Richard Thompson - Dream Attic (Proper)
Robert Plant - Band of Joy (Decca)
Carrie Rodriguez - Love And Circumstance (Ninth Street Opus)
Matthews' Southern Comfort - Kind Of New (Brilliant!)
Pete Seeger with the Rivertown Kids and Friends - Tomorrow's Children (Appleseed)
Angel Band - Bless My Sole (Appleseed)
Tim Eriksen - Soul Of The January Hills (Appleseed)
Sid Selvidge - I Should Be Blue (Archer Records)
Various Artists - Transatlantic Sessions 4, Volume 2 (Whirlie)
Starless & Bible Black - Shape Of The Shape (Static Caravan
Catherine Howe & Vo Fletcher - English Tale (Voca)
Iain Thomson - Fields of Dreams (own label)
Loudon Wainwright III - 10 Songs For The New Depression (Proper)
The Hurd - Five Steps (Hurdacious Records)
Doctor Socrates - Time Travelling (DocSoc Music/World Turned Upside Down)
Caitlin Rose - Own Side Now (Names)
Truth & Salvage Co (Silver Arrow)
David Rotheray - The Life Of Birds (Proper)
Delta Maid - Broken Branches (Shake A Bush)
Rob Thompson - Dust (Angel Air)
Colosseum - Live 05 (Ruf Records)
Dale Watson - Carryin' On (Me&My Records)
Dalla - Cribbar (Dalla Records)
The Storys - Luck (Angel Air)
The Steals - Static Kingdom (Faun)
Holmes Brothers - Feed My Soul (Alligator)
The Urban Folk Quartet - The Urban Folk Quartet (Fellside)
Alan Kelly - After The Morning (Black Box Music)
Nancy Kerr & James Fagan - Twice Elected Sun (Navigator)
Kath Reade - Passionate Nature (Splid)
Rebecca Barclay - Cinnabar (Raven's Wing Records)
Soft Machine - Bundles (Esoteric)
U.N.I.T.E. (Urban Native Integrated Traditions Of Europe) - A Gathering of Strangers (Mule Satellite Records)
David Bromberg - David Bromberg / Demon In Disguise / Wanted Dead Or Alive / Midnight On The Water (BGO Records)
New Lost City Ramblers - Where Do You Come From? Where Do You Go? 50 Years (Smithsonian Folkways)
Michael Landau, Robben Ford, Jimmy Haslip, Gary Novak - Renegade Creation (Provogue)
Elvin Bishop - Red Dog Speaks (Delta Groove Music)
Richard’s latest offering is an intriguing proposition from the outset: a brave artistic statement which takes quite a number of risks and yet manages to deliver right down the line in that boundary-defining way the true greats of the music world inevitably make their own - for his latest record comes in an innovative format that as far as I know hasn’t been tried before.
The basic package is a live album, on which Richard and band deliver a set of 13 brand new songs (yes, new: now there’s something very unusual for a start, as live albums tend to be mostly reworkings of hits or older material). But here’s the best news: there’s also a deluxe edition which supplements that live album with a second disc that presents the same 13 songs in acoustic demo versions (mostly just vocal and guitar). This gambit yields some really interesting and fruitful comparisons, with some songs unexpectedly making more of an impression in one format or the other, but the most striking thing of all is that in whichever guise the songs are presented, there’s no let-up in quality - indeed, I’m already convinced that a sizeable proportion of the new material is destined for classic status even considering Richard’s already extensive pantheon of killer songs.
To say that Richard and his band (Pete Zorn, Joel Zifkin, Michael Jerome and Taras Prodaniuk) are on heat here is an understatement, for the live set is characterised by a ferocious energy that blazes bright and spreads right across the canvas, from Richard’s own explosive vocal delivery - inextricably wedded to a clutch of violent yet hyper-sensitive live-for-the-moment guitar solos - to the brilliantly empathic band support that fires off its salvos of musicianship, respect and trust in both directions. RT’s the man who habitually delivers the goods with serious solos to match, but I’m still left gasping at the majestic, blistering displays of inventive axework on If Love Whispers Your Name, Sidney Wells, Haul Me Up, Crimescene and The Money Shuffle (to namecheck but five); even after several playthroughs, familiarity doesn’t breed any hint of staleness or predictability. Against which, the more lyrical of Richard’s guitar-solo excursions (such as the coda of Stumble On) are almost as cathartic in their own way.
And we mustn’t underestimate the ancillary yet brilliant primary colours and shadings of Pete’s various saxes and flute consorting in merry and creative juxtaposition with Joel’s fiery and often distinctly frantic fiddle, over a constantly forward-driven rhythm section that’s also the solidest of foundations.
Lyric-wise, Richard’s lost none of his talent for directly and tellingly engaging, identifying with and conveying a variety of emotional states. There’s his trademark heavy sarcasm and feverishly angry bile in railing against the attitudes and inefficiencies of certain professions (bankers in The Money Shuffle, for instance) and the conceit, hypocrisy and shallowness of individuals (in Here Comes Geordie, where RT’s sprightly, jaunty folky setting gives further credence to the application of the epithet "sweet warrior"). There’s also two strong vignettes: Sidney Wells, set to a tumbling jig rhythm that sounds like it’s crossing the Rocky Road To Dublin with Manic Depression by the time it gets to the blind rush of the cascading guitar solo, while Demons In Her Dancing Shoes, by contrast, is comparatively upbeat in its affectionate depiction of the "working girls of Chapel Street”. And there’s the "doom and gloom" of deep self-examination and despair (Stumble On and Crimescene), with the decidedly forlorn Burning Man then set against the heartfelt (and just as deeply reflective) explorations of loss on A Brother Slips Away and the traditional-sounding Among The Gorse, Among The Grey, and the more playful, even tongue-in-cheek honking, stonking rock’n’roll of Bad Again (musically, harking back both to the Crowded Room and Time To Ring Some Changes). After which, the queasy emotional climate of If Love Whispers Your Name is a masterly, if risky choice for set closer.
It’s interesting that the dynamic of the set of songs taken as a sequence is quite different on the bonus disc, which proves a fascinating exercise in comparison that goes beyond mere consideration of acoustic vs electric clothes, reaching right into the character of the songs themselves. It’s emphatically not an album of first thoughts and tryouts, but a fully formed set of interpretations that stands on its own terms and in some cases illuminates the murky and more enigmatic recesses of the lyrics in a way that the white-hot incandescence of live performance (inevitably) slightly obscures. On the swings and roundabouts principle, there are gains and losses in intensity and impact between the two versions, but there are no total-loss situations, and in all cases each version is totally convincing on its own terms and thus has much to commend it.
Stumble On and Burning Man are strong and impassioned contributions to the canon in both guises, whereas Among The Gorse… is even greater misty folk magic in its acoustic garb, with keen use of drone instruments. A Brother Slips Away is simply the kind of song that would stop you dead in your tracks in any context; whereas Crimescene probably undergoes the most startling transformation, from the chillingly resigned inward contemplativeness of the demo to the more consciously developed full-blown dramatic scena of the live version - but either way it’s another of the standout tracks. The strict-tempo reel that polishes off Demons is especially delicious on the demo, as is the dancing mandolin playing on Sidney Wells (though the latter loses some of its epic narrative quality in gaining economy of scale in the acoustic version); Bad Again is even more cheeky in its acoustic garb, while there’s an almost alien delicacy to If Love Whispers Your Name on the demo disc. Big Sun Falling In The River is the only song that doesn’t quite convince me overall, although it’s hard to find fault with either its construction, sentiment or expression (or is it that chord change, I wonder?).
So here’s an artist still writing and performing at the very top of his game and after how many? 20-odd? albums still giving us something fresh yet oh so recognisably Thompson yet this time taking a different slant to presentation, a gamble that has paid off in spades - and aces.
David Kidman August 2010
With Patty Griffin stepping into Alison Krauss’ shoes, the rest of the band line up as Marco Giovino on percussion, Byron House on bass, Darrell Scott providing guitar, pedal steel, accordion, banjo and mandolin and, recruited from the Raising Sand touring band, Buddy Miller on guitar.
That this is going to be a slightly different animal is obvious from the opening track, a rumbling guitar blues cover of Los Lobos number Angel Dance featuring mandolin and with a jerky Native American tribal feel to the rhythm, one that manifests itself again on the choppy percussion of Even This Shall Pass Away, a Zep-meets Stones blues setting of the poem by 19th Century New York newspaper editor, poet and abolitionist, Theodore Tilton.
The blues are to the fore again on the jangling acoustic dobro-driven Central Two-O-Nine, a Plant/Miller composition that comes on like a hybrid of Oh Brother and Led Zep III, and veering to the gospel for the traditional spiritual Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down with its spooked mandolin and Plant’s bluesy wail.
On the country side of things, twangy guitar intros a cover of Richard Thompson’s House of Cards, Griffin providing harmony while ringing mandolin rolls the tune along, The Only Sound That Matters is a gentler brushed drums and pedal steel stroll and Harm’s Swift Way a jangling cover of Townes Van Zandt by way of Steve Earle twangy reverb guitar.
There’s a country vein too on the hushed, breathy psychedelic slowcore of the six minute Silver Rider, the first of two numbers by drone rockers Low; Griffin’s harmonies, the surges of minimal dark reverb guitar chords and desert night atmospherics inspiring Plant to slip into his most liquid, warmly seductive vocals.
He remains in the groove for the second Low tune, Monkey, except he cranks up the whispered sexual tension to such a molten level you can almost hear him licking his lips as the words snake out while rumbling guitar and drums provide a sonic incense to perfume Plant and Griffin’s repeated ‘tonight you will be mine’ mantra.
Elswhere, there’s a nod to The Beatles with the 60s r&b pop of You Can’t Buy My Love (the album’s answer to Gone Gone Gone) with its surf drums and homage to Harrison’s guitar work while I’m Falling In Love Again is a waltzing cover of the Kelly Brothers doo wop 60s soul nugget, here enfolded with swooning pedal steel.
