without exception genial and pleasing, but that evaluation should not be taken pejoratively, for he displays a real knack for communicating the essence of each song; it's rather that Gerry's performances are couched in a brilliantly likeable, listener-friendly and thoroughly accessible nu-folk idiom that occasionally understates and belies its own keen depth of invention and imagination.
Gerry's own songs (just three on this disc, but there's plenty more on the stocks!) are simply- and memorably-expressed demonstrations of his acute empathy with the human condition, although their inspiration invariably derives from specific stories. These in turn can be based either on true events (Home is the tale of an American airman lost in training during WW2, whereas Danger Sign uses the much-documented local issue of the fence alongside the river Wharfe in Otley as a telling metaphor for other life experiences and concerns) or urban myths (The Legend Of Black Jack, a ghost who haunted a friend's farm). Gerry also turns in affectionate and well-considered performances of songs penned by other songwriters: Katriona's I Know You (clearly inspired by Alison Krauss) receives a distinctive, sensitive reading that's quite different from that on Kat and Jamie's own 2006 EP, while Boo Hewerdine's limpid Wings On My Heels shows Gerry's persuasive way with that kind of nostalgic material. For two of the album's songs, there's no other recorded comparison to hand: Shadow Of Skiddaw, which comes from the pen of Australian singer-songwriter Chris Aronsten, appealingly namechecks several locations from Gerry's (and mine own!) favourite part of the Lake District, while Circle (Round) For Danny is a lovely, evocative recent composition by Duncan McFarlane written for and about his own grandfather. Elsewhere: do we really need yet another version of Beeswing? A resounding yes, when it's as finely realised as Gerry's!
He also manages to achieve a similar freshness of interpretive approach for other folkie-familiar fodder, here the traditional songs Flash Company, The White Cockade and Lezzie Lindsay, all of which he so beguilingly makes his own. In all these cases, Gerry's superlative renditions can proudly hold their own alongside those by illustrious "star names" of the folk scene; and his melodious take on Braw Sailing is a close match for Kris Drever's celebrated recent version, which can be taken as praise indeed.
As a singer, Gerry has a very pleasing vocal delivery, a gentle and light-textured but never unfeeling way of putting across a song, the total believability of which is only mildly compromised on isolated occasions by the slightly forced adoption of an "accent" (a Scottish burr on Circle For Danny and a rougher tone on some phrases of Flash Company).
Not only is Gerry a significantly accomplished instrumentalist (guitars, tenor guitar, bouzouki, banjo and basses), wearing his talents lightly and modestly, but he also has a great ear for effective blending of instrumental colour; each successive listen to this CD reveals playful and ingenious subtleties of individual parts that really enhance his own performances. For the most part, the carefully-managed recording does Gerry's creative insights commendable justice, although there were times when I felt a touch of opaqueness in the overall texture, especially in the definition of bass lines and some minor clutter in the separation of other parts.
But these trifles matter little when set alongside the considerable achievements of the disc as a whole in accurately presenting the consummate nature of Gerry's talents and reflecting where Gerry is artistically right now. And it's top quality all the way - no wonder he's got so many friends!
David Kidman October 2009
This contemporary acoustic duo, who both study at the Birmingham Conservatoire and are in their fourth year on the BMus course, started playing together as a duo just before Easter 2007 and were finalists in 2008's Radio 2 Young Folk Awards. This, their debut CD, is an unusual release, at any rate in the context of the trend among so many of today's young performers for making their name reworking traditional material, for Light Up All The Beacons consists exclusively of entirely self-penned material, being a collection of thoughtful and intelligent songs (by Jack) and a couple of instrumentals composed by Charlie. The songs, though often distinctly personal in nature, are mature, thought-provoking and refreshingly devoid of archetypal studenty navel-gazing. Jack's vocal delivery is individual and confident, though some may find it just a touch abrasive on occasion; his guitar style, in contrast, is deft and imaginatively melodic, whereas Charlie's rich-toned violin accompaniment is very much to the fore while clearly innovative in its approach to phrasing and contour. The duo's music is pretty original and not easy to describe, at least in terms of ready reference points, but there's no denying that their debut is definitely brimful of interest and promise, although on initial hearing it may be judged a trifle elusive, even exclusive. I suspect this album will turn out to be a bit of a grower, one to perhaps lay aside and return to in a month or two with fresh ears, when it will doubtless yield even greater satisfaction.
www.myspace.com/jackmcneillandcharlieheys
David Kidman March 2009
I reviewed his second album, Nobody's Son, for Netrhythms some time back, but never heard his Off The Rails debut and never got a promo copy of the third, Another Man. So, originally put together to introduce him to America, this compilation and its four new recordings is a useful catch-up for me and an enticing primer for newcomers.
Born in Bradford of Irish-Polish stock, a graduate in French and Russian, and a former cross-country runner for Yorkshire, McNiff is quite open about his influences, basically early Dylan, Woody Guthrie and Ernest Hemingway. I don''t think he sounds much like Ernest, but you can certainly hear Bob's nasal tones in his vocals, guitar playing and (especially on Blow Up The Bridge, the only number from the second album) songwriting. Lost My Way, one of the new cuts, throws up hints of John Prine while Woody's Annie Hall from his debut suggests a young Eric Anderson and In Our Time harks to Heart of Saturday Night Tom Waits without the gravel.
I can't say I'm too much taken with gypsy folk stomper new recording Bella Ciao, a trad anti-fascist song from WWII sung in Italian, but the Simon & Garfunkel like Pilgrim Soul and a lovely strummed Dylanesque live version of hymn chestnut Hard Times are fine additions to his library.
Taken from his debut, Soho ably underscores his nimble dexterity on the fretwork with strong echoes of John Fahey while the slow brooding defiant title track from his sophomore release is another welcome inclusion that will hopefully bolster the number of people out there waiting for his overdue fourth studio album proper.
Mike Davies March 2008
Jason McNiff - Nobody's Son (Snowstorm)
The cover of McNiff's second album features a book cover designed to look like one of those well worn Penguin Classics of the 60s while on the back is a photo of browned autumn leaves. It's an appropriate image of the music which, helped out by various members of Grand Drive and Hank Dogs, harks back to those dusty old sepia days when students hung round coffee shops with acoustic guitars and spent evenings hunched round the record player soaking up the latest Dylan or excitedly trying to run friends on to Jackson C Frank.
In fact he covered Frank's Blues Run The Game on his debut album while the young Bob is an immediate reference point here, both in the simple folksy finger picked acoustic guitar arrangements and McNiff's gentle nasally twang. Indeed blindly happening upon I Remember You or Blow Up The Bridge you could be almost persuaded this was a lost Greenwich village Dylan recording.
Dylan's not the only muse in evidence, the gentle rolling folk country if Outta Here and the gorgeous title track surely point to a few John Prine and Eric Andersen records in the house while the folk blues Time Goes Rollin' On and the high voice, banjo and accordion of All Around America hark back to the the old masters, John Fahey and Woody Guthrie. He even mentions the Grand Cooley Dam on Oh Caroline.
He writes the sort of songs that sound like they've been around for years too, the yearning All Around America and Don't Dance With Me things you've searched second hand racks for in vain. Buy this album now, or you may find yourself doing just that. ****
Mike Davies
Mary's abnormally fine CD The Holland Handkerchief was a highlight of my listening year back in 2004, so it was in a heightened state of both eagerness and trepidation that I approached her latest offering. I needn't have worried in the slightest, for Petticoat Loose is another exceptional release. Two years in the making, its essence is represented by, and crystallised in, the four principal strands of Mary's artistic endeavours: her close associations with luminaries of the traditional music world, her work at the National University Of Ireland, Galway, her ongoing musical collaboration with former Dervish multi-instrumentalist Seamie O'Dowd and her lifelong friendship with poet, playwright and broadcaster Vincent Woods. These strands, though on the surface quite diverse, are well unified here by Mary's marvellous singing voice: supremely strong, full of spirit and passion and an intense love of the songs she sings, whatever their provenance. Having said that, Mary benefits much from the inventive nature of the settings given to the songs, which range from the epic layerings of Cúmha (Parting Sorrow) and Caoine Sheáin Mhic Searraigh to the altogether simpler, ungainly rusticity of the Romanian drinking song Lumé, Lumé (accompanied by the galumphing strings of the quartet ConTempo). Highlights are provided by the pair of songs collected by Stiofán O'Cheilleachair from the area of Drumkeerin where Mary grew up, which are both blessed with imaginative arrangements by Brendan O'Regan, while two further songs have an intriguing choral setting: a beautiful, small-scale-harmonised rendition of Barbara Allen contrasting with an ambitious treatment of Lowlands Away on which Mary's voice is surrounded by the surging waves of sound produced by NUIG's Orbsen Choir. A further standout track is Mary's solo unaccompanied rendition of the traditional narrative My Generous Lover, while another unexpected success is Mary's "strangely comforting" cover of Leonard Cohen's Sisters Of Mercy. The three Vincent Woods songs couldn't be more contrasted too: Sanctuary is a poignant childhood reminiscence, while Kiss The Moon's light-country-bluegrassy setting belies the personal and moving nature of its story and the album's title track playfully makes use of a bluesy kind of jig form to convey both the carefree abandon and the ominous intoxicating allure of the strayed woman of folklore. If I must be picky, the album's two least successful tracks for me are Wild Mountain Side, where Mary's very strength of vocal timbre appears to hector the listener a touch, and Victor Jara, whose almost jaunty accompaniment works against the emotive power of Mary's voice. But these criticisms are very much comparative, as the album works so well as a whole and the rest of it is so fine. No lover of good singing can be disappointed with Mary's performance here, while another definite selling-point must be her excellent and illustrious support crew, which includes Mairtín O'Connor, Cathal Hayden and the aforementioned Mr. O'Dowd (all of whom appeared on The Holland Handkerchief), with this time additionally (amongst others) Frankie Gavin, Gerry (Banjo) O'Connor, Garry O'Briain and Johnny Ringo McDonagh.
www.marymcpartlan.com
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman
There's something not quite right here. Here's a CD by a singer I've never previously heard, who has one of the finest voices I've heard, so where the hell has Mary been hiding? Even on the (wonderfully textured) cover shot she's peering out a mite sternly, half-hidden amidst long stalks of grass. Well I'm the ignorant one it seems, for apparently she's well known as a music producer in television and theatre for some years, and The Holland Handkerchief is her first record. For it, she's gathered around her some of the finest Irish musicians one could wish for (including Paddy Keenan, Cathal Hayden, Mairtín O'Connor, Liam Kelly, Tom Morrow, and not least Dervish's Shamie O'Dowd), and comes up with what amounts to something of a masterwork that somehow manages to straddle the uneasy divide that has caused many a talented artiste to make one compromise too many. In other words, this CD should appeal to the enthusiast for classy folk performance and the lover of good songs well sung, while achieving that elusive element of mainstream accessibility that's as often reviled as appreciated for its skilful attainment. Mary's voice has a well nigh unique combination of qualities - a passionate maturity, a wholly natural directness of expression, and a distinct earthiness over a wide compass, embodying at once a great strength and a great tenderness. Her repertoire, at least as evidenced on this CD, includes a fair smattering of what one might call relatively familiar material that's lately in need of reasoned rejuvenation. Which is just what Mary provides, aided considerably by the production and arranging skills of P. J. Curtis and Shamie O'Dowd respectively. Standouts for me were the opening title track, a mournfully atmospheric version ofPeat Bog Soldiers, a fine and unerringly well-paced unaccompanied rendition of Lord Gregory, a joyous cajun-style revisit of Thom Moore's Saw You Running and a superb three-part rendition (with Mary Staunton and Martina Goggin) of Slieve Gallion Braes that finishes the album in perfection with its blazing economy of execution. And even the jazzy swing of Mary's take on Aura Lee (done to that hoary old Love Me Tender tune which I've hated forever) didn't alienate me! Yes, I'm convinced this album is destined to be regarded as a classic.
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman
It's good to see this title included among the first batch of anniversary reissues of selected LPs from the illustrious Topic back-catalogue, for there's no question that Belfast's McPeake Family were one of the most successful of the groups playing Irish traditional music within the 1960s folk revival. Theirs was a distinctive sound, based not on the customary fiddle and whistle but instead on the quite specific - and novel and unusual - combination of uilleann pipes, harp and harmony singing.
The McPeakes first captured the attention of English audiences in the early 1950s as a result of Peter Kennedy bringing two uilleann pipers, Francis McPeake and his son Frank, over to perform at the Royal Albert Hall; the duo soon then became a trio with the addition of second son James, a harp player. At the time of the Topic recording sessions, however (the winter of 1962-63), the McPeake Family group consisted of that original trio augmented by a second trio comprising Frank's daughter Kathleen (another harpist) and son Francis and their cousin Tommy McCrudden, both pipers. The sessions spawned an LP and an EP, and the four tracks of the latter (which include the celebrated song that gives this disc its title) are used to neatly top and tail the former on this reissue. All the McPeakes complement their instrumental skills with fine singing, and some of their harmonies are quite edgy indeed. The songs include repertoire that has since become standard, including The Verdant Braes Of Skreen and Slieve Gallon Brae, as well as versions of Cock Robin, A Bucket Of The Mountain Dew and Jug Of Punch; performances are vital and imaginative. Pick of the handful of purely instrumental selections would have to be the stirring piping on The Lament Of Aughrim, but there's plenty of spirit in the various reels and hornpipes too.
As far as documentation goes, the sleeve notes for both original releases are reproduced in the enclosed booklet, although an amusing error has crept in whereby I Know My Love (which James sings here to his own harp accompaniment) is listed as I Know Where I'm Going (oops!). A very welcome reissue nevertheless.
David Kidman December 2009
Catherine-Ann MacPhee - Suilair Ais: Looking Back (Greentrax)
Cathy-Ann's widely regarded as one of the finest of today's Gaelic singers, who around six years ago had appeared on the groundbreaking Gaelic Women CD and the ensuing Celtic Connections concert in 2000, and this is her fourth album release for Greentrax (her very first, the highly-acclaimed Canan Nan Gaidheal, appeared back in 1987, only a year after the label itself was launched!). It's a lovely collection featuring many of Cathy-Ann's all-time favourite Gaelic songs, and a CD which, although predominantly gentle in character, betrays hidden depths on close listening. Like her chosen accompanists, in fact - just a glance at the names of whom should give you a good idea: Tony McManus (guitar), Wendy Stewart (clarsach), Iain MacDonald (flute and small pipes), Ewen Vernal (bass) and Neil Martin (cello). They provide finely-textured backing tracks that delicately and elegantly frame Cathy-Ann's outstanding singing, and the overall effect is immensely soothing without being soporific. In this respect, it's probably invidious to attempt to single out specific tracks, although I admit to particularly enjoying the triptych at the centre of the CD, which begins with a medley of A Ghaoil Leig Dhachaidh and Leannan Mo Ghaoil (track 7), where Cathy-Ann invests her performance with the potent memory of a wonderful evening concert she gave in Edinburgh, continuing with the weaving counterpoint of electric and acoustic guitars on Mo Chridhe Trom's Mi Seòladh, and ending with the delicious lilt of the unaccompanied Gaol An t-Seòladair. The artistic character of the album in pure sound terms is carried on through into the cover design, which features a beautiful painting by Cathy-Ann's young daughter Mairead MacDonald. This is a delightfully intimate, yet immensely accessible CD, by which I mean accessible even to those who think Gaelic singing is not for them - and at least part of this accessibility is due to the uniformly sensitive and tastefully-crafted accompaniments, which I here emphasise at the risk of denigrating Cathy-Ann's superb singing, the quality and stature of which, though exceptional and enviably consistent, should in no way be taken for granted either.
David Kidman
The songs evoke headily ethereal landscapes while dealing in what for yer average songwriter would be decidedly obscure or esoteric subject-matter: Tarot card illustrator Pamela Colman Smith (The Lovers), the sufferings of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo (Aquí Me Pinté Yo), lucid dreaming (Western, with its trance-like spoken passages), the writings of Carlos Castaneda (the title track, which also integrates influences from Native American music). Eastern drones are used to mesmeric effect on Pipe And Tabor (which posits the theory that the Great God Pan still lives among us) and Kathakali Boy (inspired by the elaborate Indian classical dance-cum-story-play of that name), while Mama's take on the Biblical story of Salome bewitchingly utilises mariachi trumpet within a hallucinatory and chaotic swirling dervish of Dancing Girl. The flamboyant, devil-may-care insistence of opening track The Fool Of Spring is a bit like the Roches on speed, while further contrasts are provided by the disturbed awakening of Liquid Sunshine and the gentle ambient tinkling-bell-adorned idyll of At The Waterside, and the bonus track is a fresh update of Zoë's 1991 hit single Sunshine On A Rainy Day – mildly disposable perhaps (a bit like the Hole In My Shoe that's still letting in water, I guess!), but it's fit for purpose as a desirable encore here.
The instrumental backings are clear-textured, with Zoë's rippling ukulele and classical guitar in delicate counterpoint with Sarah's open-tuned guitar while further delectable backing is provided by Tiffany Bryant's flute and Andy Jarvis's intricate percussion (and occasional accordion, trumpet or harmonium). These various elements add to the wayward, trippy vibe, but (and this bit's hardest to pin down!) there's also a curiously spontaneous sense of control to the whole proceedings, a feeling of considered arrangement that's conscious but not self-conscious – all of which adds to the appeal of the music. Even so, there's occasionally a nagging little feeling that the whole is less than the sum of its parts, with individual tracks very persuasive yet the total effect a touch too ragbag to be entirely convincing. But after much deliberation, and despite superficially underwhelming first impressions and occasional reservations about the easy-trendy Glastonbury vibe and flawed vision of some of the lyrics, I've grown to really like the endearing music produced by Mama's fruitful, if idiosyncratic creative partnership.
David Kidman July 2009
You might recall that last year, Sarah managed belatedly to re-release her fine debut disc, 1997's When Two Lovers Meet, to be greeted with even wider acclaim than on its first appearance, for its timeless properties: the gently sensuous singing, quiet lyricism and tasteful arrangements, which I felt had a certain kinship with the output of Niamh Parsons. Hardly surprising, given the time Sarah had spent in Ireland, immersing herself in its cultural heritage. Now safely Cornwall-based, however, in her (American) mother's former home, Sarah has taken stock and decided to revisit the Southern Appalachian songs and tunes that she learned during her childhood, to many of which she had been introduced by her mother. It's clear from her quietly expressive and supremely affecting performances that these songs have powerful emotional resonances for Sarah, and on this new CD she takes us on a cathartic spiritual journey through this material. It's a lovingly produced (and incidentally, beautifully packaged) release, containing several standout tracks and not a weak link anywhere in earshot. Sarah leads off the CD with a marvellously atmospheric and idiomatic The Chickens They Are Crowing (Peggy Seeger's seminal 1958 recording of which she wore out on her Mickey Mouse record-player!), following this with a delicious rendition of West Virginia Boys (with deftly cheeky percussion accompaniment from Liam Bradley) and the disc's sole instrumental cut, a version of Shady Grove backed by Gerry O'Beirne on tiple and guitars. Although Sarah openly admits her cover of Ode To Billie Joe can't hope to match Bobbie G's original, it's a pretty authentic stab, as is her attempt at emulating Rory Block's muscular treatment of J.K. Alwood's Uncloudy Day. The disc's two acappella tracks provide definite highlights: there's a well-turned rendition of a song Sarah had learned directly from her mother, a North Carolina variant of The Wagoner's Lad, but even finer is her spellbinding vocal duet with Liam Bradley on the sacred harp hymn Wondrous Love that forms the disc's centrepiece. It's also impossible to fault Sarah's well-judged take on East Virginia (based on the 1960 Joan Baez recording of Jean Ritchie's version), which benefits additionally from Máire Breatnach's wonderful guest fiddle contribution. Máire also appears on Only An Emotion, the first of two original songs by Sarah that complete the disc's tasty menu; the second of these, appropriately entitled Last Song, closes the disc in affectionate childhood reminiscence mode. This is a truly lovely record: it proves a thoroughly delightful listening experience that arises completely naturally out of a deeply satisfying personal artistic statement.
David Kidman October 2008
You can be easily forgiven for not having heard of Sarah... for this CD is a belated reissue of Sarah's widely-acclaimed debut, which was first released on a purely limited basis in Ireland in 1997.
It's a quiet, uniformly lyrical album, characterised by timeless, fine-toned, warm and gently sensuous singing and thoughtful, sparkling yet understated guitar work. The simple unadorned physical beauty of Sarah herself, as captured in the booklet's photographic portraits, is mirrored by the spare beauty of the music on the disc: 47 minutes of pure delight, entirely embodying Sarah's personal philosophy that "a soft approach can still be a source of joy, intensity, even wildness". Indeed, the two lovers of the title could well be interpreted as vocal and instrumental performance, for their marriage is at once perfectly controlled and perfectly natural, both in conception and in execution.
The focus is always on Sarah's singing or playing, and she's blessed with unobtrusive and appealing settings which are a model of intelligence and sensitive restraint. In fact the overall feel of the album reminded me of the work of Niamh Parsons in that respect, and it came as no surprise to find her name among the credits (she duets with Sarah on her fabulous closing rendition of The Parting Glass, which done to an unusual tune, a little reminiscent of Quiet Joys Of Brotherhood, which she learnt from the singing of Len Graham) along with piper John McSherry, bassist Trevor Hutchinson, cellist Kevin Murphy, fiddler Colm McGaughey, keyboard player Rod McVey and producer Gerry O'Beirne who pitches in with backing guitars and ukulele. The complement of the album is seven songs and three instrumental tracks, the latter rather surprisingly providing highlights of the set with richness in sparsity.
The songs include fetching variants of Sprig Of Thyme, the title track (also known as The Banks Of The Lee) and When A Man's In Love, also one of Sarah's own compositions (Charlie's Gone Home) which despite its "folkiness" still feels like the cuckoo in the nest (although it doesn't compromise the mood of the album in any way). Sarah sings unaccompanied on just one song, the macaronic-form Táim Cortha Ó Bheith Im' Aonar Im' Luí. Finally, the good news is that Sarah's just moved to Cornwall and plans to release a new CD next year. For the time being, though, this treasure of an album is now available easily in the UK through Proper Distribution and by the good auspices of Gael Linn.
www.sarahmcquaid.com
www.myspace.com/sarahmcquaid
David Kidman August 2007
Tom McRae - Just Like Blood (DB)
His Mercury Prize nominated debut saw McRae enter the new millennium garlanded with a sheaf of new Nick Drake comparisons, largely down to the minimal, folksy settings, wistful voice and melancholic songs. Some years on he's back, his sophomore album, Just Like named from a Simon Armitage poem about self-harm, lone guitar now surrounded by strings, piano, banjo, organ, percussion and assorted sonics. The voice though remains a bruised sweet weary murmur, reminiscent of Thom Yorke's more strung out moments or Jeff Buckley at his most achingly fragile and his songs still concern loss, despair and life and love under siege.
As per the title, images of blood crop up throughout, as does water (liquid or frozen) on songs that regularly seem to be about lovers disappearing or trying to hold to them while simultaneously wrestling with issues of commitment. These come in a variety of waves. Crashing through the distorted guitars of Mermaid Blues, hushed and fragile Walking 2 Hawaii, whirling around the bitter recriminations of Karaoke Soul, rippling over wood chimes on the opening A Day Like Today, tinged with alt-country rumbles on Stronger Than Dirt where he defiantly refuses to crumble along with the relationship.
On the gently undulating Ghost of A Shark his guitar sounds speaks Leonard Cohen while his voice croons like a suicidal choirboy as he sings "burn my clothes, bury my fears you will never know I was here."
On Overthrown with its hints of Lennon he stands half in sunlight, half in shade, on Line Of Fire he's a former lover's shadow stalker, and on the devastating closing Human Remains he uses the conceit of a photograph burned at the edge as a resigned observation that while the image remains unchanged everything it represents, physically and emotionally fades. Yet for all these thoughts of pain, misery and revenge, he somehow rises above the drowning flood, the pack ice of the heart, finding a glimmer of air in the romantic notion that "I can sing you out of this." Vein glorious indeed.
Mike Davies
Aside from her recent immersion in the Darwin Song Project, cellist and singer Rachael's spent the best part of the past four years tucked away (in the nicest possible way!) within the mighty elftet Bellowhead, who themselves have taken English folk music by the scruff of its neck and not only revitalised its presentation but also thrust it firmly into the dance arenas and trendy places of the kingdom. Working so closely and intensely within that kind of environment is bound to have inspired Rachael to create adventurous and exuberant music of her own, and her debut solo record certainly lives up to expectations while coming up with some surprising and effective answers to the age-old question of how to arrange and present traditional song in order to breathe new life into it. Folk-rock it ain't, but it folks and it rocks!
Much of the credit here, however, must go to the extraordinarily cohesive trio of musicians (keyboardist James Peacock, bassist Jonathan Proud and drummer Adam Sinclair) with whom Rachael has recorded this CD, for their own backgrounds (in jazz, soul and funk) have clearly formed a major influence on Rachael's own musical approach to the songs as well as on the actual arrangements adopted. The darkly driven sound of the core trio (plus Rachael's cello and fiddle) is embellished throughout the album with bold stabs of additional colour from guests including Julien Batten (piano accordion), Tom Oakes (flute, bansuri), Sam Sweeney (fiddle, viola), a punchy three-piece brass section and backing vocalists Emily Portman and Richard Sutton. Even so, Adam Sinclair's excellent production ensures textures don't become cluttered, and Rachael's stunning singing always shines through strong and clear – this is a great chance to appreciate just how characterful a singer she is, in fact, and she has a playful and individual way with expressiveness that's really attractive, whether recounting tales of love lost and won, intrigues and mischiefs or deeper sorrow.
Particularly successful in their intelligent innovation, I thought, were Rachael's bold (if occasionally quite cheeky!) takes on The Fisherman, The Gardener and The Highwayman Outwitted. Some of the treatments (like Maid On The Shore) take a Bellowhead-style funk line with their syncopated get-on-yer-feet rhythms, whereas others (eg My Johnny Was A Shoemaker) develop their strong percussive content outside of the basic riffs that drive the melody along. Whenever you start getting the sneaking feeling you've probably heard an idea or gambit before (as on the introduction to Captain Ward maybe), Rachael and her crew pull the rug out and take things quite effortlessly into a different musical arena. Rachael's more introspective, piano-led treatment of Shepherd Lad appealingly evokes a kind of creative conjunction of the Unthanks and Kate Rusby, while the epic ballad of Miles Weatherill builds from melancholy chamber-jazz to a strident choppy conclusion.
Finally, the disc's extra-musical presentation (courtesy of The Shee's Lillias Kinsman-Blake) is most attractive too, reflecting and retaining the uncluttered but well-defined (within traditional concepts) nature of the music within (who needs over-ornate design and frustratingly unreadable artwork?). Rachael's surely triumphed on this album, managing to inject something really fresh and exciting into traditional song - but I do slightly wonder whether she's left no tricks in the bag for a followup.
David Kidman August 2009
Jacqui McShee's Pentangle - At the Little Theatre (Park Records PRKCD53)You want crashing guitars? You want angry young men hollering at the top of their rasping voices that their baby done them wrong? You do? Then I suggest you turn the page, 'cos you ain't gonna find 'em here! What "At the Little Theatre" does give the listener is cool, understated class; a shimmering, glistening, ripple-free pond calling invitingly on a hot summer day. Lending it only half an ear you get the impression of pure ease but pay a little closer attention and it becomes obvious that sweat is being broken here.
There's barely a moment of this 72-minute live recording in which the awesomely inventive percussion of Gerry Conway and the sinuously athletic bass-playing of Alan Thomson aren't working to telling effect in the background or, on occasion, right up front.
Opening with the traditional "She Moved Through the Fair", the tone of the album is immediately set. McShee's sensual vocal takes the limelight with subtle colouring provided by the keyboards of Foss Patterson and Thomson's bass.Conway's cymbals then shimmer like the gentlest of waves washing on to the sand. At around the four-minute mark, Jerry Underwood's echoing soprano sax heralds the seamless move into track two, the heavily atmospheric "Jabalpur" which positively reeks of the kasbah. Insistently pushed along by the drums, it's not difficult to imaging Conway's contorted face reflecting the concentration he pours into his every down-stroke.