Which just leaves the Appalachian banjo flecked Cindy I’ll Marry You Someday, a retitling of the North Carolina folk tune known as either Cindy or Get Along Home Cindy that employs both traditional verses and, as far as I can tell, a couple of new ones.
There’s nothing to rival Please Read The Letter this time but, while unlikely to repeat the phenomenal success of Raising Sand, there’s no dip in the quality level and the album provides such a listening kick the band couldn’t have asked for a more appropriate name.
www.robertplant.com
www.myspace.com/robertplantninelives
Mike Davies August 2010
And then there’s those in which the singer pays respect to the material but imbues it with their own spirit so that, unless you knew otherwise, you’d believe they’d written it. Such is the case with Rodriguez’s third solo album, a collection of love songs by artists she counts as inspiration and influences, produced by Lee Townsend, recorded with her regular band and featuring guest contributions by Bill Frisell, Buddy Miller, Greg Leisz, and Aoife O'Donovan. After two previous albums, it also underlines her increasing confidence and strength as a vocalist, finding both tenderness and muscle in equal measure.
She makes interesting choices too. There’s been many a John Hiatt cover, but few have gone to the well of his Little Village one-off with Ry Cooder and Nick Lowe. She puts that to right with opening track, a slow treading, big building version of Big Love. It’s a potent benchmark, but one she has no problem following. Miller steps up to provide harmony vocals on his and his wife’s own Wide River To Cross, one of four tracks that find Rodriguez on electric mandolin.
Having first come to notice, scraping the bow with Chip Taylor, she’s not forsaken the fiddle. It figures on two numbers here, a homespun bluegrass take on M. Ward’s Eyes On The Prize and a wonderfully melancholic twangy reading of Richard Thompson’s Waltzing’s For Dreamers.
As you might expect from her musical roots, there’s a veritable country hall of fame among her chosen writers. Miller again lends harmonies while Leisz provides pedal steel for a waltz round the honky tonk with Merle’s I Started Loving You Again, Bill Frisell provides simple bluesy guitar backing to Carrie’s mandolin on the starry prairie night reading of Hank’s I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry while Crooked Still’s O’Donovan provides the harmony on Townes’ Rex’s Blues.
Frisell guests too on a brace of songs from more contemporary names, providing a solid spine on a sterling shimmering cover of Lucinda’s Steal Your Love and delivering a gutsy solo for Rawlings and Welch’s I Made A Lover’s Prayer.
But it’s not just choice cuts from known names. The hushed, breathy I’m Not For Love with its tremolo guitar ripples comes from the pen of little known Australian singer-songwriter Sandrine Daniels. Given she’s yet to record it herself, it shows Rodriguez clearly has her ear to the ground.
The remaining two cuts are also unlikely to ring many bells. Sung in Spanish, in recognition of her heritage, the closing La Punalada Trapera was written by the late celebrated Mexican ranchera music composer Sosa Tomas Mendez and, in her live set for a few years now, was probably learned from her great aunt, 50s singer Eva Garza. There’s also a family connection to When I Heard Gypsy Dave Sing. Featuring pedal steel, brushed drums and a gorgeous meld of Rodriguez and O’Donovan’s voices, it’s penned by Carrie’s father David and, as such, features the album’s most emotionally invested performance. Like the whole album, musically and thematically, it’s a labour of love.
www.myspace.com/carrielrodriguezMike Davies August 2010
The most significant, however, is the first release under his post-Fairport band’s name in 40 years. It will, of course, come as no surprise to learn that the belated fourth album contains none of the original members save for Matthews himself. Instead the line up features Mike Roelofs on keyboards, former Drongos guitarist Richard Kennedy, bassist and mandolin player Bart-Jan Baartmans and Orlando country-folk singer-songwriter Terri Binion sharing vocals and acoustic guitar. Sessioneer Joost Kroon provides the drums but doesn’t seem to be a full band member.
Given Matthews’ recent excursions into blues-jazz, it’s little surprise to find things spilling over into the folk fabric here, notably so on the Binion showcasing These Days, and the keyboard arrangements of the Celtic soul flavoured O’Donnell Street and a gospel tinted Kingfish. It’s actually on Binion’s superb Seven Hours and Perfect Love that the country flavours of the early MSC albums resurface, though, as Dear Richard and Locomotive show, she’s equally adept at getting the bluesy soul groove going too.
There are revisitations of three old past Comfort tunes too. From Second Spring comes the trad shanty Blood Red Roses (here credited to Richard Farina and the only real folk track on the album) while Late That Same Year is represented by a world weary Southern country blues walk back down the Road To Ronderlin, and, perhaps inevitably, a new version of their chart topping version of Woodstock.
It’s not the first time Matthews has reworked the song. To mark its 40th anniversary, he released it last year as a single with Nick Vernier, but here, arranged with minimal piano, drums and guitar and instrumentation and delivered in a speak-sing vocal with gospel chant back ups, it sounds as it might have done had Joni Mitchell written in during her Hissing Of Summer Lawns phase.
I’m not too struck on the opening Letting The Mad Dogs Lie, a funky blues eco protest song that rather overcooks its animal fable approach, nor the choppy, slightly reggae tinged closer, Money where Matthews’ spills out his bitterness at the music business’ concern with cash rather than creativity.
Some might cynically suggest that reviving the old band name could be an attempt to mine the nostalgia market. Sure it’ll bring a twinge to old fans, but one listen to the passion and heart in the album is enough to prove such accusations have no place levelled here.
Mike Davies August 2010
This CD presents a unique snapshot in time, when the convergence of an iconic folksinger, a Clearwater educator, an innovative public school teacher and a group of enthusiastic fourth-graders led to unexpected results. Pete’s own dictum, of course, has always been that “the future of the entire human race lies in the hands of children", so I guess this particular outcome – a whole CD chronicling the collaboration – is not completely unexpected.
In the face of complaints from some parents and school personnel (considering Pete’s activist background and reputation), Pete tirelessly and patiently schooled and prepared the kids for performance, of a whole load of archetypal songs of activism, optimism and the power of music, songs sourced from a variety of writers (including some of his own of course), songs which instil in the kids a pride in their environment and a concern for its future. To assist him in this worthy endeavour he brought in a number of adult friends including Dar Williams and David Bernz (on the brand new co-write Solartopia), Sarah Underhill (on Bill Staines’ timeless River), Rick Nestler (on his own “history lesson” The River That Flows Both Ways), and Dan Einbender (on his own recycling anthem It Really Isn’t Garbage).
The breadth of Pete’s musical references allows space for guest appearances too, including Sloop Clearwater captain Travis Jeffrey (who leads the call-and-response piece It’s A Long Haul with Pete and the kids) and David Amram & Victorio Roland Mousaa (who perform a Native American round dance). The kids do a splendid job in mastering some quite complex choruses and verses, and the keen motivation of all parties comes across superbly, while Pete himself is as sprightly as ever (although at 90 you expect a certain frailty of vocal projection at times).
So, as you can see, this is far removed from being an album of tiresome kids’ songs to be sung on auto-pilot at the back of the school bus by tiresome kids when teacher’s not listening – instead it’s an entirely unpatronising and brilliantly conceived exercise in right-on social grooming which gives all the participants a real good time in learning and appreciating some top-quality songs with a real caring message. Just hear the enthusiasm with which the kids sing Take It From Dr. King, Pete’s 2001 entreaty to non-violence, and We Shall Not Be Moved too… And for that matter, their timely revisit of Pete’s timeless Turn Turn Turn (not an easy song to sing) - complete with several new verses and Pete’s explanation of how the song came about!…
Pete the supreme communicator certainly achieves his mission here – to show that everyone is capable of making music for entertainment and for social change; thus Tomorrow’s Childrenis an affecting, affectionate and charming release, and a typically Pete Seeger venture, and although to be fair it will probably fall into the category of “not one for frequent replay”, it will still doubtless be counted an essential part of the Pete Seeger jigsaw.
David Kidman August 2010
Tim’s always made a point of defying accepted practice and any demands for trendy reinterpretative rearrangement (even in his punk moments), and here he determinedly goes back to his roots by reverting to the primal essence of folk performance - the unadulterated sound of the human voice. And on Soul Of The January Hills he proves himself a more than able advocate for its constant-through-the-ages effectiveness since, Tim claims, it currently represents both a radical idea and a lost art overdue for a comeback. And also a friendly challenge to get people into hardcore singing - although, as we all know, that gauntlet may well be thrown down onto stony ground.
But it’s all not quite as uncompromising as it may sound; sure it’s unremitting, but also stimulating and yes, tremendously fulfilling in its own special way. The sense of timeless tradition and the rush Tim gets from the immediacy of live performance is all translated to the powerfully declamatory style and unflashy passion of what you hear, whether it be an old ballad or an ancient hymn. And as for that unwritten rule that says you mustn’t ever release a whole album of an undiluted unaccompanied single voice; you’ve got to be a really good singer to carry it off, but Tim sure is. His singing is deeply informed by his in-depth knowledge of the repertoires and of singing techniques, and his sense of flow of argument and control of line and narrative import ensure a concentrated experience that’s never easy listening, agreed, but instead fully rewarding and exhilarating; very much in the common “high lonesome” tradition of totally committed delivery that unites the Appalachians, shape-note singing and the Balkans. Within which the occasional hint of what might seem affectation - like the playful leap, a strange yodel-like catch, that cements the refrain on alternate lines of A Soldier Traveling From The North – easily escapes any charge of contrived mannerism.