"That's the Way It Is" will strike a chord of recognition in every parent of a teenager. Introducing it to the audience at Chipping Norton Theatre, she says: "This is a song about my son when he was about 18 - he used to sort of grunt, then". Over a choppy melody she then voices the contradictory frustrations of trying to love and understand a child trying to make his way into adulthood. Even the devil, she says "would sit on the shelf and then throw in the towel". "I've Got A Feeling" delves back into earlier days of the Pentangle story. Possessed of a light jazz swing, it gives each band member a chance to show us his chops, with a particularly tasty bass solo from Thomson just about edging the contributions of Underwood and Patterson.
McShee's voice is a wonderful instrument that graces and enhances every track here but is shown to stunning advantage on "The Bonny Greenwood Side" on which she is accompanied only by the hand-drums of husband Conway and some ethereal, choir-like keyboard layering from Patterson. And, showing she can handle other genres as well as traditional folk and band compositions, the album's rounded off with the standard "We'll Be Together Again" on which McShee's smokey vocal is backed by late-night jazz club piano, Conway's lightly brushed snare and a rich, warm tenor solo from Underwood. Mmm, nice! The Pentangle of old were never afraid to experiment with traditional folk songs and, although McShee may be the sole remaining original member, the current band's instrumental line-up and fearless arrangements are doing a fine job of keeping that old Pentangle fire blazing brightly.
www.folkcorp.co.uk/pent/welcome.htm
Fred Hall
This is an unusual but compelling release from Ralph. The idea for this project sprung from Ralph's tour of UK bookshops just a few years ago to give readings publicising his two volumes of autobiography (Angel Laughter and Summer Lightning). Ralph's live readings were enhanced by his interpolation of performances of selected songs illustrating episodes depicted in the passages being read, which enabled his listeners to gain additional insight into the songs. Thus tried and tested, the same presentation format is now carried through into this bargain-priced three-disc set, which consists of brand new studio recordings made down in Cornwall over the past five years or so. On each of the discs, Ralph treats us to a series of readings interleaved with a handful of songs (and a few instrumental pieces for good measure); all of these musical items have been freshly recorded, and fans will note that some of the songs are completely new and a few others are seldom sung by Ralph in live performance these days. Just occasionally, the audio picture of the readings is completed, ie. further augmented, with ambient sound effects, which score extra points for their genuine relevance and comparative unobtrusiveness (it's good too that such effects are not liberally applied to every one of the readings). But, exactly as you would wish and expect, Ralph's own superb storytelling and singing is both the cornerstone and raison-d'être of these discs, and it's a tribute to his real gift for both aspects of the project that the 70 or so minutes of each disc flows by so effortlessly and thoroughly companionably. You're involved from the outset, and you remain totally enchanted, involved in Ralph's tales right on through: you are the child, right there experiencing Ralph's reminiscences. It's just like a good book that you really can't - and don't want to - put down, in fact. A superior class of audio-book, one with the best possible musical interludes - except that they're more substantial by far than the word interlude would normally suggest: essential, in fact. There is never any acceptable substitute for hearing the author read his own work, but Ralph's is the voice in my head when I read his writings and this set really does bring them alive with the final dimension of reality, truly the next closest thing to Ralph being welcomed right there into your living-room. And I'd actually also recommend the set as a perfect introduction to Ralph's world for anyone unfamiliar with his songs (there will always be someone!), not only to illustrate Ralph's skills and effectiveness as a wordsmith but also to really experience and share in his personal journey. Of course, you will point out that, as is the nature of audio-books, you may probably not expect to take such a set down from the shelves as often as you would an exclusively musical release - but I'll bet that this one will prove an exception to that rule and that it does come down again, and before too long too: it helps also that the individual musical items are (thoughtfully) separately cued. But me, I just found the whole set magic.
David Kidman January 2008
Sanctuary's ongoing reissue of complete albums from the Transatlantic back-catalogue now reaches the classic early triptych recorded by Ralph McTell. Of course, these albums have been reissued before, but the first two not in their entirety, although the majority of their tracks have appeared on anthologies in almost endless permutations, some a bewildering number of times. The latest, and arguably the best-value, of these anthologies has been the two-disc Castle compilation (ESACD. 880) that came out first in the early 90s and again in 2000, slightly misleadingly titled The Best Of Ralph McTell, which actually included virtually every single track from all three LPs (omitting just four: Are You Receiving Me? from Eight Frames A Second, and, from Spiral Staircase: Mrs Adlam's Angels, Kind Hearted Woman Blues and My Baby Keeps Staying Out All Night Long), and kicked off with the less-often-anthologised single A-side Summer Come Along. But completists and true McTell aficionados will want to have everything, so the latest re-releases will be considered definitive (if, inevitably, not quite the final word), and thus - even at the cost of three discs - the ones to have on the shelf; and the clinching factor will probably be the excellent new liner notes by David Suff.
Ralph's debut, Eight Frames A Second, was recorded over three evenings in October 1967 and released early the following year. By any standards it was an extraordinarily mature debut, introducing the different strands of Ralph's musicality that were to become his hallmarks: the gentle, intimate, often revealingly confessional songwriting, the strong vocal personality, and his (even then) pretty expert guitar playing, alternating attractive fingerstyle picking with impressively nimble ragtime/blues-inspired work. The LP contained some really classy original songs (my favourites being the poignant Nanna's Song and the distinctly Mike Heron-esque Are You Receiving Me?), a handful of rather fine covers of blues standards (a couple with authentic, lusty jugband backing), a nifty instrumental, and two covers (Granny Takes A Trip and the then-ubiquitous Morning Dew: the latter isn't anywhere near as "dodgy" as Ralph seems to think, but on the former I'd much rather have heard the jugband than this contrived and embarrassingly silly knees-up from the session musos!). And it all came together rather better than one might think from the above summary. For this expanded edition, we're treated to four bonus tracks: there's a suitably spirited demo of San Francisco Bay Blues, also two numbers recorded live in Cornwall in the summer of 1967 (including a particularly exuberant jugband-backed stomp through Boodle Am Shake), and - last but not least - a decidedly strange, "somewhat mystified" version of Leonard Cohen's Suzanne (only recently discovered in the vaults), which, had it been released on the LP at the time as planned, would have been the song's first British cover.
Ralph's second album, Spiral Staircase, which was released in 1969, has suffered (with hindsight) from having Streets Of London as its leading track - in whose company a clutch of otherwise excellent original songs was bound to suffer from underappreciation. In such company, too, the ragtime/blues elements seemed more misplaced than before for some reason, and the album's second side always seemed to me to tail off a bit in quality. But then the division between the two strands of Ralph's musical style was made all the more pronounced because the first side consisted entirely of original compositions (five songs and a quirky little instrumental piece), whereas the second side contained the lion's share of the album's complement of bluesy, raggy material. Whatever, this latest re-release now provides a chance to reappraise the entire album in its correct sequence - and I like it even more now. The four bonus tracks bring us a selection of those which Ralph re-recorded (under the banner "revisited") in 1970, just as his recording contract with Transatlantic was coming to an end (note, however, that these include neither the string-backed take of Streets Of London nor Bright And Beautiful Things...). These, according to Ralph, were "a rare opportunity" (afforded by the request to choose material for an American release) "to restate the songs as I now see and feel them", and these reworkings provide some interesting comparisons, notably the new country-meets-folk-rock approach adopted for Spiral Staircase.
Ralph's final album for Transatlantic (aside of course from 1970's Revisited) was My Side Of Your Window, and this found Ralph's songwriting reaching a new and even more mature level, with an altogether darker edge, greater perceptiveness and keener expression of the feelings and emotions of his characters, together with a greater musical ambitiousness and a better-considered use of contemporary guest musicians (as opposed to "house-orchestra" sessioners), concomitant with the greater respect with which Ralph was being accorded as his pulling-power and reputation grew. This album was a more rounded affair too, and is justly regarded as the most complete artistic statement of the three Transatlantic albums Ralph recorded: IMHO, it contains, in songs such as Clown, Factory Girl, Michael In The Garden and All Things Change, some of the very finest of Ralph's early work. Of the four bonus tracks, three (coincidentally, the first three of those titles which I so highly rated above) come from the above-mentioned Revisited album (the final pair of reworkings, Father Forgive Them and Kew Gardens, have for some reason been omitted), whereas the fourth bonus track is the lone single A-side Summer Come Along. It's a pity that this set of three discs could not have been rendered a truly complete re-release of all of Ralph's Transatlantic recordings by the inclusion of the remaining four uncompiled tracks from the Revisited LP - even though ample playing-time remains on the discs (which clock in at just 51, 47 and 53 minutes respectively); spoiling the proverbial ship for the "ha'porth of (Mc)tar", that's the only blemish on an otherwise definitive and exemplary presentation of these first three Ralph McTell albums.
David Kidman December 2007
David Kidman December 2007
It was only a matter of time before Ralph got to the head of the queue for being awarded the accolade of serious career-overview box-set treatment (as opposed to cheapskate repackage masquerading as comprehensive retrospective). But, I hear you say, four whole discs?! He wrote Streets Of London and that's about it ... (OK, you might know he also wrote From Clare To Here.) Ach, the pitfalls of popular misconception! Grand songs both of those may be, but Ralph's written so many more over his (to date) 40+-year career. The Journey takes the listener, in around 4¼ hours, on an aural voyage through the many facets of Ralph's musical personality, his writing and performing, springing some delightful surprises along the way. And the confirmed Ralph McTell fan will be pleased to note that of the set's 66 tracks, just under half are previously unreleased.
But first I suppose I ought to admit that I'd never considered myself in the front-rank of Ralph McTell devotees who've loyally followed his progress through each successive album and tour. Although I'd almost always enjoyed what I'd heard of Ralph's music, and some individual songs had made quite a deep impression on me, generally it's fair to say that his music hadn't ever totally "engaged" me in the same way as the more obviously challenging music of many of his contemporaries like the innovative or iconoclastic adventurers of folk wyrd (the ISB) or folk tradition (Fairport) or rock (Zappa) - hey, just blame it on my musical tastes at the time! I'd not have thrown all other commitments aside to go and see Ralph live or make buying the latest Ralph album a top priority. Many music fans I know wrote Ralph off then (and still do) as merely lightweight and "safe", even complacently so, and have viewed his music less than charitably, as little more than a pleasant back-road ambling along parallel to the mainstream and enjoying similar views from its confines.
So let's put the objectivity back in that assessment: the truth is that Ralph's music is easily accessible with readily definable crossover appeal - and there's nothing wrong with that, when it's of such high quality. His songwriting is characterised by compassion and a gentle humour; his music often sounds comforting and comfortable, mellow and melodious, consonant rather than discordant, unchallenging to the ear and neither unusual nor experimental - and capable of appealing even to your mother or your granny (so it was said, unduly disparagingly I felt). But complacent? - never! For as the author of the thought-provoking booklet essay (Paul O. Jenkins) observes: "While his finished product can temporarily satisfy him, a true artist never grows complacent." It's in more recent years that I've come to increasingly appreciate Ralph's stature as one of those "true artists" and to value the long-term consistency of his achievement. Even though his songs have always been there in the background of my life, and when returned to have always given satisfaction and pleasure - but having said that, as with many classic Beatles songs, I've sometimes found myself growing tired of hearing some Ralph McTell songs too much - which should not be taken as a criticism or comment on their quality, for they're well crafted almost to a fault.
Ralph has readily won me over with his deep integrity and unassuming humility, these being just two of the special qualities which have been summed up so neatly by Rory McGrath in the Foreword to the set's lavish accompanying 44-page booklet: "Although there is something universal about his words and music there is (also) something uniquely English. There is something touchingly everyday about the subjects of his songs. Little tragedies and little victories in little lives, all portrayed with sympathy, affection and humanity. And all of these qualities come across when you actually meet the man himself." Rory concludes: "one of the abiding mysteries about Ralph is how such a genuinely nice person has become so successful in the music industry". Quite! For Ralph's work is touching indeed, and this quality becomes more apparent the deeper you dig into his œuvre - something that this fine new celebratory box-set affords ample opportunity of so doing. It demonstrates Ralph's artistic consistency over 40 years, as well as charting and following through time the two primary strands of his musical output, the parallel idioms of troubadour songsmithery and bluesy raggy re-creations. (It's salutary to remember that the latter strand was responsible for introducing many UK listeners to the blues idiom, and though the smoothness of Ralph's vocals may have lacked something in grit there was ample recompense in his mature guitar picking.) And though every song of Ralph's has an element of autobiography therein, such is the universality with which his thoughts and experiences are expressed that you don't need to have detailed knowledge of Ralph's life to appreciate the songs or the life-affirming philosophy behind them.
So now it's time to embark on the journey itself, through the four well-filled CDs. Unlike many of the celebratory box-sets previously issued, there seems to be no specifically thematic aspect to the presentation and, unusually too, no rationale for the sequence adopted on the discs is proffered in the booklet, although the running-order turns out to be straightforward in the sense that it's more or less strictly chronological. Disc 1 starts with the very earliest recordings in Ralph's output, three selections from a 1965 demo disc comprising a short ragtime guitar piece (Blind Blake's Drybone Shuffle) then two pretty decent covers (Bells Of Rhymney and Girl From The North Country), both showcasing Ralph's mellifluous voice and easy delivery as well as his even then considerably better than average guitar playing. The first and third of these demo pieces are reprised for comparison in different, later live versions on Discs 3 and 4 respectively: the Travelling Man (1998) version of Girl From The North Country (with missing verse restored), and a lengthier, breathtaking rendition of Drybone Shuffle from 1988. Ralph's jugband predilections are represented by a gleeful 1967 live rendition of Pasadena with Henry Bartlett's band and a fine live Viola Lee Blues from five years later with both Henry B and Wizz Jones in tow. There's a couple of tracks from Ralph's debut LP Eight Frames A Second (expectedly, Nanna's Song, then the wistful, tweely Donovanesque Mermaid And The Seagull), the title track from his second (Spiral Staircase), and two from My Side Of Your Window (Michael In The Garden, Factory Girl) follow in swift succession (any choice of representative tracks from these first three albums would always be a hard one!). And hearing Michael again this time round you'll doubtless find the booklet's critique of this intelligently crafted song extra-illuminating. The rarely-collected 1969 sunshine-pop-folk single Summer Come Along and an undated live Too Tight Rag serve to usher in the epic The Ferryman, a key song in Ralph's canon, which surprisingly is the only selection taken from his landmark 1971 You Well-Meaning Brought Me Here LP (although there's a live version of Birdman from that period to compensate). Ralph's first album for Warner Brothers, Not Till Tomorrow, is represented by arguably its most memorable song, the acutely wistful evocation Barges, and a gutsy alternate take of its lead track Zimmerman Blues featuring a fuller, blowsier arrangement than the album version. Disc 1 closes with the simple yet moving, essential and eternal, personal yet universal truths of Summer Lightning (from Easy) - a perfect example of Ralph's craft.
Disc 2 begins promisingly if a tad predictably, leading off with the sensibly sparsely scored (just guitar, harmonica, bass) take of Streets Of London that had originally surfaced on the US edition of the You Well-Meaning ... LP. Three selections from the 1976 "lost Shel Talmy sessions" come next, including Tequila Sunset and a sensitive interpretation of Randy Newman's Marie. A spare alternative take of River Rising Moon High is followed by Weather The Storm (from 1976's Right Side Up), then a brace of tracks from 1979's Slide Away The Screen, where the arrangements still seem mildly overfacing. Then come the Disc 2 highlights, two previously unreleased 1980-vintage recordings made with John Renbourn: Clive Palmer's poignant A Leaf Must Fall and Jackson C. Frank's Blues Run The Game, both models of tenderness, intensity and delicacy in their delivery. The second of the two Disc 2 tracks to include Richard Thompson amongst Ralph's sidemen showcases RT in a typically stunning solo on Red Apple Juice (taken from a 1981 live performance with the GPs). 1982's erstwhile unreleased song Messrs Stevenson and Watt instances Ralph's keen interest in history. It's then good to find, straddling Discs 2 and 3, a couple of tracks taken from 1982's fine Water Of Dreams set, in the shape of the sublime protest of the title track and the celebrated fable of "local Croydon heroes" Bentley And Craig. Closing Disc 2 is a previously unreleased live recording of the "gentle but powerful indictment of Cold War mentality" Alexi.
Continuing on our journey through Disc 3 we find Ralph's affecting tribute to another of his heroes, the Bahamian guitarist Joseph Spence (Hands Of Joseph), after which we get a sequence of songs written for "children's albums" that reveal Ralph's songwriting craft to be anything but child's play! After the mildly tiresome Kenny The Kangaroo there's Old Puggy Mearns (recorded only last year at Ralph's home), which is especially delectable in a Roald Dahl sort of way, after which it's good to hear again the fun I Like Rubbish (featuring Billy Connolly). Keeping The Night At Bay (another from the kids' collection Tickle On The Tum, this time a delightful lullaby) leads neatly onto one of Ralph's most famous, and intensely poetic, creations From Clare To Here, which is presented here in a 1991 live recording. Following this we get a sequence of blues-inspired cuts, taken from 1988's Blue Skies, Black Heroes, the 1990 compilation Stealin' Back and the 1994 charity collection Out On The Rolling Sea, interspersed with Ralph's wonderfully deft and jaunty Laurel-and-Hardy guitar piece That'll Do Babe (recorded live in 1994) and two selections from his infrequently-heard Dylan Thomas concept album The Boy With The Note. The beautiful, tradition-influenced Irish immigration ballad The Setting (taken from 1983's Bridge Of Sighs) and Ralph's percipient examination of faith Jesus Wept (from 1995's excellent Sand In Your Shoes) then close Disc 3 in fine style.
Finally, Disc 4 carries on where Disc 3 left off, with Sand In Your Shoes' standout track Peppers And Tomatoes - just one of the songs that give the lie to those who've never considered Ralph capable of vicious, biting commentary. Then we're treated to a gorgeous little Cajun-style unreleased outtake from that very album, Rue De La Montaigne St Genevieve, before moving on to illustrate Ralph's winning way with a "standard" (Georgia On My Mind, taken from the 1997 charity compilation of the same name and penned by Hoagy Carmichael, against whose melody writing standards Ralph readily admitted his own had been set). The Travelling Man live take on Nanna's Song is included for comparison with the original 1968 studio take on Disc 1, before bringing things further up to date with two tracks from 2000's fine studio set Red Sky (and although I'd not necessarily have chosen Up, there's no doubting that Easter Lilies is a canny choice that displays the consistency of Ralph's writing over the years). The remainder of Disc 4 takes the chronology on up to the present day, beginning with two suitably relaxed 2001 live recordings of Let Me Down Easy and I'm Satisfied, and a representative track from the following year's National Treasure album. Three more previously unreleased live treasures follow, recorded variously between 2002 and 2004; these include the lovely Still In Dreams and the affectionate tribute to Derroll Adams, A Feather Fell. Then there's Michelle, which formed Ralph's contribution to last year's BBC Rubber Folk Beatles tribute project. The final disc closes with two recordings made only a short while ago: a considered cover of Don't Think Twice It's Alright and, to end with, a superlative rendition of Red And Gold (recorded specially for this box-set) that with its potent sense of history returns to one of Ralph's perennial themes, that man ultimately returns to the soil from which he sprang. That final track encapsulates everything that's so great about Ralph - the strength of his powerful yet understated writing, the simplicity of his expression, the warmth of his singing voice, the deft accomplishment of his guitar accompaniment, the melodiousness of his performing style and the intrinsic integrity of his whole personality. Having reached the end of the discs now, the four CDs have been a journey in the self-evident temporal sense, certainly (from 1965 to the present day), but also a journey through Ralph's fertile creative imagination. It's one which even the more casual admirer of Ralph's music would, I feel sure, on the strength of this well-constructed box-set be sorely tempted to retrace at an early opportunity, while also feeling sufficiently inspired to fill in some of the gaps in his/her collection. The omission of one or two songs which have become more than personal favourites for many (like The Hiring Fair and First And Last Man) is in the end a small price to pay for the discovery of many other less-well-known gems among Ralph's writing.
As well as Paul O. Jenkins' uniformly intelligent 24-page critical essay and Rory McGrath's aforementioned foreword, the booklet also presents a short essay by John Renbourn exploring Ralph's relationship with the guitar, and includes scattered over its pages a host of well-reproduced and relevant photos attractively assembled; there's also a discographical tracklisting (which, however, frustratingly omits recording dates for some of the selections). One disadvantage with the main essay is that although the individual songs/tracks are discussed perfectly credibly within the body of the text, it's not always easy to locate at a glance the reference to each one in isolation unless you've already become familiar with the essay and its layout; this is a minor consideration however, when the commentary is as informed and perceptive as this. Finally, copious credit must go to the indefatigable David Suff who's masterminded the project, for the box's very assemblage has evidently been another supreme labour of love that while effectively celebrating Ralph's long-term achievement also so very persuasively presents a strong case for reassessing Ralph's music.
David Kidman October 2006
Here at last is the DVD release of the ever-so-special concert held at the Royal Festival Hall, London on 26th November 2004 to celebrate Ralph's 60th birthday. A gig with a potent sense of occasion certainly, but no razzamatazz, no marching bands, no overkill hype, just an honest and faithful portrait of a genuine trouper (a description often used but never more apt than to describe this top-class singer-songwriter, as Bob Harris noted in his brief introductory speech before presenting Ralph with three gold discs!). Ralph himself appeared pretty much overwhelmed, and his casual, abundantly friendly introductions to the songs struck an immediate rapport with the capacity audience at this unmissable event. Self-effacing and modest almost to a fault, you might say, yet we wouldn't have it any other way. The set-list for the gig was drawn from all stages of Ralph's long career, with some songs being performed for the first time in ages it seemed - but as Ralph so truthfully observed, "you can't forget the old songs"! And the atmosphere of these special performances has been caught well by the team responsible for this release, in fine sound and straightforward, no-nonsense visual presentation.
The first half of the concert was just Ralph alone on stage, and any very minor lapses in vocal pitching were more than compensated for by the intense yet easy familiarity of Ralph's presence and the naturalness of his performance; Ralph's trademark gentle and unassumingly accomplished guitar playing proved as ever the perfect vehicle for his songs. And as is usual at a Ralph gig, the listener wonders anew at the sheer breadth of his songwriting catalogue ("oh yes, of course, he wrote this one too!")... That first set ranged from an early composition (Gypsy) to a new one (A Feather Fell, dedicated to the memory of Banjoman Derroll Adams), from an instrumental (That'll Do Babe, dedicated to the grace of Oliver Hardy) to two very much celebrated items (From Clare To Here and The Girl From The Hiring Fair, the latter dedicated affectionately to Fairport Convention), with perhaps the most unusual selection being Irish Girl (from Ralph's Dylan Thomas project The Boy With The Note, unjustly neglected even by his fans), on which Ralph played spangly-toned keyboard.
For the second set, Ralph brought on a succession of special guests in turn, beginning with Wizz Jones (for San Francisco Bay Blues and a Woody Guthrie medley, the latter also featuring Chris Parkinson on accordion). A dazzling array of mates (Maartin Allcock, Graham Preskett and Dave Pegg) then joined Ralph (and Chris) for an affecting performance of Old Brown Dog (for which Ralph moved onto the trusty Steinway), which was followed stylishly by a duet with Bert Jansch (on one of whose records Ralph had once played harmonica!) on Moonshine. Cara Dillon was then brought onto the stage to sing her showstopping rendition of Tommy Sands' There Were Roses, before joining Ralph for a lovely duet on After Rain. It was back to the Steinway for Ralph then for a touching performance of Naomi (with violin and viola from Graham P and Frank Gallagher respectively), before the afore-mentioned "crew" came back onstage for Around The Wild Cape Horn and a fun trot through Spiral Staircase. The final few numbers were launched with the inevitable Streets Of London (one of its earliest public performances had been in that very same venue, we learnt), this time with Ralph and his guitar backed by the London Community Gospel Choir, and a "band" rendition of Zimmerman Blues (for which Mike Harding got co-opted for extra harmonica duty!). The Choir (complete with its somewhat distracting swaying "choreography") returned to back Ralph for the closing In The Bleak Midwinter (a touch too sentimental for my taste, and I think you had to be there to savour its full impact, but it was sensitively enough done). "See you down the road" was Ralph's parting shot - for surely, this celebration was truly as he described it: "the start of something, not the end of something". The strains of Happy Birthday (dear Ralph...) echoed through the PA system as the audience filed out contentedly at the end ...
David Kidman
When this CD, Ralph's most recent studio album, was first released over four years ago, it was a limited-availability product. We can now celebrate, for it's being given a full-blown release with distribution by Proper. The re-pressed, repackaged re-release follows Ralph's sell-out 60th birthday concert at London's Royal Festival Hall late last year and coincides with the publication in paperback of his volume of autobiography Angel Laughter.
In 2001 I confessed readily that prior to the millennium, and for some years at that, I'd been guilty of somewhat underestimating Ralph. And that was after loving much of his early output, certainly up to Not Till Tomorrow. Then, like many I suspect, I got fed up of hearing Streets Of London everywhere I turned, and as my own musical explorations became more radical I tended to write Ralph off as a bit middle-of-the-road and yes, unexciting. But I can no longer ignore the accumulation of fine songs he's written over the years, and this new album brings the sheer consistency of Ralph's writing home to me with a vengeance.
On Red Sky, Ralph was certainly on a real creative high, for it provides more than enough evidence that his considerable powers of observation have not waned one jot, and that his voice is still as warm and enticing as ever. He shows himself capable of expressing himself artistically through a wide variety of musical styles with almost equal credibility. The best of these new songs retain that typically McTell humanity through their magically wistful ambience that transcends nostalgia with realism, acutely capturing often complex or contradictory emotional situations and telling universal personal stories. For evocative restraint and depth within simplicity, sample Red Sky At Night and In The Dreamtime, or the eerie piquancy of the coolly passionate, curiously hymn-like Now This Has Started; other standouts include I'll Keep This With Mine, the tender Saucers, I'm Not Really Blue, Up, and the cinematic vignettes of Easter Lilies and Fin, while Bicker And Rue could almost be a forgotten Richard Thompson song.
Several tracks share an attractively jaunty countrified feel too (and even including a more-than-respectable cover of Raining In My Heart). The sessions took place at Woodworm Studios, and the production values are expectedly and unstintingly high. Ralph's backing band here comprises assorted OX15/Fairport mafiosi (Allcock, Pegg, Conway), along with Chris Parkinson, Steve Turner, Mike Piggott and Alan Thomson, and there's some sterling backing vocals from Chris While & Julie Matthews. OK, so not quite every song's a gem; one or two have a fairly bland rockist accompaniment that tends to accentuate their less interesting nature as songs, but within the 19 tracks on this 70-minute CD the proportion of exceptionally fine songs is very high indeed. It really is excellent value, as well as an undisputed pinnacle of Ralph's achievement.
David Kidman
Strange Adventure is the latest, critically acclaimed album from Boston duo, The Mercy Brothers. Consisting of vocalist Barrence Whitfield and guitarist Michael Dinallo, The Mercy Brothers are a bit of a throwback to the days of when it didn't matter what type of music you were playing, as long as you were playing. Another Man Done Gone has a strangely 60s feel to it but its rootsy and the reverb guitar is simply executed. Stay Away From My Door is hard to pigeonhole but if I had to, I'd call it Rootsy rock. Down That Road is acoustic blues in a Furry Lewis/Reverend Gary Davis style. It is energetic and Whitfield lets rip in a gospel style. I Believe I'll Make A Change is classy roots that nods its head to Woody Guthrie and The New Year Blues is simply gentle. Blind Willie McTell's Broke Down Engine is more of the blues, Mercy Brothers style. Very good and played with panache. Working On The Line is well played if a little on the light side. Night Train To Memphis is a Country tinged swinger and Misery Train continues the locomotive theme, moving like a high class train – very smooth with good guitar. Mr Johnson is rootsy again but Whitfield loses it a bit, although that is not a common complaint.