This record gives us Tim’s raw, authentic and compelling delivery of a sequence of songs with no concession to running-order or whatever, sounding almost as if they were the first 14 songs that came to mind as he let the tape roll! They include ballads that may have crossed the pond but are recognisably very close to, or at any rate not-so-distant cousins of, the British versions we know well - like John Randolph (Lord Randall), The Gallows Tree (Prickly Bush), and A Soldier Traveling From The North (Light Dragoon). Interspersed amongst these are pieces from the Sacred Harp (Hope, and a stunning wake-the-dead closing sequence comprising Wrestling Jacob and Better Days Coming), while even Amazing Grace puts in an appearance (and rarely better sung too). Other successes include Drowsy Sleeper, I Wish The Wars Were All Over and Lass Of Glenshee - on all of which Tim manages to put his own stamp and integrity. Superb.
David Kidman August 2010
Angel Band’s 2008 album (With Roots And Wings) was one of my favourites of that year, although it contained a small proportion of less than distinguished material. Its followup, Bless My Sole, is, however, a very much more consistent set.
Since 2008 there’s been a fairly major lineup change too, with Aly Paige replacing Jen Schonwald in the core vocal trio. I’ve not been able to find out much about Aly, but on this showing she’s a superbly versatile singer with a strong vocal character and very capable range, and she fits in totally with Kathleen (Weber) and Nancy (Josephson). For the nub of the Angel Band sound is still those glorious vocal harmonies, with fluent and easy trading of lead and harmony roles by all three ladies. Even so, the power and strength of their crack backing band (Marc Moss, Bob Taylor and Christine Lenee) is not to be underestimated - and little wonder when on this record its ranks also embrace the brilliance of David Bromberg (Nancy’s husband), fiddler Nate Grower, accordionist Bukka Allen and guitarist/pedal steel supremo Lloyd Maines (who’s also produced the album, with typical insight and clarity of expression).
Like its predecessor, Bless My Sole consists almost exclusively of original compositions, but this time round all the lyrics are by Nancy herself (with music by Marc in all but two cases), the songs running a healthy gamut from soulful Americana to rootsy-folk-country-rock through gospel, cajun and mex to indie-country, each example making best capital out of a canny pick of lead singer out of the three (tho’ Aly gets the lion’s share by a small margin). What all the songs have in common is a solid acoustic base, well balanced to an excellent rhythm backing that’s not over-driven or over-prominent, and a keen sense of structure that unerringly supports the song’s message.
The anthemic opener Hope Is On The Way is a good start - were it not for its rather upbeat sentiment this one could pass for a Richard Thompson opus, its melody line being curiously reminiscent of When I Get To The Border! The delicious Feat-style lope of Same Boat ushers in the first of several songs that reflect Nancy’s empathy for flood- and hurricane-devastated victims (New Orleans and Haiti), the theme continuing on the breezy (companionably McGarrigle-esque) mando, accordion, triangle acoustica of Didn’t See It Coming (When The Levee Broke). There’s a more heavy-duty setting for the examination of pretension King Of Nothing and the languid lope of Long Gone Got Away Lucky, where the as-live tightness of the ensemble is miraculous. (I Feel) Lucky is one of those chirpy, cheeky Dixie-Chick-style ripostes that might be destined for the country charts, while the contrasting moody tex-mex ballad Boots Of Guadelupé (with music by Laurie Lewis) is more than the sexy shoe-fetish it at first seems. There’s also more than meets the ear in the ugly and quite sinister industrial-percussion clank of Black Tar Sway (you can really feel you’re treading that broken glass under your feet!).
Almost certainly the disc’s standout cut, though, is the drop-dead-gorgeous Fly Away Home, with its lovely acappella intro, keening lyric and gently pervasive fiddle drone set into relief by some absolutely spine-tingling harmonies. Sheer genius of production, execution and restraint. The album’s closing triple-whammy is a power-gospel sequence culminating in the stirring Bless My Soul (with not a footwear reference in earshot!), whose final build to a majestic, lusher arrangement almost cries out for a Hey-Jude-style coda. There’s a real knock-you-dead impact when full power is invoked and all three voices conjoin in outright, forthright chorus (as on the last section of Go Ahead And Go). And indeed on the album’s lone cover, a full-throated, marvellously gutsy rendition of the underrated Beatles B-side Don’t Let Me Down.
So much more artistically consistent than its predecessor (which itself was no major disappointment), Bless My Sole is a triumphant return to the recording stage for Angel Band.
David Kidman August 2010
I’ve had a real job finding out much about Greenville, Mississippi-born Sid, beyond the fact that he spent his early days in Memphis learning to play the blues from the likes of Furry Lewis, Fred Mc Dowell and the late Jim Dickinson, after which he’s toured the world, etc etc, and claims Dylan as an admirer. We’re also told that I Should Be Blue is his eighth album - so where the hell’s he been all these years that he’s never figured on NetRhythms radar until now?
Sid’s the real deal, a light-textured and supple vocalist with the strongest Memphis influences all brought to bear on his slowburning singing style: soul, folk and pop are all seamlessly woven into a characteristic yet surprisingly unique personal statement. That amazing voice, so effortlessly idiomatic and brilliantly controlled, stops you dead from the opening cover of Tom T. Hall’s That’s How I Got To Memphis (shades of Eric Bibb here maybe), and keeps you hooked right on through personalised treatments of songs by Tim Hardin, Donovan, Townes Van Zandt and Fred Neil along with a small contingent of his own well-crafted compositions tucked into the centre of the record for good measure. His songwriting feels as fresh as his singing, although its lazy, laid-back mode on the likes of Dimestore Angel and Fine Hotel still references classic soul and Americana all down the line. As an interpreter, Sid convinces both on the thoughtful material (the majority of the cuts) and also on the falsetto moves required for the comic quirkiness of You’re Gonna Look Like A Monkey (When You Get Old). It’s hard to escape occasional reminiscences of Phil Ochs in his delivery too (no bad thing tho’), and his high-register shifts are coolly impressive too. What’s more, his voice blends really well with that of Amy Speace, whose own song Two provides a tender disc highlight towards the end of the set; in fact, Amy gets to join Sid on four out of the dozen tracks, and their duet on Donovan’s Catch The Wind is seriously good too.
Sid’s gathered round him a small but effective crew of support musicians that includes his son Steve on various electric guitars, Al Gamble on organ, Don Dixon on bass and Paul "“Snowflake" Taylor on drums; together this crew makes an ideal foil for the persuasive tones of Sid’s voice, moving with him from subtle chordings to languid, almost Latin-jazzy ambience to soulful discretion. It’s all surprisingly easy listening, considering the intense delicacy and hinted-at depths within, and although there’s a slight tail-off towards the end of the album the whole set still manages to score highly on sheer entertainment value.
David Kidman August 2010
Following its inauguration at the start of the year, here’s the second instalment in the projected three-volume edition which will eventually provide the complete audio soundtrack to Series 4 of the Sessions. This disc gives us the remaining item from Programme 2, the entire contents of Programme 3 (reshuffled), before moving on to Programme 4 (all but one item) and (hurrah!) interpolating one of the DVD’s four bonus tracks which hadn’t appeared in the transmitted series (James Graham’s Och Oin Mo Chaileag). The whole disc is well sequenced too, moving persuasively through the time-honoured TS gamut from the contemporary-Americana styling of James Taylor’s Copperline, via the fabulous newgrass of Dan Tyminski’s The Boy Who Wouldn’t Hoe Corn and onto the beauteous Celticry of Emily Smith’s Silver Tassie before finally picking up the instrumental thread at long last with a sprightly, ever-so-slightly-funky canter through Paddy In The Smoke with Messrs McGoldrick and Dezi Donnelly (and that signature Douglas dobro kicking it all off). Martha Wainwright again contributes a composition of her own – this time it’s the towering ululating strangeness of Tower Song, with eerie harmonies from Allison Moorer and Julie Fowlis. Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh’s fine account of Gleánntain Ghlas’ Ghaoith Dobhair has to be counted a highlight, as is Karan Casey’s magical new take on Black Is The Colour, as original an interpretation as you’re likely to encounter. This disc contains some of the finest moments of the entire fourth series, so it’s a shame that the inclusion of Liam Ó Maonlai’s slightly tedious Worry Not lets the side down, but there’s still a good hour’s worth of excellent music here so all we can do is look forward to the completion of the series with volume 3 (hopefully also including the remainder of the bonus tracks), due out in a few months’ time.
www.whirlierecords.co.uk
www.transatlanticsessions.com
David Kidman August 2010
The name lifted from the opening line of Dylan Thomas’ Under Milk Wood (which also inspired a King Crimson album and Stan Tracey track), the Mancunian folk-rock outfit return with their sophomore album, gaining a new label, losing the dulcimer and banjos and turning the focus away from the acoustics and towards electric guitars and synths. Thus hives of Moogs swarm and buzz behind Helene Gaultier's airy Gallic vocals while space cruising Telecasters often follow vapour trails left behind by Hawkwind.
There’s been past comparisons to Pentangle’s folk-jazz fusions and they still apply here, though this time, on the nine minute Les Furies, that’s Pentangle reconceived as an acid jam band. That San Francisco psych-folk ambience swirls around Hanging On The Vine and, if you were thinking there might be a dose of the Velvets in their DNA, then the narcotic rhythms and jangling of Your Majesty Man certainly confirm suspicions.
They’ve not forsaken their more traditional English folk roots, making themselves felt here on the earthy slow lurching Say Donny Say, the pastoral, woodwind and acoustic guitar arranged Country Heir and the Jansch/Renbourn influenced instrumental Popty Ping while the six minute Radio Blues with Gaultier’s ethereal vocals conjures a mood of leafy, dank woodland before the goblins turn up for a burst of synth and guitar discordance.