Long Black Train is the first of six live bonus tracks recorded in Oslo, Norway and is unashamed Country and a feel good song into the bargain. California Stars is some more Country flecked musings and is extremely good, as you would expect from a Woody Guthrie song. The live version of The New Year Blues is pleasant and Countrified but the studio version is better. Down That Road stands up to the studio edition and the demonic screams are certainly a change. Misery Train is another of the studio tracks to be given the live treatment and shows them to be a good live band indeed. Pallet On The Floor is more upbeat to the versions that I'm used to. They've electrified it and turned it into an R&B but it is different enough to get you thinking. They finish with a bonus studio track, Terraplane Blues, with voice and guitar only. This is the only way to play this slow, acoustic blues.
David Blue July 2007
Stephin Merritt - Pieces of April (Nonesuch)
Which leaves five brand new numbers, four in his Magnetic guise and one under his own name. The 'solo' offering, One April Day, is a simple two minute pledging my love song set to what sounds like either zither or dulcimer and on which the lyric only puts in an appearance in the final stretch.
The Fields material again underlines Merritt as the missing link between Jonathan Richman and the Flaming Lips, an insightful observer of the light and shade of romance blessed with the ability to sound like a complete ingenue and then set that all to tumblingly infectious melodies. Heather Heather, which sounds like a rough cut demo, turns a sly phrase on lines like 'We belong together, Like sex and violence' while the almost Kinks-like Stray With Me and the country carnival waltzing Dreams Anymore recognise that there'll be times when you have to put up with a lot in the name of love and staying together. Best of the lot though is All I Want To Know, a gorgeous cascading melody twinned to Merritt's sandpapery ache of a voice as he trembles with insecurity about his lover's feelings. As perfect a grown up pop song as you could wish for it ups the anticipation of the next Fields album proper to almost unbearable level.
Mike Davies
After releasing two accomplished and finely judged albums, the lovely Americana-slanted debut Bramble Rose and the more soul-inflected Tambourine, I was rather wondering what Tift might come up with next. Well, at the end of a gruelling tour schedule, she took herself off to Paris on a whim, and it turned out that this was just what she needed, and the effect of being in a completely different location for an extended stay with just a piano for company has clearly been intensely therapeutic - as she herself explains in the eloquently companionable booklet notes.
By and large, Another Country is a reflective set, wholly relaxed in demeanour, in which Tift shows how comfortable she is with her own writing talent and singing voice, looking at life with a new sense of contentment in the midst of searching introspection, and heralding and chronicling a less stressful time in her life. Compared to those previous two records, though, Another Country takes its time to make an impression, especially in its early stages where the more keyboard-dominated textures (reflecting their composition circumstances) and the softer, somehow more toned-down band sound work together to give a more radio-friendly and initially less memorable feel to the songs. That's probably unfair comment, it turns out, for things do improve on successive plays, and indeed later on in the disc further textural variety comes in the form of the Motown-soul brass backing of Tell Me Something True, the gentle country of Tender Branch, the punchier guitar-driven My Heart Is Free and the soothing cabaret-chanson Mille Tendresses (the album's closer, sung in French).
For me, while I'm listening to this disc that word "tender" recurs quite a bit actually, and it's the best description I can muster of Tift's faultless, gently luxurious vocal approach and tone. In the end, Another Country is an airy, cautiously optimistic and likeable collection of songs, but some are a mite insubstantial and the whole set is perhaps not artistically consistent enough to fully convince - it would seem to represent an essential stepping-back-and-reassessing stage rather than a brave new development in Tift's songwriting.
David Kidman June 2008
Tift Merritt -Tambourine (Lost Highway)
Overseen by Black Crowes producer George Drakoulias and with the likes of Maria McKee, Gary Louris and Neal Casal helping out on harmonies, the follow up to the North Carolina singer-songwriter's 2002 debut Bramble Rose is a considerably different creature. While Still Pretending may evoke the whiskier fumes of Patsy Cline's barroom and Write My Ticket carries on down the Lucinda Williams gravel road, the country roots flavours of its predecessor have been pretty much kicked into touch in favour of a raunchier rock-soul flavour. The emphasis here is far more on the Bonnie Raitt r&b end of the comparisons with a dose of Van Morrison, Aretha and, on the horn laden Good Hearted Man, Dusty in Memphis influences thrown in.
The songs remain honest and strong, their heart wounds open and stained with regret on the likes of the slow dance ache of a standout Plainest Thing (with Mike Campbell on hymnal pump organ) while Laid A Highway's snapshot of a dying mill town sees her storytelling undiminished.
It may disappoint those hoping she'd travel further down the Emmylou road, but from the opening strum of Stray Paper (with a guitar intro reminiscent of My Sweet Lord) with its hints of Jayhawks and the swaggering early Pettyisms of Wait It Out to the Memphis Hornsy tail feather shaking of I Am Your Tambourine and piano rolling boogie gospel mood of Shadow In The Way those southern cooking Staxy flavours make this a decidedly tasty musical barbecue.
Mike Davies
Tift Merritt - Bramble Rose (Lost Highway)
Out of North Carolina and championed by Ryan Adams after she played solo support for his Raleigh gig, Merritt is being touted as country's next big thing. This is overstating the case at present and in saying she'd like to emulate the likes of Emmylou, Ronstadt and Raitt she herself underlines the fact that although she's got a strong catch to the throat voice, the album too often sounds like a coming together of her influences. Bird of Freedom and the autobiographical Sunday find her in country blues Bonnie mood, I Know Him Too and Diamond Shoes peel off pedal steel and sweet voice in Harris fashion while Linda's flags are waved on the opening Trouble Over Me. There'll be some Sheryl Crow comparisons with strutting Neighbourhood too. However, as evidenced by the Appalachian twangy Virginia, No One Can Warn You, a plaintive Supposed To Make You Happy, a slow waltzing Patsy Cline-like Are You Still In Love With Me and the keening destined to be classic title track there's no denying that she writes some great literate and emotional songs and, recorded live, clearly has an exceptional vocal ability. If she can follow Adams' footsteps by finding her own individual style, then there's every chance those predictions could indeed be prophetic.
Mike Davies
The debut release by Norwich troubadour Rory (recently a finalist at the Red Stripe Music Awards), who operates within the netherworld of traditional song craft, may initially seem a fairly low-key affair, but as the disc plays on through it becomes an increasingly present and very attractive one. Perhaps the first thing that grabs the ear is Rory's rather spellbinding singing voice, an uncommonly flexible instrument that sneaks and croons in a high register, combining the vulnerability of Morrissey with the youthful confidence of Robyn Hitchcock. But his songs are heard to embody a peculiar type of yearning all their own, incorporating classy influences back from Roy Orbison, David Bowie and Lou Reed rather than wallowing in self-pity or attempting some kind of pastel reflection. For instance, the brief One More Lullaby could easily have become twee, but the minimal acoustic setting and Rory's gently impassioned delivery banish any potential misgivings. On other songs, Rory bestows an inventive electric setting, where he gets help from (among others) Shane Olinski, Owen Turner and Andrew Rayner, while cello, violin, cornet and French horn also make fleeting appearances during the course of the album, along with some mildly eccentric percussion. Throughout the album in fact, I like Rory's imaginative use of unusual (and indeed more usual) instrumental colours and textures to mirror the moods and sentiments of his simply personal but uncannily expressive little songs. All Your Life shuffles eerily along its rails to a deep twang guitar and slow-builds to a surprisingly cacophonous climax, whereas No More Do I Care has the distinct aura of classic Smiths insouciant whimsy and the brooding Resentments is reminiscent of the less manic side of Nick Harper. The third of the more extended tracks, Pretend Song, is a weirdly menacing creation that says much in remarkably few words, to an increasingly unsettling electro-electronic backdrop (leading to a Smiths-like bridge before the distortion-rich peroration), contrasting with the closing Goodbye To An Old Friend, a telling, if lo-fi rumination. Rory has no need to apologise for wearing some of influences on his sleeve, nor for his undoubted talent, and I'm impressed enough by his debut to want to make a point of looking out for the followup.
www.rorymcvicar.com
www.myspace.com/rorymcvicar
David Kidman December 2007
Christine McVie - In The Meantime (Sanctuary)
I guess the hardest part of being Christine McVie is to try and escape being Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac. The band are woven into the fabric of popular culture and famously the McVie song Don't Stop became the anthem of the late 20th century's iconic president, Bill Clinton. It may have been a gilded cage but a cage is still a cage.
So it's a real shame that she didn't seize the opportunity to completely break free. In The Meantime was a golden chance for her to return to her roots and show just what a gutsy singer she can be. When you add her experience and immense talent to the equation, the mind boggles at what she could and should, have achieved. If only she'd been a little braver and perhaps averted her gaze from the American market.
This is a very slick, very professional album, the production is lush and lavish. Unfortunately, the only thing that all that care and attention achieves is to squeeze the life and spirit out of one of pop's great writers. You Are is beautifully written but it just isn't given the opportunity to fly. Even the atmospheric Northern Star struggles, largely because there's so much going on in the background. Just McVie and a guitar would have been perfect.
Infuriatingly, every now and again the embers flicker into life. Calumny has real feeling and, best of all, Givin' It Back may just be a taste of better things to come.
I suppose that In The Meantime is an example of just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Hopefully it's the album others wanted her to make and the next one will be the one she wants to make.
Talent like Christine McVie's doesn't grow on trees and it doesn't just disappear. But the legacy of Fleetwood Mac is that she is judged by different criteria, it may be a harsh fact of life but it is a fact. And, as much as I wanted to really like In The Meantime, she surely has more to offer as a musician than Mac-lite.
Michael Mee
From the enterprising new label that's already brought us (among others) Lau, Kris Drever, Jon Redfern and Joan As Police Woman, this is undoubtedly the most enigmatic of the latest batch of releases. The pre-album taster-single Calling For Love was a deceptively candy-pop confection that's easily the lightest thing on the album, and not altogether representative of its world. The band name Madam is a collective sobriquet for a particularly foxy sound-surround of musicians encasing the sultry vocal chords of songwriter Sukie Smith. The whole album is a forty-minute parade of intoxicating aural images that exude both danger and vulnerability, steeped as much in lost-highway Americana as Portishead gothic. To the untutored ear it'll all seem decidedly strange, but there's a weird twisted Eraserhead skewed logic to the disturbingly conversational lyrics and late-night musical backdrops that are often the stuff of small-town nightmares. The atmosphere conjured by Sukie's lyricscapes is stunning: primordially filmic yet embroiled in a back-projection definitively manipulated in the very darkest recesses of a studio. Its inventiveness is its fragile beauty, yet its tread is heavy enough to shatter any illusions of undue glamour. There's way too much to take in on one or two or even a half-dozen playthroughs: indeed, it's taken me more than that to get this far with a review. For music this simple to sound this opaque, is some trick to play - and Sukie's one hell of a femme-fatale! It's one step beyond Nico and the Velvet Underground, moving the far side of noir, maybe Nick Cave via Tarnation and the Cowboy Junkies, with dark hints of Cohen and minimalist troubadours like Jeffrey Foucault and Danny Schmidt... get the picture? Probably not quite.. you just gotta hear Madam for yourself, for Sukie and her band make quite extraordinary music.
www.madam.org.uk
www.myspace.com/madammusic
David Kidman March 2008
Madison Violet comprises Brenley MacEachern and Lisa MacIsaac, who both hail from small-town Canada. Over the course of three albums and five years, their musical ambit has shifted from pop-folk (2004's Worry The Jury) through alt-country (2006's Caravan) to their latest, which seems to bring more backwoods-folk into the mix (as well as instigating a name-change – from Madviolet, in case you're wondering). Their (jointly self-penned) songs are if anything now more keenly crafted, with almost every track making a strong impact. With a stock-in-trade of heartfelt heartbreak and longing and loss that comes as no surprise I guess, but the overall vibe is quite soft-tinged with a soundscape that's gently driven by banjo and/or acoustic guitar with occasional fiddle from Lisa (most impressive) and a modicum of accordion, pedal steel, slide and mandolin from colleague Les Cooper and a select crew of other musicians. Good though the openers are, it's the songs in the middle section of the disc that are the most lasting - the tenderly soulful Small Of My Heart, followed by the small-time electric combo adding drama to Baby In The Black And White, and the powerful tale of The Woodshop. Perhaps with Best Part Of Your Love the level of invention slackens a touch, and Time And Tide doesn't quite set the seal on the whole set, but there's plenty of satisfying - if understated - craft on display generally on No Fool For Trying: more than enough to convince me that Madison Violet deserve to be taken seriously. A haunting and quietly stimulating record.
David Kidman September 2009
This young north-west-based five-piece has been causing a stir on the circuit for a while, but Sofa is their debut release; it's an exciting, refreshing and sometimes unpredictable experience. The band members met while studying at the Royal Northern College Of Music, and they draw from a diverse pool of musical experience and sensibilities. Here they take British folk tunes and songs and inventively transform them into a veritable cocktail of folk, jazz, Latin, funk and various musics from right across the globe. Salma Adam (flute), Sarah Stuart (fiddle), Paul-Isaac Franks (guitar), Olly Hamilton (piano, synth, accordion) and Toby Kearney (percussion) together employ a broad instrumental palette, with occasional creative enhancement from electronics. All five sing (and well too, with some appealing harmony work), although the lead vocal role is taken by Salma: her voice has a cool, jazzy inflection but it's not without keen expressive capabilities. The five songs themselves, to be brutally honest, seem a slightly unadventurous choice, but the treatments are nevertheless mostly interesting: I Drew My Ship and Geordie are both eerily atmospheric, Two Magicians benefits from an exuberant latin-jazz vibe, and whereas the Maerlock's take on Twa Corbies uses an Anglicised text, this awkwardness is redeemed by an attractive Eastern European feel and string quartet scoring. The opening instrumental set Macedonian Tune starts the CD on a high, with stabbing irregular percussive rhythms that suddenly melt into a freer Latin groove, after which a funkier section heralds a gear-change into a frantic reel with tumbling piano figurations. Salma's distinctly jazzy flute playing is a strong feature here, and together with Sarah's fiery fiddling provides a bold front-line through which Olly can weave his gleeful jazzy-classical improvisations. Vital though all the playing is, however, there's sometimes an inescapable hint of over-uniformity in the arrangements; happily this doesn't apply in the case of the two different versions of the Jungle Queen set, the second of which showcases the bold, brassy and funky 13-piece Maerlock Big Band, which augments the quintet with a line of horns, a rhythm section and an extra fiddle; the sense of ensemble is very impressive indeed. Well, in the end I'm not quite sure where The Maerlock may be heading, but (to coin a phrase) sofa so good!