It’s a pity they opted to close the album with another six minute opus, Year Of Dalmatians, that, save for soaring away on a Floydian guitar solo, mirrors its form almost exactly, but otherwise this is a shape you should really get into.
www.starlessandbibleblack.com
www.myspace.com/starlessandbibleblack
Mike Davies August 2010
In the 70s, after a successful early acting career, singer and songwriter Catherine recorded four albums which have since attained classic status; she then disappeared into reclusive obscurity for an entire quarter of a century before making a comeback with the well-received Princelet Street around three or four years ago. This generated sufficient interest to reissue, in 2007, Catherine’s 1971 debut What A Beautiful Place.
Around this time, Catherine had also started to team up with Vo Fletcher, a guitarist and songwriter whom she already greatly admired. The strong rapport between them is much in evidence on English Tale, their first recording together; it’s a genuinely collaborative collection that presents a series of affectionate songs that have been inspired by people either of them has known and/or loved, and others they wish they’d known. Affectionate can mean highly charming, and also deceptively deeply felt, and yet it can also betoken a slightly twee and insular demeanour – and there are examples of both ends of that scale here, while the album’s healthy diversity of folk- and folk-related styles is impressive.
Most of the songs contain a story of some kind, from the title track’s enigmatic account of a friend of her aunt’s through to the Brontë-esque Where The White Rose Meets The Red and the more literally Brontë-esque Lucy Snowe (a revisit of a song from 1976’s Silent Mother Nature LP). But arguably the most beguiling are Nothing Love Does Surprises Me and Thoughts On Thomas Hardy, both of which furnish even more accurate clues as to Catherine’s inspirations and literary sensibilities.
In addition to Catherine’s own songs, Vo has contributed two compositions which occupy opposite poles of emotion: the fond, rippling Going Home contrasts with the lonely, desperate Slip Away. Vo’s accompaniments are a true model of sensitivity, entirely in sympathy with the gently compelling moods and lovely melodic lines conjured by Catherine’s songs; they were deliberately recorded “as live”, with no separation, to reflect the spontaneity of their music-making together. On a handful of the songs, Catherine and Vo are joined by Ric Sanders, whose equally fluid and sensitively moulded violin playing shows considerable flair as ever.
English Tale is a strong and involving set that shows Catherine is still very much a force to be reckoned with, especially with her dream team of accompanist/s.
www.catherinehowe.co.uk
www.vofletcher.com
David Kidman August 2010
Iain Thomson, the “singing shepherd” from the Isle of Mull, has assembled a fine cast of folk musicians to help him bring his particular musical vision to disc. Caught somewhere between the sentimental and deeply felt love of home often found in folk music and the political agenda of a Dick Gaughan, this almost entirely self-penned album brings a selection of stories relating to Iain's own life, the people of his homeland and the people he encounters whose story catch his fancy. Which means that he covers ground as diverse as his own experiences driving a truck from Glasgow down the M74 and M6 all the way to the tale of the press gangs at the time of the Napoleonic wars trawling the west coast for 'recruits'.
Mostly, though, this album is a lament for lost times and a lost way of life; it is a fact that the west coast agriculture which has been Iain Thomson's own working life has been in ever more marked decline in the last few years. The stock, cows and sheep, have been steadily disappearing from the landscape, and with them have gone all the people who worked with such a deep sense of connection to the land and to all their forbears who had worked the same land in generations past. The reasons for this decline are many and debatable; economic pressures and political pressures play their part - as they do in steel towns, mining towns and all the rest in other parts of the UK. On Scotland's west coast, though, the old townships leave their ruins behind to induce a poignant longing for old certainties.
Iain's songs deal with all these things with an almost naïve simplicity and marry the words to a lyrical, wistful set of tunes. There's some gently beautiful playing from his many cohorts, with Marc Duff's whistle, piano and bouzouki playing being particularly prominent. That whistle, especially, often conjours the frequently bleak grandeur of the west coast. A thing I learned about music of gaelic origin a long time ago is that it sounds just brilliant in the open air, so I'd recommend you stick this on your personal player of choice and take a stroll up on a hill somewhere. You'll see what I mean. Failing that, you could do worse than follow up the story of the title song, Fields of Dreams. Alluding to the Kevin Costner film, Iain's song brings the tale of a west coast version of such single minded optimism. This is the true story of Calum MacLeod of Raasay who built a stretch of road to connect his own township to the council road in an effort to ensure the township's survival. The tale is told in Roger Hutcheson's excellent little book and is well worth checking out.
John Davy August 2010
Loudon’s latest celebrates 40 years since his first recording with a typically acerbic set of new songs that say all they need to say in the space of less than three minutes. Two of them are covers of songs written at the time of the original Great Depression, which have just as much relevance for our times and their New Depression, drawing the keenest of parallels with our current situation (plus ça change, indeed): The Panic Is On, from the pen of medicine show performer Hezekiah Jenkins, and On To Victory Mr Roosevelt by Texas politician W. Lee O’Daniel.
The remaining eight compositions range from straightahead trenchant right-on socio-political observation in the Guthrie mould that address the issues and concerns of this day (Times Is Hard) through to a couple of more lightweight slightly-silly creations (Halloween 2009 and I Got A Ukulele), while a song titled Cash For Clunkers will be abundantly self-explanatory!… Along the way, the recurring thought is that “the present will most assuredly stretch into the foreseeable future” (this percipient soundbite is taken from Loudon’s own personalised liner notes). The paranoid polemic of Fear Itself is a perfect illustration that nobody is immune from the catastrophes of the world or the paradoxes of the American Dream (payback time comes with the quatrain “You know that job I always said that I hated? Well yesterday they gave me the sack. Loving your work is so damn overrated – I sure wish to God I had that job back!”). And on Middle Of The Night, Loudon taps into his own personal psychological depression and becomes empowered to purvey an optimistic point of view. For “it’s not the end of the world, good people.
In the great tradition of the minstrel show, ostensibly downbeat lyrics are hammered home with almost relentlessly jaunty, upbeat tunes, although the disc’s most pensive moment, House, hits home (sorry!) equally powerfully without resorting to a singalong mode. Aside from some mildly intrusive sound-effects on Halloween 2009, the admirably bare-bones voice-and-one-instrument (guitar, banjo or uke) settings ensure that Mr Wainwright Snr’s message comes across “Loudon-clear” at all times. For his commentary is as cutting, and as cutting-edge, as ever; this is political songwriting par excellence, shot through with complete honesty and of course laced with more than a touch of mordant humour and rapier-sharp wit, even when the targets are at their most obvious. Quite simply, there’s no-one can do it like Loudon, and the guy’s sure on form again here.
David Kidman August 2010
The Hurd is an intriguing “nu-folk-medieval-fusion” trio (their words not mine!); they’ve been around since 2008, but this disc is the first I’ve hurd of them (sorry, couldn’t resist!). The Hurd’s lineup of hurdy gurdy/recorder, bassoon/soprano sax and guitar/mandolin is enough to cause a stir, and the sound they make is both fresh and distinctly spicy and (fully as you’d expect) also strongly individual.
The idea to form the band came from gurdy player Christine Truman, whose passion for French dance music and the desire to experiment continually bear fruit in a propensity for original composition; the blending of her instrument with Steve Lock’s even fruitier bassoon and Steve Smith’s stylish and intricately driven guitar work is an inspired one. Five Steps is The Hurd’s debut CD, and it comprises French dances from many ages creatively-arranged and interspersed with (or set alongside) Christine’s own compositions (these are so authentically configured they might easily pass for traditional).
All three players display an outstanding sense of musicianship that enables them to rework the tunes and take them off into often unexpected territory, joyfully experimenting with offbeat rhythmic accents and diverse texturings that make the most of dynamic interplay and shading while retaining the movement and essence of the dance. And the sheer nature of the instruments themselves gives rise to some delicious, if occasionally extreme, timbral contrasts, with the sweetly tender and the sublimely raucous in telling juxtaposition, sometimes during the course of the same piece. Particularly invigorating are the pair of Chabenat dances (track 6), the twisted medieval jig The Apple Press, the animated pair of waltzes (track 9), the spirited brace of three-time bourées (track 11) and the mildly overdubbed A Miller’s Tale (which even calls to mind the neoclassical world of late-period Stravinsky). An unusual album, expertly recorded and coordinated, which deserves one’s attentive listening.
David Kidman August 2010
For those readers not in the (time-) loop, Doctor Socrates is a locally-much-renowned quartet of Newcastle roots-rockers. Here they demonstrate considerable ingenuity in assembling for our edification a concept album that affords us an exhilarating (if in the end quite exhausting!) hour-long trip through time in their five-inch-square Tardis. The good Doctor’s mission is to express indigenous folk music of his native north-east in a variety of styles while keeping the songs’ essential spirit intact - and I do believe his band has largely succeeded. The concept cannily brings together strictly traditional sources and classic recent songwriting with a healthy quotient of self-penned material (courtesy of lead vocalist/guitarist Phil Kitchen), and moves easily through the ages in an admirably chronological sequence.
The disc opens with a stirring unaccompanied rendition of the dialect song Sair Fyel’d Hinny, a typically depressing rumination on mortality, before launching headlong into the tale of a Border Reiver hero Jock O’ The Side, one of several tracks which have much of the feel of the gutsy Blyth Power brand of folk-rock (never a bad thing!). Moving on to timeline 1640, the first of the album’s originals, The Battle, takes the perspective of an unwilling conscript at Newburn, the only major battle to be fought on Tyneside; giving the album a satisfying symmetry, this song is bookended by the desperately blues-inflected The Ballad Of Johnny Armstrong, which draws its totally relevant parallel in recounting the tale of one of the working-class poor who are as always being used by those in power to fight their battles. A suitably rumbustious canter through the satirical Cam Ye O’er Frae France is contrasted by a passionately delivered fragment of the press-gang song Captain Bover, to which is appended a perhaps overly jaunty, jazzy take on Here’s The Tender Coming that even features a mild outbreak of cheery whistling! The old chestnut Buy Broom Buzzems then gets the full “18th century pop chart hit” treatment and emerges virtually unscathed.
After this, we get a sequence of mining songs, prefaced by a powerful spoken-word piece based on a contemporary news report of the 1815 Heaton Pit Disaster (with delicately managed guitar backdrop courtesy of band member John Dowsett). Alongside the inevitable Blackleg Miner (well above the purely workmanlike), there’s the spirited musical dialogue between The Coal Owner And The Pitman’s Wife (here represented by Phil and Lynn Dowsett), a brace of songs by pit-poet Tommy Armstrong and a banjo-led take on Byker Hill that in its effort to rock out rather misses the anthemic point of the song. Between these is sandwiched Sarah Charlton’s Lament, brilliantly characterised by Wendy Saint, which tenderly yet harrowingly portrays the plight of a woman working in the Northumberland Leadworks.
The disc closes with three of its best tracks: Take It, It’s Yours (a caustic scattergun critique of life in post-industrial Newcastle), Archie And Them (a poignant modern narrative telling of an old man whose home was cruelly demolished with a redevelopment scheme, which is done traditional-style and interspersed Radio-Ballad-style with sampled snatches of interviews with Archie’s neighbours), and an inventive rap-style update (by Kenny Masters) of Louis MacNeice’s poem Bagpipe Music which develops into a justified rant on contemporary society. First playthrough of the whole album in one sitting gives a momentary impression of unevenness, but a swift return brings dividends and an equally swift realisation of the project’s unity and integrity of purpose. The basic musical delivery may seem a tad ramshackle at times, but I really like that - and anyway, there’s no question that Doc Soc’s hearts (and heads and voices!) are all very much in the right place. And Time Travelling fairly immediately reveals itself as a dynamic and very persuasive release.
David Kidman August 2010
Releasing her debut EP, Dead Flowers, earlier this year, the Nashville singer-songwriter’s being hailed as one of the brightest new stars on the Americana scene. Now, slightly more polished, her debut album t finds her giving old school country a contemporary eye while brushing hands with blues and soul.
Beguilingly simple folk-country opening track Learnin’ To Ride shows Iris DeMent comparisons are not misplaced while her keening tones on the similarly old school bruised broken heart ballad Sinful Wishing Well also hint at a young Loretta. Elsewhere the obvious comparison is with the coy little girl purity of Zooey Deschanel, notably so on soulful 50s waltzing torch ballad For The Rabbits (written when she was just 16) and the handclapping, brass backed uptempo rocker Shanghai Cigarettes.
That bouncy side of her comes out too on clomping saloon bar boogie New York City, the choppy harp blowing Nashville country of Spare Me, loping cathouse blues Coming Up and a country twanged cover of Fleetwood Mac’s That’s All right.
However, it’s on the wearier numbers she shines best, the vulnerable slow waltzing country rock title track mining the spirit of Patsy Cline (whose Three Cigarettes In An Ashtray she covered on the EP) to tug at the heartstrings between sips from the beer glass. It’s early days yet, but with a playfulness and lack of front to go with the voice, fingerpicking guitar and songwriting abilities, this Rose looks like proving a remarkable and enduring bloom.
www.thecaitlinrose.com
www.myspace.com/caitlinrosesongs
Mike Davies August 2010
A six piece from LA with four singers and songwriters, they’re signed to the label owned by Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes, who also produced the debut album. That Southern influence is evident with the soulful piano, harmonies and hooks laden melodies over a dozen tracks that should easily place them on the radar.
Opening with the appropriately titled Hail, Hail, a linked arms singalong bar room tune where you’ll hear shades of The Band, Dylan and The Eagles, that 70s Cali roots-rock rings throughout.
From the bounce along sunshine twang of Welcome To L.A., where The Mavericks meet The Rainmakers, the radio friendly anthemics of Call Back and boogie shuffle See Her to the Sam Cooke-tinted country gospel soul roller She Really Does It For Me and, sounding like a backwoods Kings Of Leon, piano ballad closer Pure Mountain Angel.
If they can avoid slipping into the same sort of Nashville slickened country rock n roll that’s neutered the like of Lonestar, they could well shift truckloads of albums and retain an Americana cred.
Mike Davies August 2010
Although it’s the former Beautiful South songwriter and guitarist whose name adorns the sleeve of his first solo album, he takes a back seat for the vocals, handing over duties to an impressive collection of guests.
Apparently things were set in motion when he recruited folk singer Jim Causley to sing on The Sparrow, The Thrush & The Nightingale, a jaunty, whistled refrain jazzy allegory of greed, egos and ambition in the music industry. Rotheray decided to expand the idea and write an entire album loosely based around birds with topics that range from teenage sexuality to mental illness to empty nesters.
Causely resurfaces, duetting with Peak District traditionalist Bella Hardy as Melvin Duffy provides pedal steel, on The Hummingbird On Your Calendar while Hardy herself takes charge of The Digital Cuckoo, a co-penned number Rotheray describes as "a technophobe raging against electric clocks", and the simple acoustic sexual awakening/loss off innocence themed Living Before The War.
Reflecting the creative round, that’s co-written by Eleanor McEvoy who, in turn, provided the music and vocals for Almost Beautiful’s poignant account of Alzheimer’s as seen from the conflicted perspective ("sometimes a pillow over the face.. that’s a kind of love too") of the victim’s other half.
McEvoy takes co-writing credits on a couple of other numbers, too. Violin and piano ballad The Best Excuse In The World features Irish singer-songwriter and Nick Cave collaborator Jack Lukeman channelling a middle-aged man’s regret that, for reasons never made clear, he ‘can’t be in love’. The other number’s The Road To The South, a slow building reflection on friends who’ve migrated to London, stained with regret by the dark, earthy voice of Eliza Carthy who also handles the equally folk-music hall feel of Cover Your Garden Over’s commentary on short-termism.
Of the remaining tracks, the sweet voiced Kathryn Williams sings her co-written old before her time meditation on monogamy Crows, Ravens and Locks while Flying Lessons (a song inspired by interviews of astronauts who’ve walked on the moon) is handled by smoky voiced Sheffield co-writer Nat Johnson (with McEvoy on guitar and backing vocals and Rod Clements on dobro).
Given appropriate gravity by Julie Murphy with Damon Butcher providing the sombre piano figure, Taller Than Me is a trad flavoured number about a parent contemplating their child’s death of old age, Alasdair Roberts offers a similarly trad mood for the Draughty Old Fortress and its metaphor about self-created isolation, leaving Camille O’Sullivan to sweeten the album’s second song about Alzheimer’s, this time steeped in the irony of it being a blessing for those with only bad memories.
The melody’s written by Causley, nicely bringing album and review full circle for The Sparrow And The Thrush And The Nightingale Part II, a year later sequel which finds one considering a reunion tour, one in litigation and one with a lucrative solo career. In the metaphorical aviary, I suspect Rotheray’s the turtle dove.
Mike Davies August 2010
Although one suspects that’s not the name on the 25 year old Liverpudlian’s birth certificate, her adopted musical bloodlines clearly flow through Memphis and the Mississippi. Reared on her parents collection of Bonie Raitt, Taj Mahal, Patsy Cline and Stevie Ray Vaughan records, the pivotal moment in deciding her direction came with a copy of Rory Block’s Best Blues and Originals.
Teaching herself to play guitar (left-handed) from Son House and Leadbelly discs, she set about forging her own music. Her debut mini-album is an impressive opening statement of intent, even if the Dolly Parton twang to her voice isn’t one you usually associate with devotees of the delta blues. However, as the two covers underline, she clearly knows her stuff.
Taken at a sleepy liquor soaked afternoon pace Slow Down is a rare number by Chicago guitarist J.B Lenoir while on Eric Bibb’s jerky barroom swagger Don’t Ever Let Nobody Drag Your Spirit Down she interlaces a handclap backed verse from Reverend Gary Davis’ Gonna Sit Down On The Banks Of The River.
Of her own contributions, Broken Branches leans towards the countrier side of her musical raising with a Louisiana blues shuffle that conjures images of molasses jars and hillside stills while the finger-picked Stop Worrying shows more of a 50s pop influence and Any Way I Want To is a lazy swoon riposte to a domineering lover declaring she’s gonna lay back and pour a few stiff ones to "feel bad anyway that I want to". You could almost hear Bessie Smith growling it out.
She needs to deepen her guitar technique and probably needs to down a few more quarts of bourbon before she sounds as stained and seasoned as Block, but, while she does look a little too wholesome for the genre, this is one Maid who won’t be in waiting for long.
Mike Davies August 2010
It’s unclear whether Thompson recorded this prior to or after The Storys decided to disband, either way it emerges as the singer-guitarist’s debut album, featuring contributions from fellow former Story members Andy Collins and Alan Thomas. Not surprisingly given his input into that outfit, his own album has a similar soft rock musical feel (he has, after all, had songs featured on One Tree Hill) with a balance beween laid back swaying ballads like It All Makes Sense In The End and the mid-tempo roll of the poppy Could You Come Around?
Where things do depart, however, is the way in which Thompson’s other influences make themselves evident. He cites Crowded House, Wilco and the Jayhawks and they’re clearly present in the soft delivery and melodies, but he also includes Pink Floyd on the list. Listening to the full length version of the title track, the seven minute The Director’s Cut, Watching How All The Dust’s Drawn To The TV and The Ending Credits, while not going over the top into Floydian dramatics, there’s certainly lurking echoes of Dark Side of the Moon and I’d suspect he’s more of a Waters than a Gilmour fan.