David Kidman July 2008
Magic Car - Family Matters (Tiny Dog)
While the musical mood's a little more downbeat, it's no huge departure from the critically acclaimed debut (though they're now attracting guests of the calibre of Rick Kemp) with its mix of high lonesome wistfulness (White Knuckle Ride), the slow barroom waltz (Small Town Saturday Night), folk country blues (Cinderella # 1 sounding very much like the Junkies doing Dylan), and yearning Gram inspired wearied and rust-rimmed country (Gold Wing Queen).
There's some fine, melancholic songs here, Small Town Saturday Night's snapshot of bored lives, the Badlands boy with a gun scenario Seventeen and the salvation in love that is the simple cracked Baltimore among the finest. However, while Smeeton clearly has a way with a striking image as he talks of witches that laugh like a drunk giraffe and ancient sea creatures floating by like helium balloons, he also has a tendency to deflate the material with groaning rhymes such as Terrible Thing's tale of fame turned sour and talent where he notes "he looked like a prince with his primitive rinse'. That said, it's still hard to resist a smile on The Biker's Lament, is a deadpan tongue in cheek addition to the Leader of the Pack, Terry lineage of dead biker songs that, set to a mournful backwoods sway, features the line "there's a scar on the tarmac and a scar in my heart for you".
Mike Davies
2006 Blues Music Award nominee for Contemporary Female Blues Artist of the Year Janiva Magness is described by Delbert McClinton as ".... sings with a rare conviction. She will not be denied.". What is confirmed by listening to Do I Love You? is that Janiva Magness is a supremely confident blues vocalist. The funky blues of I'm Just A Prisoner (Of Your Good Lovin') showcases her smokey voice and is a powerful opener. Her tight band gives an excellent backdrop to her superb blues/rock vocal. Willie Dixon's Workin' On Me Baby is given a shuffling blues treatment and shows that Janiva can be a real diva if she turns her hand to it. You Were Never Mine (co-written by the aforementioned Mr. McClinton) has Janiva producing another facet to her singing. This time she is slow and soulful and the layers of her voice are nothing less than spectacular. Bassist Jeff Turmes contributes three songs to the album, the first being I Can't Stop Cryin'. This is the real deal and could easily be mistaken for an authentic song from the blues heyday. It's Turmes again, this time on Don't Let Your Memories but unfortunately, this acoustic blues is a bit tame.
Janiva and the band are back on form with classic R&B in the form of I Want You To Have Everything. This is sung with panache and cements her place as one of the best North American contemporary blues singers around. The title track (written by Nina Simone) is a slow, electric blues with Hammond organ from Richard Bell giving the basis of the sound as it does on many others. The very sultry Magness asks the questions and you feel that you better know the answers. Bad Blood is the last of Jeff Turmes' songs and is probably the best of the trio. The stuttering guitar and gritty soul will make it a favourite for some time to come. There's some big band blues on I Give Up. This is a real swinger and confirms that Janiva can turn in a high standard on more than one blues sub-genre. Stealin' Sugar is old style and almost vaudeville. There's even a washboard (rub board) on this highly entertaining track. The album finishes in the same strong fashion in which it started with the very strong blues rock of A Man Size Job. It is no wonder that Janiva is held in the high regard that she is when she can produce work to the standard of Do I Move You?
www.northernblues.com
www.janivamagness.com
David Blue April 2006
The Magnetic Fields - i (Nonesuch)
The 69 Love Songs box set established baritone Stephen Merritt among the dreamiest of bruised romance singer-songwriters and he recently provided the beguilingly wonderful soundtrack for Pieces of April. Now he returns signed to a major label with 14 alphabetically ordered songs beginning with the letter 'i' and which, for the first time, turn the lyrical focus back on himself and what seems to be his fairly disastrous way with relationships.
Those who found Merritt's simple uncluttered lo fi melodies one of the most appealing factors to the music may not be enamoured of the fuller arrangements here where he bulks up the electronica with strings, pianos, banjos, ukuleles and, on the wryly cynical In An Operetta even what sounds like a tinkling harpsichord. As a result much of the previous Cole Porter infused individuality is replaced by easy to draw comparisons to Badly Drawn Boy and The Divine Comedy. Heck, I Thought You Were My Boyfriend even sounds like an old Human League outtake. It must be said too that the arrangement does rather spoil It's Only Time which would otherwise be one of the most meltingly lovely devotions of love he's written just as the fractured high-strung setting of Is This What They Used To Call Love? Undermines an otherwise fabulous jazz blues torch song.
Not that the charm and wit isn't still there. I Die is a gorgeous broken hearted tinkler and both I Don't Believe You and the catty I Don't Really Love You Anymore are as infectious fizzes of tumbling pop as anything off his previous epic while the faltering melody of self-deprecating I'm Tongue Tied soft shoes with a beguiling coconut island beach bar ambience. Maybe next time though a little less could prove a lot more again.
Mike Davies
Chris Grabau's burred vocals are an obvious immediate attraction while the band around him peel off fine work on guitars (12 string included), pedal steel and fiddle in the service of keening melodies and uplifting chords. They get a touch carried away by extending the ballad Diminished Returns to nearly six minutes with a lengthy instrumental coda and Wrong Chords is a bit of an aimless rocker, but, closing out with the slow building anthemic arms waving swayer Epitaph, this deserves to be the album that spreads their name beyond the current circle of converts.
Eco-friendly PS: The sleeve is made from recycled and recyclable materials and the CD is printed with vegetable-based inks
www.myspace.com/magnoliasummer
Mike Davies June 2009
Here's the first of 2007's seasonal offerings to come my way! Actually, there's a significantly smaller pile of CDs under the tree this year, and if this one represented the standard of all of them I'd be well pleased to receive them as presents. The Oxford-based ensemble Magpie Lane are known for their energetic, abundantly spirited music-making, while their previous releases have satisfied almost as much with their intelligent thematic programming as with the excellence of their musical content. Although Magpie Lane have for some years hosted their own annual Christmas concert at Oxford's Holywell Music Rooms, their excursions on record are less frequent, and their earlier seasonal offering, Wassail: A Country Christmas, is now over ten years old, so it could be argued that a new selection is well due. For Knock At The Knocker, English traditional songs and dance tunes again remain at the core, and this wonderful "village-band" presents a superb selection of Christmas music, the majority of which is probably little heard outside the localities where it's been collected. The most familiar items here (and even then I suspect only to folkies frequenting the more traditional of festive gatherings) are Nowell Nowell, The Cherry Tree Carol and Foster (one of the myriad of South Yorkshire settings of While Shepherds Watched). Even so, other items on the disc might spring some surprises on the unwary: A Virgin Unspotted uses the tune normally associated with the Admiral Benbow ballad, while The Nine Joys Of Mary (sourced from one of the Roy Palmer books) uses a variant of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. The rumbustiousness of Martin Graebe's November Drinking Song (the only item on the disc not specifically Christmas-tied) is utterly infectious, even if the lyric is delivered at a quite furious pace that even for the song-leader is almost out of control (at any rate it would be for any assembled drunken company to try and join in with)! This air of gleeful abandon spills over into The Wren Boys' Song (whence comes the CD title), its stirring polka-postlude and also the two purely instrumental tracks which pair lively tunes from old manuscripts (sourced from Lancashire, Northumbria, Ireland and Scotland). But every single item, whatever its tempo or metre, is given the fully committed Magpie Lane treatment, with lusty singing from all six more than able participants that uses both harmony and unison as well as some delightful soloing, all complemented by superbly organised instrumental accompaniment, with thoroughly enjoyable and accomplished arrangements that fully suit the texts and enhance the mood without being obtrusive in any way. Such is the standard and variety of the music-making that it's equally desirable to play the whole CD through as a concert or to cherry-pick individual items to savour repeatedly. I can honestly say that I mightily enjoyed every selection, from the acappella items to the more fully-fledged band pieces. The only other thing I need to mention is that the Magpie Lane lineup on this new CD is slightly different from that on Six For Gold, Jon Fletcher having since replaced Benji Kirkpatrick in the guitar/bouzouki/mando role, while additionally Giles Lewin guests on bagpipes and smallpipes. If you enjoyed the Watersons' Frost And Fire, either the show or the CD, then Magpie Lane will be right up your street; and if you feel the need for a feelgood revitalisation of the whole concept of Christmas spirit, then this CD is a great place to get your fix, an ideal Christmas present for Christmas present.
David Kidman December 2007
This Oxfordshire combo has always delivered the goods with its forthright, fresh and lively interpretations of songs and dance tunes from the English tradition, and this, their sixth release, does not disappoint. Although the group remains a six-piece, Tom Bower and Di Whitehead have departed and their places alongside the stalwart founding trio (Ian Giles, Mat Green and Andy Turner) and Benji Kirkpatrick have been taken by newcomers Marguerite Hutchinson (whistles, recorders, flute) and Sophie Polhill (cello), both of whom also take turns at lead vocal duties. The new recruits add even more spice and variety to an already spicy and varied instrumental and vocal palette. When everyone is playing, the consort sound is fulsome indeed, possibly on occasions a little over-rich, but the well-blended individual instrumental colours are always clearly audible and the trademark group vitality is dynamic, exciting and most infectious. The 71 minutes of this well-filled CD amount to an epic journey through the English folk tradition, during the course of which the group revisits no less than13 songs, mixing "classics" with less familiar material, and always in interesting and convincing variants (whose source and context is always well explained in the admirable booklet notes). Sensibly, the songs are punctuated with three totally instrumental tracks, which range from a pair of sprightly 18th century dance tunes by Oxford's own John Malchair to a coupling of a French tune (Ganivelle) with a polka composed by Andy himself. Some of the songs also incorporate dance tunes - the ensemble has particular fun with the closing My Old Hat That I Got On (with a chorus that's a close relative of All For Me Grog). My earlier slight reservation regarding the fulsomeness of the sound surfaces also in respect of one or two of the songs, and you might also feel that an abundance of ancillary harmonies (however well managed) can sometimes clutter and distract from the melody line, as on The Constant Lovers. I'll admit that on first playthrough I wasn't always entirely convinced by one or two of the ladies' lead vocal contributions - Sophie's on John Reilly, and Marguerite's on Bold William Taylor, for example, which at first appeared a tad over-decorated, even florid, but in fact I found I soon warmed to them. All of these minor points will probably be viewed as virtually negligible in the context of the uniformly invigorating impact of this welcomingly accessible CD, I must say.
David Kidman
"Not Pious in the proper sense, but Chattering like a Bird, Of Sin and Grace - in such a Case, Magpiety's the Word." Here, Magpiety's a duo consisting of Anne Marie Summers and Esme Ryder, both of whom were born in Wales but now live in the north-east. This, which would seem to be their début CD, is subtitled "folksongs from Northumbria and the south"; many of the songs are maritime ballads told from the woman's perspective, whereas the Northumbrian material is mostly drawn from the 19th century Northumbrian Minstrelsy source book. Magpiety present all these traditional songs and tunes in a uniformly imaginative way, using a stimulatingly different approach that owes much to the early music scene yet carries none of the unduly dusty trappings you might expect from that connotation. In a nutshell, their music grabs your attention right away, and then just won't let go. Each of the ladies possesses a highly individual singing voice - a clear soprano and a dark-toned contralto respectively - and the resultant harmonies are both intriguing and striking. As if their vocal prowess were not enough, their instrumental skills are formidable too - Esme plays accordion, while Anne Marie (who's also a member of The Wendigo and Zephyrus and the medieval ensemble Misericordia) plays bagpipes, hurdy-gurdy, clarinet and recorder - one of her specialities is accompanying her own singing on the small-pipes (not an easy feat!). Magpiety's repertoire cannily intermingles familiar and unfamiliar material - the former (The Blacksmith, I Live Not Where I Love, Searching For Lambs and Polly On The Shore, for instance) are dusted down and revisited from a fresh angle, and almost become new songs while retaining the intrinsic stylistic features of more overtly "traditional" readings. The indigenous north-eastern contingent on this CD (just under half of the 17 tracks) includes Dol-li-a, the fine old lullaby A U Hinny Bird, Elsie Marley and When Aa Was Young; really compelling and exceptionally realised versions all. Finally, Magpiety also co-opt extra musicians from time to time (Stephen Tyler, Frank Lee and Phil Tyler), who feature intermittently on this CD. The CD's title, by the way, is a 14th century colloquialism meaning "to busy oneself and to do any nice and silly thing one likes"; apt, that, for while this CD's playing, I can't think of a better way to busy yourself…
David Kidman
Dónal is an excellent (if underrated) singer whose previous albums have given me much pleasure and inspiration. Though he stresses that he's no historian, he takes his song research and performance seriously, and his latest CD presents a satisfying, and at times quite challenging sequence of broadside ballads reflecting the life and times of one Michael Davitt (1846-1906), according to Dónal's liner note "one of the most significant personalities in nineteenth-century Irish history", whose achievement tends to be overshadowed by those of his co-agitator Parnell; in effect, Davitt paved the way for Home Rule through his involvement in the agrarian reform movement of the National Land League. Dónal's selection of material is both intelligent and expertly coordinated, much in the way of a thematic concept record but entirely without the unfortunate air of contrivance such a project often entails. The songs were originally an integral part of Triumph Over Adversity, an illustrated musical lecture on Davitt which Dónal began touring in August last year; they form a well-rounded selection too, the broadsides portraying a true cross-section of the views of "ordinary people" of the time and their perception of events both political and domestic. And before I forget, Dónal's booklet notes, which sit proudly alongside the reproduced complete song texts, are absolutely exemplary: highly informative, extensive, well ordered and abundantly relevant. The disc kicks off with a rendition of Rocky Road To Dublin which due to the sensibly sedate pace adopted (a neat antidote to the usual auto-pilot pub-folk of the breakneck Dubliners version) permits the words to be heard and savoured, enabling the song's true theme of "intra-Irish discrimination" to percolate through its strong imagery. Here Dónal is backed by his own tenor banjo; he plays guitar on two other songs, and John Murphy's uilleann pipes accompany Druimfhionn Donn Dílis, but for most of the disc Dónal sings unaccompanied (albeit with a small chorus of backing singers on four of the songs including a rousing Wheels Of The World). Bearing in mind that many of the broadsides would have lacked printed tunes, Dónal has made canny and appropriate use of relatively familiar tunes or adaptations thereof: for instance, the tale of immigrant labourer Michael Murphy (written by Robert West Whalley in Lancashire dialect) is set to Slieve Gallion Brae, while the powerful A Clearance Melody carries deliberate echoes of Westlin' Winds to evoke its comparison of the savage and the tender. The closing track, Mayo, is a tender paean to that County penned by Andrew Houston, who (like Dónal himself and Davitt before him) had migrated to Lancashire's Rossendale Valley. Here, as throughout, Dónal's superbly controlled singing, with its natural phrasing and subtle, restrained approach to ornamentation, proves a constant gentle delight. And, entirely aptly, the album is dedicated with affection and respect to Dónal's friend, the late (and great) Frank Harte.