While its chances of success are probably higher in American than the UK, this is a highly accomplished and immensely listenable album. Dare I say it, you really should gather Dust.
www.myspace.com/robthompsonofficial
Mike Davies August 2010
Colosseum has been going since 1968 (with a long hiatus between 1978 and 1994) in various incarnations and boasts some of the best musicians ever to have graced a stage in the UK. Vocalist Chris Farlowe, guitarist Clem Clempson, keyboards player Dave Greenslade, bassist Mark Clarke and drummer Jon Hiseman have been the mainstays and Hiseman's wife, Barbara Thompson took over saxophone duties from founder member Dick Heckstall-Smith, who died in 2004. This 2 disc live album, recorded in Germany and Austria in 2005 covers a number of tracks from their 1971 Live album, which came out just before the original band broke up for the first time. The opener, Come Right Back is bluesy with big sounds from a tight band, as you would expect with their joint pedigrees. Theme For An Imaginary Western - this is my first real involvement with Colosseum but this prog rock with flecks of jazz is just what I expected, especially when it was written by Pete Brown and Jack Bruce. Good guitar from Clempson and a great rapport with the crowd. Rope Ladder To The Moon, another Brown/Bruce composition, is an English blues and this is more like it - over 8 minutes, an organ solo - true prog band form. The Valentyne Suite covers three tracks, January's Search, which is an expansive instrumental covering jazz, prog rock & classical themes all backed with frenetic sax from Thompson and Farlowe, February's Valentyne which also has sax to the fore and builds to the end and finally, The Grass Is Always Greener where Clempson's guitar gets its chance in the slower passages.
The second disc opens with Those About To Die, a mix of rock (classic and prog) and jazz and is followed by the T-Bone Walker classic, Stormy Monday Blues. This has sharp guitar from Clempson who trades licks with Thompson on sax. The laconic drums of Hiseman and Clarke's bass back things up very well with Chris Farlowe in his element with his vocal gymnastics. Dave Greenslade lifts the whole thing to a different level with his playing. No Pleasin' is a straightforward rocker without too much interference and although there is no doubting the virtuosity of the musicians, it is Clempson's guitar that shines through. This merges into Tomorrows Blues, a prog fest at over 11 minutes although not a blues as such. The penultimate track, Drum Into LA has a virtuoso performance from Hiseman on drums, although it is short for a drum solo at 2 minutes 56 seconds, before it leads into Lost Angeles, which at over16 minutes is a true prog/jazz epic. Greenslade is to the fore and Farlowe's voice is still going strong although we could do without the scat. This is a classic example of a Great British institution and as the sleeve notes say, "turn it down to deafening".
David Blue August 2010
Dale is widely regarded as one of country music's last authentic voices, and his latest offering, Carryin' On, finds him – er, carryin' on carryin' on and comin' up with the goods, with 14 songs that sound like they've been around for ages but are all in fact recent compositions of Dale's. For the majority of the album's 43 minutes, I'd say, straight-down-the-line honky tonk just don't come any better than this, and we all know it.
Which makes the album all the more difficult to review, cos it's all been said before and there ain't no more to say. Period. Life in bars, on the road, with family and friends, all the ups and downs and trials and tribulations -- it's all in there in Dale's songs, he's lived it and keeps living it. Standouts in terms of memorability? ok, the moody Heart Of Stone, the charming Flower In Your Hair, the rapid-fire scattergun I'll Show You, and especially the intimate (distinctly Orbison-esque) barroom shuffle For A Little While, but virtually every song here's a would-be-classic in the approved mould (tho' not breaking any new ground, nor does it need to). The only slightly jarring moment comes with the chirpy Tequila, Whiskey And Beer, Oh My!, which goes too far down the Disneyfied yellow-brick-road of Oz to be convincing.
But as you'd expect, there's no faulting Dale's support crew, including as it does Lloyd Green (pedal steel), Pig Robbins (piano), Dennis Crouch (bass), Pete Wade (guitars) and Glenn Duncan (fiddle), with the four-strong Carol Lee Singers on backing vocals. And Dale himself is in fine, reliable voice of course. It shouldn't need to be said that Dale's legions of admirers will find no reason not to purchase this album immediately.
David Kidman August 2010
This Cornish outfit has been proudly flying the flag for the region’s indigenous music over the course of ten years and three albums; indeed, band member Neil Davey was (with his group Bucca) one of those responsible for kick-starting the Cornish traditional music revival back in the 1970s.
Now Dalla returns for a further persuasive invocation of the magic of Cornwall; Cribbar is a lively and compelling portrait of its music and traditions, on which multi-instrumentalist Neil is joined once again by clarinettist/singer Hilary Coleman and singer/darabuka player Bec Applebee, along with new recruit, guitarist and crowdy crawn player Steve Hunt. Through a well-engineered sequence of tunes and songs, the flavour of Cornish traditions is authentically evoked in performances that are uplifting, committed and energetic. Those class acts Tanglefoot and Churchfitters might most immediately spring to mind as ready-made comparisons, but Dalla unquestionably possess their own distinctive and piquant regional identity.
Cribbar’s opening track has a strong link to Neil’s childhood home; the sound of the Huer’s Horn ushers in an account of the troyls (parties) once held at Newquay harbour’s fish-cellars. The disc then goes on to parade before us a veritable local pageant incorporating a bewildering, and intensely satisfying, variety of music. First there’s several rollicking sets of tunes, bringing in the traditional kabm pymp (Cornish five-step), oll adro, jowster and furry dance; some are given an almost klezmer feel by Hilary’s clarinet, some showcase Neil’s dazzling bouzouki playing, while others include guest musicians on accordion, viola or gaita bagpipes. And the invigorating Talla Rooz might be thought of as a Cornish equivalent of Gaelic mouth music.
As respite from the dances we’re treated to a gorgeous, hypnotic chiming Ann Tremellan (a Cornish version of Barbara Allen), a sensitive rendition of “witchy” Maggie May (the late-19th-century American song popularised in Padstow by Charlie Bate), a vivid dream-inspired composition of Hilary’s (Turning Of The Tide) and a pot-pourri segment of the dramatic music from Bec’s one-woman theatre show telling the story of Cornish highwaywoman Mary Bryant (was she a distant relative, I wonder, of master Cornish songwriter Roger Bryant, whose rousing Falmouth Packet forms the basis of an earlier track?).
Throughout, Dalla prove to have a keen ear for innovative instrumental and vocal blending while making great capital out of their traditional sources. Cribbar! I cry – for this mighty wave of Cornish music is breaking on your shore: so prepare to be engulfed by the tide.
David Kidman August 2010
"Everybody wants you to make it", sing Steve Balsamo and Rob Thompson on the opening track of the same title. That sentiment is certainly true of the loyal fan base the band accrued and the reviewers who extolled their first two albums and numerous live shows. Unfortunately, the record buying public as a whole remained disappointingly resistant to the band's close harmony charms and West Coast influenced country tinged soft rock melodies. Consequently, after surviving a series of career setbacks over the years, the band finally called it a day with a farewell hometown concert in Cardiff this June. But not before leaving behind this valedictory farewell as a reminder of what the world at large is missing.
As before, references to The Eagles, CS&N, Poco, and Jackson Browne are inevitable, but never do these songs suffer by comparison, indeed the likes of Daylight Calls Again, Burning Sun and closing ballad All Inside can stand shoulder to shoulder with the very best of those SoCal giants. On the harmonica opening of Take All The Time That You Need, you'll also hear a touch of Neil Young before it opens out into a stadium piano power ballad where Elton meets Bon Jovi.
The decision to wind things up is all the more disappointing since, after providing back up harmonies on Town Beyond The Trees, when founder member DaiSmith left in 2008, Rosalie Deighton was enlisted as his vocal replacement alongside Balsamo, Thompson and Andy Collins. Sadly, the album proves to be her first and last outing with the band, but in taking lead to play Stevie Nicks on the Fleetwood Mac-like Please Come Home she's ensured an enduring part in their history.
On the softly tingling mid-tempo soft rocking Before I Fall, Balsamo sings about standing at the crossroads and asks "should I chance my hand at another throw?" Let's hope they do.
www.thestorys.co.uk
www.myspace.com/thestorys
Mike Davies August 2010
Had Hope Sandoval been born in the north of England and spent her formative years glued to records by Sandy Denny, Annie Briggs and Shirley Collins while reading gothic romances, then she might have been fronting the Manchester outfit rather than Jayn Hanna.
Having taken a lengthy sabbatical following 2006's Floodlights EP, she returns with a new album - recorded between Hebden Bridge and San Francisco - heavily featuring co-producer Mark Peters from The Engineers on guitars.
The combination gives a good idea of what to expect with the album's meld of drone and folk beautifully encapsulated in coincidentally titled five minute opener Hope (though it's perhaps Nico era Velvets that provides the influence more here) where her narcotic ethereal vocals give way to a wall of guitar noise reverb.
Save for the hypnotic Stay In Silence - which conjures thoughts of union of Mike Oldfield, Kate Bush and Cocteau Twins - such sonic swells don't put in a reappearance, but Peters still makes his presence felt, whether with the ambient guitar that underpins the dark pastoral acoustics of The Weight or providing the icy drone accompaniment to Hanna's vocals and organs on the neo-Gregorian feel of Borderlines.
It is, however, John Hogg who, along with drone player Mandi Solk, who invests Dead Flame Rising with the Jansch-like folk blues accompaniment to the trad flavours of Dead Flame Rising, a number coiled with a musical tension to mirror the suppressed passion of the lyrics.
Although they sound nothing alike, on the closing All Coming Back, the band create an atmospheric akin to Clanaad circa The Hooded Man, then feed it through a psych-folk filter to create something intoxicatingly spaced to which you suspect Syd Barrett might have chilled. I'd file that under a major recommendation.
www.thesteals.com
www.myspace.com/thestealsmusic
Mike Davies August 2010
The Holmes Brothers (Sherman Holmes, Wendell Holmes and Popsy Dixon) have for around 30 years been developing and refining their own personal brand of gospel-flavoured R&B that mixes in soul, blues and even rock’n’roll and country, and their new album is unquestionably their most assured offering yet. It follows apace from 2007’s stunning State Of Grace, with an even more enticing array of material that ranges from fervent originals (nine out of the fourteen tracks, most of these penned by guitarist/pianist Wendell) to five inspired covers. The latter include the lesser-known Lennon/McCartney number I’ll Be Back, Robey & Washington’s Pledging My Love and (perhaps finest of all) a never-before-recorded original by celebrated soul songwriter John Ellison, Something Is Missing. The trio’s deep commitment to their material is matched by their expressive combination of worldly soulfulness and uplifting, infectious spirituality. Not to mention their expert three-part vocal harmonies, rock-solid yet pliant rhythm section and loads of tasty bluesy-gospel licks, fills and melody lines: hey, these guys really do seem to’ve got it all. Just sample a cross-section of tracks and you’ll hear what I mean: from Feed My Soul and Dark Cloud, Rounding Third to the moving closer Take Me Away, this is a thoroughly stylish and satisfyingly emotional experience from start to finish, tailored entirely naturally by one of the very best outfits in the business. Great production too (by long-term collaborator Joan Osborne), brilliantly clear and with plenty of depth.
David Kidman August 2010
Don’t be fooled by the unprepossessing, strait-laced-sounding name – this music is hot, energetic and highly tasty! Unbelievably, the UFQ as a performing ensemble was launched barely a year ago, but it seems to have fast found its feet – even though at times it doesn’t seem to know on which of the world’s many dance floors they’re to be stepping out!
For in its ranks we encounter that eternally puckish, irrepressible fiddler-extraordinaire Joe Broughton conjoining in glorious synchronicity with three of the most experienced and in-demand young people working in today’s vital folk-world-fusion scene: fellow-fiddler Paloma Trigás, oud-obsessed string-plucker/strummer Frank Moon (who just happens to be a pal of Joe’s from his Birmingham Conservatoire days) and ace percussionist Tom Chapman. Together they conjure up an mercurial, ever-inventive, joyously restless, often bewilderingly frantic sequence of original compositions which jump gleefully off the diving-board of traditional folk dance forms into a veritable Seven Seas (and more) of musical adventures that playfully and entirely unashamedly embrace Latin, North African, Eastern European, Pan-Celtic and Middle-Eastern grooves and much else besides.
If on paper that all sounds a touch on the side of been-there done-that know-it-all and so what, then I assure you it’s not. Just sample track 2, The Stony Steps Set, as a starter: the super-brilliant funky percussion work will stun your feet into submission even before Joe’s phantasmagorical fiddle kicks in (and what a kick!). The equally funky treatment of the traditional Wedding Dress even brings in some well-upholstered vocal harmonies as a refrain, showing there’s no shortage of all-round talent in the band, while their versatility extends beyond the fast-and-furious to a deliberate and carefully expressive slackening of pace on the more reflective Suspiro Del Moro. After which, the joyous rhythmical restlessness of tracks like 35 and the “herbs against racism” number Perejil Reel proves even more infectious and rewarding (if not always kind to the feet!).
Throughout, the UFQ unashamedly draw their key inspiration from traditional folk dance musics, sure, but dance forms and rhythms are used as the initial springboard for all manner of abundantly playful adventures and musical discoveries. They never settle on one style or influence for long, but at the same time they don’t wear out your nerve endings by keeping you guessing for too long where they’re heading – although the final destination usually comes as a welcome development if not exactly a surprise. Yes, the UFQ’s music is sometimes exhilarating to a fault, but always great fun, for there’s a generous sprinkling of humour that balances the sparkling élan of the quartet’s musicianship.
David Kidman August 2010
Here the masterly Roscommon-born piano accordionist delivers his third solo album, which turns out to be a richly relaxed and beautifully varied sequence that seamlessly blends traditional with contemporary in superbly fresh and stylish settings. The bulk of the disc is instrumental, presenting Alan’s inspired arrangements of traditional tunes emanating from Ireland, Brittany, Asturias, and even Louisiana. These are topped up with a selection of Alan’s own compositions ranging from the infectious jig rhythms of the title track and the genially lilting New Year’s Day to the Tuscan-inspired waltz Siena and the gentle, reflective character portrait Eolann. To complement the drive of his own wonderfully lithe and precise playing, Alan calls on the magnificently supportive musicianship of an intimate galaxy of friends including Tola Custy (fiddle), Ian Carr and Donncha Moynihan (guitars), Jim Higgins (percussion) and Rod McVey (keyboards). As an added bonus, Eddi Reader and Kris Drever turn in one appealing vocal cameo apiece, making this exuberant and seriously uplifting disc an even more attractive proposition.
www.myspace.com/alankellymusic
David Kidman August 2010
This charismatic Anglo-Australian partnership is by now firmly established on the UK folk circuit. Nancy’s fiddle playing is fluid and expertly contoured, capable of lyrical sensitivity and a passionate rhythmic drive, while James’s Sobell guitar-bouzouki combines forceful onward momentum and intimate intricacy. The duo’s intelligent and sparkling musicianship and wonderfully complementary instrumental – and let’s not forget vocal – skills really draw the listener in, as ever, on this their fifth recording as a duo.
But Twice Reflected Sun also forms a significant departure from previous releases in that instead of presenting a mix of traditional and contemporary writing, songs and tunes drawn from English and Australian sources, it consists entirely of self-penned material (nine songs by Nancy and two instrumentals by James). Nancy moves away from the creative direct adaptation of purely traditional material; here, inspired by the shared histories of the UK and Australia, her belief is that in the end it is experience, rather than place or culture, that connects us as people. Nancy and James companionably trade lead vocals as the album progresses, shifting between England and Australia for inspiration.
Initially, the Twice Reflected Sun shines on home ground, with Nancy bidding farewell to life on an English canal in music of delicious dancing poetry (Queen Of Waters). James takes the helm for bushranger-ballad Jerilderie, then on Dolerite Skies Nancy plaintively portrays Tasmania in time of drought before James returns us to home turf for the determinedly English imagery of I Am The Fox. Flower Picker’s Song is both charming and gently reflective, and the pensive yet beautiful A Lover’s Hymn provides another highlight; but maybe the lovely Hauling On needs just an ounce more thrust (and a longer chorus?) to fully realise its intended anthemic import.
The disc’s last two songs come with dedications: the folksy Sweet Peace to nonagenarian Pete Seeger, and the jazzy Rammed Earth to Charles Darwin. The latter features sterling double bass work from Rick Foot, while Nancy & James’ touring partner Robert Harbron contributes English concertina or guitar to a further five tracks including the first of the disc’s instrumentals (The Floating Mountains); the second (Night Night) is even more persuasive in its melding of the lilt and ambience of Scandinavian music with Celtic or English modality. Twice Reflected Sun both well encapsulates Nancy & James’ appeal and moves their creative endeavours onto a higher plane of invention.
David Kidman August 2010
Kath’s a Central Lancashire-based singer-songwriter who’s been all too modestly building herself a quiet reputation for her work over a period of some ten to a dozen years. She’s a regular and ever-welcome performer at Skipton Folk & Unplugged, but she’s also known for winning the Songwriting (Keith Marsden Memorial) Trophy at Saltburn Folk Festival not all that many years back.
Her songs are characterised by a deep sense of humanity and a warm and involving passion for life and nature, expressed in simple and responsive language through well-crafted stanzas that sit well with her voice (and sing comfortably for those wishing to join in the choruses!). Kath’s singing voice is most pleasing, indeed I’d say gently captivating: blessed with a keen songwriter’s sense of line and phrasing, her technique is self-evidently accomplished without drawing attention to itself through unnecessary mannerism or over-expression. An occasional air of slight understatement in her vocal delivery (not a bad thing, I hasten to add) extends to her writing too, and yet you never feel that she needs to say anything more in any given song, the thoughts and feelings are complete and satisfying just as they are.
Particularly strong are Jenny (which gives sympathetic yet forthright advice to a friend being abused by a man), Goldfinches (which charmingly – pun intended! – expresses a revival of spirits, nay epiphany, on the sighting of a group of these beautiful birds), Song Of Irish Exile (self-explanatory, but powerfully characterised), Miner Of The Coal (not an industrial song, but instead a delicate, almost Carteresque expression of love couched in a universal philosophy), You Know Me (directly and tellingly expressing the bond that two close friends share) and Coyote (another example of how a comparatively small-scale experience of nature can acquire significance way beyond that moment). And the acappella On A Viking Sailing Ship is attractively bookended by an idiomatic guitar prelude and postlude.
I know I’ve namechecked over half of the album’s tracks already, but that only emphasises that Kath’s personal quality-control filter is pretty reliable and there’s not a weak song here at all – even the most obvious, the standardised political rant of Privileged Man, is lifted by its imaginative setting and delivery.
Over the years, Kath’s songwriting, though remaining intrinsically folk-based, has been increasingly influenced by Americana, and this development is reflected – and accentuated – in the change of producer for her latest album. In breezes the companionable David Crickmore, that wiz multi-instrumentalist, audio engineer and radio star (!), who stamps that enviably classy rootsy Durbervilles sensibility on the proceedings and almost incidentally gathers together to enhance Kath’s songs an assortment of deliciously apt cameo appearances from muso mates Damien Barber, Gordon Tyrrall, Shaun Reade, Sarah Smout and Emma Crickmore, with fellow-Durbs Ruth Wilde, Gus Taylor and Mark Boyce providing further constant support.
The arrangements are very tasty indeed, invariably convincing without ever intruding on the songs or swamping Kath’s magnificent voice; what’s more, scoring extra points when many of the finer details and imaginative instrumental touches emerge on successive plays. Accordion, lap steel, dobro, mandolin, autoharp, piano, recorders and genial rockin’ electric guitars: all these individual textures have their little part to play in the success of these songs, and Kath and her producer have evidently given much careful thought to their deployment. The two clearly work very well together, with David both understanding and accurately conveying the measure of Kath’s talent and artistic vision, and the result is a well-rounded and highly persuasive CD (complete with really appealing cover artwork too) that is sure to enhance Kath’s standing.