David Kidman February 2007
Born in London but now living an eco friendly life in the Australian bush, Maguire learned to read music when she was 3. Nine years later she was being taught the cello by Paul Tortelier. A classical career loomed until she discovered Bob Marley and, on her 21st birthday, was given a guitar. Teaching herself to play from his Legend songbook, she then set about starting to write her own songs.
Moving to Australia in 2003, the following year saw the release of her debut album, Stranger Place, the opening track of which, The Real World, earned an invite to open for Gail Ann Dorsey at the Borderline Singer-Songwrter Festival. Two years later came her sophomore release, Keep Walking, an album inspired by her 10 year struggle to recover the use of her legs following a serious car crash when she was 17. That album saw her profile elevated considerably with invites to tour with the likes of Don McLean, Eric Bibb and Glen Tilbrook.
Now comes album number three. The Joni, Natalie Merchant and Dido touches are still present as is the mix of folk and jazz on numbers such as the ballad Wanting Time, plaintive waltzer Start Over Again and the bossa scuffed Autumn Leaves.
But she's also tapped into a poky AOR rock seam that manifests itself in the big building Brave New World, the muscular title track, a soaring Free, and the swaggery chugging guitar slinging I'd Rather Be where shades of both Rumours era Fleetwood Mac and Thea Gilmore are evident.
Vaguely reminiscent of Mike Oldfield's Moonlight Shadow, the breathy voiced, acoustic, strings laced single Lighthouse Man should leverage plenty of airplay and having already established a solid reputation as a live performer, it seems she'll increasingly be seeing less and less of her place back home. Give it a listen, she'll make a believer of you, too.
Mike Davies November 2009
Disappointingly Maki's last album, On High, slipped past unnoticed and unpromoted so the arrival of the Canadian singer-songwriter's fourth studio release is a particularly welcome start to the new decade.
Recorded live with few overdubs, as is her custom, working with musicians that included Howe Gelb and Thoger Lund from Giant Sand, Arcade Fire drummer Jeremy Gara, and Calexico's Nick Luca and Jacob Venezuela, eight of the songs were laid down over a two day session at WaveLab in Tucson during a break from promoting On High.
None of them had been played to anyone else before and Maki herself was uncertain on what direction they might take. Thus, on the one hand there's the folksy rockabilly train time chug of Rage In A Cage while at the other end of the spectrum Upon A Time is two naked uncluttered hushed minutes of Maki's voice and electric guitar.
Unfiltered by predetermined paths, a mix of influences that variously embrace Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Leonard Cohen, Anne Murray, Beth Gibbons, and Neko Case, also wove themselves into the recordings as they unfolded.
Duetting with Gelb who also provides organ, Bloodshot & Blistered opens the album on a bluesy late night slouch that simply ends on the line 'look out the window' before In Comes The Light picks up the tempo for a backbeat shuffle and a guitar break that slides in from another reality before the song resumes.
Another soft shoe shuffle rhythm, From Below highlights the woozy melancholia of Maki's dusty voice before Message Delivered conjures the hot desert outside the studio walls with its bluesy organ and upright bass, gathering the pace as it goes to mutate into a full blooded trumpet and piano mariachi boogie swirl.
A fairground waltzer with Gara providing brushed percussion and vibraphone and Gelb tinkling the ivories, Dig You A Grave is one of the album's lo fi highlights but, as with the opening cut, it falls away just as it's getting really interesting.
The same's true of the Tucson session itself, cut short when the desert heat took its toll on Maki's voice, but gradually disappearing as the recordings were laid down, that's also part of the album's unquantifiable magic.
Short on numbers, back in Ontarioa day was spent adding two further tracks with different musicians. However, while the intention was clearly to re-invoke the desert mood, while both the bluesy brooding Rip Out The Moon and the jauntier, steel, accordion and trumpet Texicali shuffling Crossfire would be strong elements of another album, they don't quite have the same spooked quality of the Arizonan otherness. It'll be interesting to see how, once she's digested the experience, how it informs the next album.
Mike Davies January 2010
Kate Maki - The Sun Will Find Us (Independent)
Canada's proving quite a treasure house of Americana singer-songwriters. Case in point Maki's sophomore release album which finds her working with Ruth Minnikin and two of her fellow former Guthries. Maki's honeyed weariness is displayed in fine form on the opening pedal steel flavoured First Impression, proceeding to beguile on a set of shifting sounds that embrace the Band flavours of the waltzing One By One with its throaty guitars, cranking up the Southern soul brassiness with Someone Better, tripping round the honky tonk with the old school fiddle and pedal steel country of Old Guitar and peeking through the smoky back room curtains of Western Swing and mazurka with Defend The End.
Steeped in melancholy but never brought to its knees by sadness, the slow shufflingly resigned wounded memories of Another Storm and the inspirational defy the odds woozy swayer To Get Across provide two potent highlights, but the sun shines bright throughout.
Mike Davies
Austin (Texas)-based singer-songwriter Karen follows up her most recent collection, one of exclusively traditional material (2006's Dark-Eyed Sailor), by returning principally to original composition for The Space Between, which comprises 11 new songs (all but two of which are self-penned or jointly self-penned) and two trad-arrs. (the mandolin waltz Flavia and the beautiful Te Acuerdo En Mis Sueños, for which Karen has written Spanish lyrics). It's an attractive set, on which Karen's signature charming, seductively beckoning voice is ideally suited to the sentiments she's expressing – ironically perhaps, most of all on one of the songs Karen didn't write: Rachel Ries's For You Only. The gentle, thoughtful nature of Karen's own songwriting is clearly reflected in the soft-textured accompaniments she conjures from her fellow-musicians, the nucleus of which comprises bassist Bill Small, fiddle player Warren Hood and (most notably) dobroist Colin Brooks. It's a different team from that which Karen employed on Dark Eyed Sailor, but the effect is similar: tasteful, accessible and pleasingly characterised, and I really liked the majority of the songs, especially Falling, Beneath My Quilt, White Cloud (by Jonathan Byrd) and the wistful (and award-winning) Suitcase Full Of Memories (which also features an uncredited harmonica player). Perhaps there's a mild sense of tweeness to A Sailor Returns From The Sea, but Karen sidesteps potential cliché better elsewhere, for instance on Everything About You. And if you need the translation for Te Acuerdo... or lyrics for the rest, all that's freely available on Karen's website.
David Kidman March 2008
Mm, this one's a real goodie! This teenage duo has been described as the new breed of blues musicians – but on this evidence they're much more than that. Lead vocalist Scarlett Wrench and guitarist George Perez clearly have the music in their souls, but embody a gutsy sensibility that springs right from (or else gets right to) the deepest roots of the music they play, whether it's out-and-out blues standards or R&B or other classics from the 60s. Yet unbelievably, this record almost didn't get made at all, let alone released, for a series of reasons too convoluted to go into here. Especially considering its genesis in the ill-fated early incarnation of the Malchicks (BirdWrench Hoffmann) and all the successive health tragedies and other catastrophes – but thank goodness it made it, literally "dragged back from the crossroads" it would seem. One glance at the tracklist - almost entirely tried-and-tested covers - wouldn't immediately inspire a prospective purchaser terribly much, I suspect, but hey trust me, what the Malchicks do with these songs is something really, really special. Opening a CD with a cool, Margo-Timmins-like take on A Taste Of Honey is a stroke of genius to start with, but one's senses are confounded further when this is followed by a raunchy, blistering Baby Please Don't Go and a Neanderthal bash through Mojo Working. The album trips on down the highway of collective memory with more brilliant covers that display the duo's uncanny, nay, unearthly deep spiritual understanding of the rawest essences of the music. I could further single out a smouldering I Put A Spell On You, a superbly rough-house Boom Boom, an enchanting Black Girl and a surprisingly delicate, poised Little Bird - tho' I'm not totally sure where and how the Malchicks' driving rendition of Glenn Danzig's Thirteen fits into their scheme of things, and their lazy ol' Freight Train doesn't quite "go so fast", their boxcars chugging along more in mid-tempo. But to finish, there's what's definitely become my favourite version of Hallelujah (one of my hitherto less favourite Leonard Cohen songs). Self-evident though the remarkable talents of Scarlett and George are, no small measure of credit for the success of To Kill A Mocking Bird is due to the firm guiding hand of ex-Pretty Thing Dick Taylor (who, along with Mark St. John, Phil May, Arthur Brown and original band drummer Bryn Hoffmann, also appears on the album). Truly exceptional - just don't you miss this one!
www.zohomusic.com
www.myspace.com/themalchicks
David Kidman October 2007
Having released two excellent studio albums in Glitter In The Gutter and The Fine Art of Self Destruction, hooking in both Ryan Adams and Springsteen to make guest appearances. I'm not really sure of the point to this acoustic live set. He's a fine storytelling songwriter with an strong adenoidal vocal, but these stripped back versions no neither too many favours. Part of the power to the originals of Broken Radio, Lucinda and Wendy was their full blooded arrangements, and, perversely, while affording a more intense focus on what he has to say, the more exposed versions prove somehow less compelling.
The live selection's drawn from his three solo albums, and in addition to these mentioned also includes Cigarettes & Violets, Hotel Columbia and Aftermath though, oddly, not his breakthrough Queen of the Underworld, plus a cover of Helpless that reminds you of his Neil influences.
As an enticement, there's also five new studio tracks of which Megan Don't Know is solidly in his upbeat Springsteen guitar rocking mode (and references John Hughes' Sixteen Candles) though at 75 seconds It's Not Enough seems more of a sketch than a fully developed song. Harking back to his recent covers collection, there's two more here; a fair version of Tim Hardin's Lady From Baltimore and, duetting with Bree Sharp a frankly pointlessly faithful Fairytale Of New York; well, faithful that is apart from singing Happy Christmas Your Ass rather than 'arse', which rather spoils its charm. It'll do to tide over his following until the next studio set, but it'll not be adding any new acolytes to the list.
Mike Davies December 2008
Flower And Iron is the quintet's fourth album for Greentrax, and the label's continuing faith in them is well placed for it's definitely their finest yet. Indeed, Malinky now seem to have the best of all worlds with their current (newly revised) lineup, which comprises Fiona Hunter (cello), Mark Dunlop (whistle, flute, bodhrán), Mike Vass (fiddle, guitar) and a brace of guitar/bouzouki players Steve Byrne and Dave Wood (Mike and Dave having recently replaced Ewan Macpherson and Jon Bews, if you're following such matters!).
Their impeccable and elegantly creative musicianship is boosted into the listening stratosphere by the band's even bigger selling-point of having within their ranks no fewer than three top-class lead vocalists (Steve, Fiona and Mark), which means they're able to command a wide variety of expression and thus perform a more diverse range of songs than many other bands. They choose well, too, and this latest offering presents some particularly stimulating material (much of it new to me) alongside a satisfying (and very imaginatively arranged) Scots variant of The Broomfield Hill. In addition to the latter, Fiona sings lead on three other songs, including a tender rendition of Willie Mitchell's traditional-sounding The Road Tae Drumleman (done to Tony Cuffe's fine tune) and (perhaps unexpectedly) Archie Fisher's Shipyard Apprentice, while Pad The Road Wi' Me, a fetching duet with Steve, opens the disc most stylishly. In his turn, Steve is allotted three further songs, which include the Child Ballad Sweet Willie And Fair Annie (freely using a tune by Tim Eriksen) and the elegiac anti-war song When Margaret Was Eleven (from the pen of Pete St. John), But it's Mark's two lead vocal contributions that stand out in proudest profile; his towering, ululating (almost Robin Williamson-esque) rendition of Liam Weldon's powerful Dark Horse On The Wind constitutes the disc's highlight for me, and his jovial version of The Ploughboy And The Maid (capped by one of Mike's tunes) gives a good contrast.
The principal focus of the band, and the disc, is rightly on the song repertoire, but they've also included a few keenly-managed and inventive instrumental sets: the pick of these has to be the combination of slow jig and pipe lullaby (Ruaraidh Mor's) deliciously played by fiddle and cello in consort, though the fun portrayal of The Drunken Duck comes close, and in truth all three instrumental tracks are so much better than merely efficient devices for breaking up the songs in the running order. Malinky have survived a large number of major lineup changes over their ten-year history, yet each successive album release brings and preserves a thoroughly credible (and robust) sense of band identity. In whatever context, though, Flower And Iron is both a well-contrasted and strongly unified achievement.
David Kidman June 2009
This striking Scottish outfit made quite a splash with their début album Last Leaves three years ago, and the follow-up has been swift to arrive. But I've just noticed that it didn't get coverage on NetRhythms when it came out at the end of last summer, so I must rectify that tout-de-suite! And yes, having lived with the album for many months now, I can confirm that it really is even better than Last Leaves! Malinky's lineup has now expanded to a five-piece, with the recent addition of box/whistle player Leo McCann (yes, if anyone cann…!) who brings an extra dimension to the already attractive, subtle and abundantly inventive group dynamics. The focus remains on ultra-vibrant acoustic music, whether traditionally-based or newly-composed (by one or other of the band members, all of whom contribute to Three Ravens), and on the exciting, fresh singing of Karine Polwart and Steve Byrne. And once again, there's lots of contrast within the material, from sprightly tunes that playfully juggle with your expectations (Leaving Rum) through to a swift version of John Conolly's Trawlin' Trade, the bleak mantra of the title track and some superior modern ballads (the brief but chilling Sound Of A Tear Not Cried, with a curious but effective arrangement that's built around eerie whispers and vocal drones, and the equally intriguing Thaney, the tale of an early rape victim, set to a time-signature that's more at home in Eastern Europe than lowland Scotland, providing but two of the highlights). And Karine's finale Follow The Heron looks destined to be in demand as an anthemic end-of-session closer, maybe even a-capella. As is often the case with releases of uniform excellence, superlatives become redundant or repetitive and to quit while I'm ahead is best. As I've already hinted, the performances, arrangements and musicianship on Three Ravens are all exemplary, and so compelling that I can't help but wonder how Malinky can better this for their third album!
David Kidman
The cheeky moniker conceals a right gang of reprobates, but they've no need to hide themselves away waiting for a bus in the middle of nowhere, for on the evidence of this CD (and some awesome live appearances, including its launch gig) they're really going places. The Malkies formed around a year ago, with feisty-but-sensitive Glasgow-born singer-songwriter Alistair Hulett teaming up with those three currently-Yorkshire-based musos of high repute Phil Snell (mando/fiddle wiz, ex-Bayou Gumbo and St. Louis Zipper), Hugh Bradley (double bass, ex-Whisky Priests) and Hugh Whitaker (drums, also ex-Bayou Gumbo). Together they produce what they describe as "hybrid music for uncertain times", wherein folk music from the traditions of Scotland, England, Ireland and the Americas is melded inextricably with country, celtabilly and rogue folk, serving up something quite unique and tremendously exhilarating. Happily, their repertoire encompasses several of Alistair's own songs, which invariably embrace a strong political conscience; here, Out In The Danger Zone, Playing For The Traffic, The Day That The Boys Came Down come into this category, as do suitably sparky covers of Pete Seeger's Quite Early Morning (a mighty gem, this) and Guthrie's Pastures Of Plenty – and indeed, the CD's own "calling-on song", the catchy Buy Us A Drink. Not to mention the disc's finale: what else but The Internationale?!... The Malkies also turn in elegant and well-considered versions of traditional ballads (The Wife Of Usher's Well and High Germany), and the parlour-song pastiche The Road To Dundee (found in the repertoire of many a tradition-based song-carrier), while I loved their "Pictish-Blues" take on the bothy ballad The Overgate. It's an invigorating mix alright, the mood and delivery may be (roughly) good-time, but it's done with buckets of taste and real style. There's loads of delectable inner detail in the arrangements, and the musicians are having a ball too; there's an easygoing, if slightly-rough-and-tumble backroom feel to the music-making that flatters to deceive by belying the expertise of the participants, but it's so darned appealing! Phil's dexterity on his newly-acquired ironing-board (sorry - pedal steel!) is worthy of special mention, as is his consummate skill in matters of recording, production, layout and design (clever b*****!). Another dimension of vocal heaven is brought to the mix with the harmonies on several tracks contributed oh-so-naturally by the stunning Rachel Goodwin (ex-Waking The Witch). All of which adds up to a welcomingly assured and disarmingly stylish band debut that really is a constant delight.
David Kidman August 2008
Bill Mallonee - Dear Life (Fundamental)
Georgia's Bill Mallonee appears to have more than his home state on his mind with the release of Dear Life. Never one to make his listeners feel completely at ease, he has produced an album that delights, perplexes and disturbs in equal measure.
It may be that all roads and experiences have led him to this point. If Summershine was his 'happy' album then Dear Life is his most personal to date.
It's impossible to listen to a single track without relating it back to the man himself. The trademark Mallonee references - the depression of the 30s, Woody Guthrie - are all there but on Dear Life it's how they impact on him, rather than the world at large. Few albums will finish with such a feeling of finality as this. I Will Miss You is uncomfortably private while Songwriter (Numb) is the song of a man who has taken stock and is not entirely happy with his life's work. It is one of the most poignant and saddest songs written.
There's a different kind of energy driving Dear Life, instead of the raging, passionate guitar rock of Blister Soul or Extreme North of the Compasss, Ready and Red Eye is just one track that is fuelled from within. Mallonee appears to have reached a point where he realizes that what he feels compelled to say is as important, if not more so, than how he says it. Undoubtedly this is a brilliant Bill Mallonee album, the devastating use of lyrics and melody is a gift that will surely never leave him but Carol Merrill shows the reflection of a man at the crossroads.
His greatest gift is the ability to turn the harsh light of his talent on to the listener, by the end of the album it's not just his life that's in the unforgiving glare.
In whatever form and in whatever context, listening to Bill Mallonee is never less than compelling and always absorbing. Here, with long time colleague Jacob Bradley, the messages are just as strong, just as uncompromising. The unsettling thing for fans is what it is he's saying. It is impossible to read too much into Bill Mallonee, he reveals just enough to intrigue but not enough to fully explain.
Michael Mee
Bill Mallonee & The Vigilantes of Love - Locket Full of Moonlight (Fundamental)
Whatever the tangled details may be, fact is it's another fine piece of work, albeit rather fuller and more arranged than his sparer rootsy projects, that mines a dark shade of heartache and despair framed (if you discount the extra tracks which rather make nonsense of the thematic circle) by the hopelessness and loss of the rocked up title track and its more reflective reprise. It's not all down, Jaws of Life is a ringing guitar look back at his life and times with the band but then even Rearview Mirror sees the cost of life on the road while Dirty Job brings things back to the downbeat where even ten years of making music could be a curse. It's great stuff, but you kinda hope that somewhere along the path of the new album he finds a place to let the sun in.
Mike Davies
There are some singers that, when they go solo, manage to leave the band behind completely. Lionel Ritchie springs to mind, he was rarely describe as an ex- Commodore. However, Raul Malo was the voice of the Mavericks and, as such, his instantly recognisable voice will likely forever be linked with the band. Then again there are worse weights to have on your shoulder. In truth he doesn't appear to let it worry him because there are a couple of songs on The Lucky One that are pure Mavericks, the single Hello Again and Lonely Hearts are energetic, warm and exotic pop, guaranteed to make you smile and get your feet going.
What is new, at least to me, is just how smooth a musical operator Mr Malo is. If Moonlight Kiss and You Always Win weren't recorded with him wearing a dinner jacket - bow tie undone of course - and a glass in hand he missed a trick. Both make Dean Martin sound hyperactive.
Ralo Malo also makes the most of the freedom afforded by a solo project, but he uses his 'liberty' well, going back to a classic era when the song was king. The Lucky One is a singer's album, any production rightly thrusts the voice way out in front and when you're blessed with an instrument of seemingly infinite shades, what else would you do with it? He 'works' the likes of Ready For My Lovin', extracting every ounce the song has to offer, then going back for more.
It is also quite obviously an album of Raul Malo's own choosing. He forgoes the commercially attractive path of least resistance which would surely have denied us the gentle beauty of Crying For You.
Even the most diehard of Mavericks/Malo fans can't fail to be stunned and delighted by One More Angel and Rosalie, the first is tender and touching, the second almost operatic. Both treat the sad stories behind them with affection and respect, they are Raul Malo's finest moments and two of the best examples of what a real singer can do you'll hear in many a year. Malo's aim with The Lucky One was to 'inject a little class', boy did he succeed. A class act from a class act.
Michael Mee March 2009
This is "Chinagrass": "simple, honest, direct music with one foot in the past and another in the future; it is to China what alt.country is to America." But the grasses of Mamer should not be confused with the grasses of Kentucky. Chinagrass has warmth and a big-country feel - a delightfully unrushed ease. No matter that the songs are in another language, the harmonies that the voices provide are a rhythmic chanted thread which needs no translation. "Eagle" was recorded in Beijing and Urumqi, and is released on Real World Records. Mamer plays the Union Chapel on May 16th (tickets via the Barbican link below) and the Electroacoustic Club on the 18th. (Sue Cavendish, May 2009)
"Never far from Mamer was his dombra, the traditional lute of nomadic Central Asia, found all over Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, and also played by Kazakhs living in China. It is played by either strumming the two strings together or plucking each string individually. In the folklore of the grasslands, the slender dombra was nature's gift to man and is the ultimate symbol of nomadic life. Feathers from eagle owls are hung from the instrument's long neck, considered important good luck charms to Muslims of the grasslands who believe the intricate patterning on the feathers resembles the letters from the Koran. As well as being an excellent dombra player, Mamer is also a guitar virtuoso. "I play a lot on acoustic guitars but I use open tunings," says Mamer. "This way I can make a bigger and more resonant sound, but still sound like a dombra." Mamer also plays the sherter (a three-stringed plucked instrument), the Jew's harp and the dabel (hand drum) on the album."
www.myspace.com/mamermusic1
www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-7hl4Q6IH4
Sue Cavendish May 2009
David Kidman
The Manawatu Scottish Society Pipe Band - The Calling (Greentrax)
This Pipe Band has a long and illustrious history – it was formed back in 1925 in Palmerston North (New Zealand), and made it to the finals of the Grade 1 World Pipe Band Championships (Scotland) in 2003. The band's style is indicative of the traditional pipe band sound, while their approach to repertoire is enterprising and inventive without having to resort to bastardised pop tunes – in other words, compositions by modern-day pipe masters such as Gordon Duncan, Murray Blair, Robert Wallace and Michael Grey sit easily alongside a handful of traditional tunes and the circle is drawn together again with compositions by the band's leader Stewart MacKenzie, whose brother Fraser is responsible for the arrangements and drum scores. The music and performances on this CD characterise the familiar pipe band sound, while some less usual rhythms and nuances expand the more traditional repertoire without exiting the genre. They even draft in a bouzouki player (Duncan Davidson) for additional rhythm work on three tracks, and a whistle player (Paul Turner) for the final track, a pibroch (which, annoyingly, is faded out after a mere three minutes). But the actual ensemble playing is just fine; all is managed in a precise, well-drilled manner – perhaps too much so, for at times there's a sense of going through the motions rather than responding more deeply to the music they're playing. And the recording seems to emphasise that rather dry, sometimes even clinical aspect of the band's performances. But you can't fault the band for variety of pace or breadth of repertoire, certainly not within the CD's wee 39 minutes (yes, some of the tracks are exasperatingly brief – even Stewart's lightning solo trip through no less than six reels on track 6 weighs in at only just over four minutes!).
www.greentrax.com
www.manawatuscottish.co.nz
David Kidman
The same holds true for her latest, sixth full length studio release, the first to be recorded with her new band that features impressive guitarist Jeremy Drake. Last time round I noted reference points that included Billie Holiday, Aimee Mann and Diana Krall, and they still hold true with a strong sultry, hypnotic jazz blues vibe buzzing across God Is Love with its staccato guitar frills, a brooding jazz-folk inflected Two Faces and the title track's Tom Waits inclined jittery tango sway.
At the same time, her retro affections also embrace the soft shoe shuffling and oompahing brass of the 30s jazzy pop Right Side while the 60s come on strong with Bigger Burn's British Beat invasion, the nursery rhyme pop buoyancy (and Celtic skirl guitar) of Little Foot and the lovely Don't Let it Happen's nods to both oohing girl group pop and the tumbling cascades of Tommy James' Crimson and Clover. A little more recent influence can be heard on the rocking out punky Cracked that looks straight down a Chrissie Hynde barrel.
Working her way through various entanglements of the heart and sexual tensions, it's variously upbeat and melancholic, but whatever her mood Mandell never strikes a false emotional beat or musical note.
Kisses provide a recurring motif, and whether she's slowdancing you into the bedroom with early hours of In The Doorway, seducing you in misty meadows to the spooked atmospherics of I Love Planet Earth or wistfully pouring out coming of age or childhood memories on Personal and It Wasn't The Time (It Was The Color), you'll find it impossible not to pucker up and embrace those lips.
Mike Davies June 2009
Despite five albums, singer-songwriter Mandell's still probably remains best known around her L.A. base. However, with this, her sixth, there's a good chance of catching ears further afield. I suppose of you need reference points, then names like Norah Jones, Billie Holiday, Dor Previn, Aimee Mann and Diana Krall might be tossed around her sultry jazz style, with the lovely 40s flavoured Moonglow, Lamp Low even calling to mind Grace Kelly's duet with Crosby on True Love. With musicians that include Wilco guitarist Nels Cline and X percussionist DJ (the band were added after she'd laid down vocals and guitar), it's a torchy romantic affair, gliding across brushed percussion floors with Girls, prowling around smoky alleys with My Twin (a spooky meditation on a fatal train crash), playing sly and coy on the sexual politics waltzer Make-Out King and rippling on the dappled hand drums and strings cascading shuffle that is Salt Truck.
Deceptively easy on the ear, her retro styled songs might seem instantly attractive but lacking staying power insubstantial. However the more you play this superbly arranged and subtle flavoured album so the more do numbers like the moody Beautiful, sounding very My Funny Valentine with its warm jazz guitar, slow honky tonk Patsy Cline sax and piano waltz Miss Me and the Hawaiian camp fire title track seep into your pores and refuse to budge.
www.elenimandell.com
www.myspace.com/elenimandell
Mike Davies April 2007
This is the debut album from the much feted Glasgow based songwriter and with labels such as Island and Fiction courting her it is eagerly awaited. Showing an independent streak and spurning the majors may have been a mistake but on listening to what she has produced I think that she has made the right decision. She opens with My Lung, a simple vehicle for her childlike voice - simply beautiful. Tea Lights introduces guitar for the first time but it is her cool, clear voice that is the real star. She has a quality to her signing that I have not heard for some time. Alan Peacock duets vocally on the standout track, Gomer, on which we have two singers giving it their all on an epic song. This is acoustic brilliance. We have here the next Scottish star and her beautiful and simple music on tracks such as How I'd Be will have you hooked. You wouldn't expect to find a waltz on a modern album but Jo manages to squeeze one in with Waltz With Me and this, played on guitar and flute, is quite hypnotic.
Being from Scotland you should expect some Celtic tinged