David Kidman August 2010
A little over two years ago, I reviewed a very fine CD, Islet, which paired Rebecca’s passionate and individual singing of a selection of traditional songs with the intricate and inventive traceries of Durham guitarist John Steele. For her latest recording project, Rebecca has recruited a host of accomplished traditional musicians from different cultures to assist her in bringing alive her brilliantly creative vision of these age-old ballads and songs.
Oh dear, I realise that might well conjure the image of a deliberately contrived ethno-centric mish-mash that replaces the intrinsic folk character of these songs with gimmicky multicultural baggage in order to tick the various boxes of trendy political correctness; but in reality the results of Rebecca’s musical adventures are without exception non-pretentious, fresh-sounding and thoroughly listenable – albeit very often more than mildly challenging.
And as I mentioned before, Rebecca’s darkly full-toned and gutsy singing – which has been described as “multi-ethnically informed” – will I guess either delight or infuriate according to taste, your reaction very probably being determined by how you respond to any singer with a strongly personal voicing and interpretive approach (it can be so easy to undeservedly mistake individual, sincerely rendered passion for laboured or mannered expression). For instance, on the disc’s closer, an idiosyncratic take on The Snows They Melt The Soonest, Rebecca is at her most vocally uncompromising and adventurous: here, in intoning the text to an equally emotive didgeridoo backdrop, she sometimes pulls the vowel sounds and melodic decorations around quite mercilessly (you are warned!).
Compared to which, the faint-eared will find much of the preceding album significantly easier going. For instance, on Rebecca’s percussively upbeat take on The Blacksmith, you can readily believe you’re listening to Kate Bush backed by 3 Mustaphas 3 and a Turkish fiddler, while her retelling of The Cutty Wren is propelled by a spicy flamenco-style rhythm. Just as on Islet, Rebecca demonstrates a keen response to English and Scottish traditional material and Quebequois call-and-response song alike, although you may feel especially on initial acquaintance that one or two of her determinedly imaginative settings seem too eccentric and “busy”. On the other hand, there are moments when the outcome of Rebecca’s creativity is simply so extraordinary that you’ve never heard the like before (the soundscape of Queen Jane is not at all easily describable, and will stop you in your tracks for sure, while the extended, subtly percussive drone-layered setting of Lagan Love is almost as astonishing in terms of atmospherics).
All told, you may well find it surprising (though welcomely so), that Rebecca’s often outstandingly original interpretations work as stunningly well as they do – although to be fair, part of the credit for this must go to Rebecca’s fellow-musicians. You’re unlikely to have heard of any of them (bar one), but they’re superb every last man, and I’d single out Joel Shore’s exceptionally characterful fiddle work (and rich, sepulchral backing-vocal cameo), Charlie Cares’ sprightly whistle and bodhrán playing (on Blanche Comme La Neige), and of course John Steele’s marvellously woven guitar tapestry on several tracks including a majestic, driven seven-minute take on The Bonnie Bonnie Banks Of Airdree-O. And a special mention for recording engineer-wizard Ron Angus, who plays guitar (is there no limit to this guy’s talents?!) in counterpoint to Teilhard Frost’s Quebec-style foot percussion on Let No Man Steal Your Time (sic), and Northumbrian piper Nichol Caisley who shows himself to be a hell of a fiddler too on Airdree. But all the members of Rebecca’s support crew are vitally important, as she acknowledges by devoting four pages of the excellent booklet to their biographical background.
Do give Cinnabar a chance, for it proves an intense and haunting experience, definitely one of the most stimulating CDs of traditional music I’ve heard this year.David Kidman August 2010
It always seems to have been the case that the albums made by Soft Machine after the departure of original drummer Robert Wyatt (ie 1973’s Six onwards) have been regarded as the poor relation in terms of musical interest, inventiveness and importance. But this assessment is not entirely justified in my opinion.
The replacement of free-blowing reed virtuoso Elton Dean (in 1972) with oboist and keyboardist (and composer) Karl Jenkins was a key element in the band’s change of musical emphasis, especially in respect of the input of new material. As was the incorporation post-Seven of a guitarist into the lineup for the first time – this being Allan Holdsworth, whose presence brought a whole new element within the group dynamic, making it barely recognisable from that purveyed by the original lineup (the only constant now being founding keyboardist Mike Ratledge).
This reissue of Bundles, the 1975 (recorded 1974) album which signalled the band’s move to the Harvest label, should afford ample opportunity for re-evaluation of this phase of the band’s long career, for its confident espousal of the new sound and fresh material proved both exhilarating and musically satisfying. The opening gambit was a side-long suite, Hazard Profile, which reworked a key theme from the Nucleus album We’ll Talk About It Later of five years previous – which of course had featured Karl in its lineup. Side Two, although it too played more or less continuously, was only marginally less consistent, and it contained some particularly fine moments in the fine, if rather astringent oboe solo on Peff, the limpid, shifting minimalism of The Floating World and the energetic title track. Even the obligatory (though brief) percussive interlude Four Gongs Two Drums emerges with credit. The fact that Holdsworth left the band rather abruptly just as Bundles was released lends the album an added potency, making it a unique (and unrepeatable) snapshot in the Soft Machine canon.
David Kidman August 2010
This release, subtitled "a collection of songs of exile and exiled songs", is the brainchild of Transglobal Underground's Tim Whelan and Hamid Man Tu. It's also the product of a long period of research in obscure places to find and collect songs on the chosen theme, a process which was followed by a process of taking stock of a large potential group of collaborators in order to create something reflecting the growth of that network and its contacts and movements.
So much for the mission statement and background – what does it sound like? Well, in parts much like an even-wider-scoped Imagined Village I guess. And a significant proportion of it will probably come into the "it shouldn't work but it does" or "by rights I shouldn't like this but hey this is good" categories, for there's a frequent, nay insistent use of electronica as a staple backdrop, which needn't be a bad thing if it's in capable hands – which it is here.
Perhaps inevitably, reputed enfant-terrible Jim Moray makes an appearance, quite naturally cohering with the bleeps and noodles as he gets to grips with the traditional English ballad Lisbon in tandem (and creative alternation) with Nóri Kovacs' powerful rendition of a soldier song from Katonadalok: a rewarding combination as it turns out. Martin Furey performs a similar role with Van Diemen's Land, which employs a more bouzouki-centred setting and an incidental contribution from throat singer Bartomiej Palyga before heading off into a cacophonic mantra.
Even given these clues, it's still hard to imagine the impact this disc will have on any individual listener, or even what it will sound like from track to track. For instance, A Miner's Dream Of Home (featuring Tindersticks' Stuart Staples and a prominent role for pedal steel) is equipped with an almost carnivalesque aura, while once over its gloopy introduction Away To A Stranger becomes a persuasive mix of keening voice (Nóri again) and solid dub-style bass. More traditional sounds, this time sourced from Bulgaria and Hungary, bestride the former land's Perunika Trio for their forthright take on Hey You Shepherd, in which the female protagonist laments her unusual fate.
With appealing cheekiness, TGU's Devet Deset reflects perhaps the weirdest choice of subject-matter (albeit well within the parameters set by the project's central theme): the story of the two Czech comedians Voskovec and Werich who were driven from their homeland by the Nazis who were offended at their satirical stance. Companion piece Against The Storm, which features the remix skills of Czech dubsteppers Side 9000, further develops their story. Human Atomic Clock melds tribal breakbeat with East European klezmer. Other highlights include the transformed Hungarian folksong I Left My Sweet Homeland (sung by Nóri), Keranka (which features Trio Bulgarka's Tanka Rupkina), and the ultra-enigmatic chant-like Hudci, a decidedly strange creation from Prague's Autposia and Achtar. The more cheery sound of the chirpily (steel-)pan-global finale Farewell My Own Dear Native Land brings the carnival right back home in a not-entirely-convincing state of homespun cautious optimism.
Altogether, though, this Gathering Of Strangers is best regarded as an album of ideas: ideas which add up to a telling meditation on the ever-relevant theme, along the way forming both a stimulating exploratory exercise and in the end a series of surprisingly coherent musical statements.
www.myspace.com/unitegatheringofstrangers
David Kidman August 2010
The first and second instalments of BGO’s Bromberg remastered-reissue programme – comprising all four of his Columbia albums fitted onto three CDs – give us plenty to think about. Like pondering why this musician’s musician, acoustic guitarist par excellence, newgrass pioneer (before the term was even invented) and master of all manner of musical styles (not to mention noted musicologist) should have eluded mainstream or at least wider acceptance beyond the session-man “hired gun” ambit … one of musical life’s many mysteries.
It could be, of course, that the guy’s always been simply too eclectic for his own good! Certainly, even audiences of the early 1970s – when the first couple of albums were released – would have been polarised to a certain extent, and although Ry Cooder, his closest parallel (in terms of musical eclecticism), gained a good measure of punter-cred towards the middle of the decade, Bromberg never seemed to reap the expected accolades although his early adventures gained him a devoted, if small cult following. And that despite an unscheduled appearance at the 1970 Isle Of Wight Festival, one that should have seen his star rise rapidly.
His wildly divergent eponymous album of 1971(a difficult year for music!) started out and finished off deep in sensitive singer-songwriter territory (Last Song For Shelby Jean and Sammy’s Song), but in between took a no-turning-back journey into the soul of the blues in its many guises with intermittent stopovers at celtic and old-time instrumental (The Boggy Road To Milledgeville) and eccentric humour (The Holdup) along the way – not to mention its centrepiece, a leisurely conversational seven-minute ramble through Dehlia. The album was mostly Bromberg and his guitar, “a studio album intended to give live ambience”, but some tracks featured backing musicians drawn from the cream of contemporary roots and psych players including Norman Blake, Vassar Clements, Jody Stecher, David Nichtern, John Hartford, David Amrans and Steve Burgh. It was a wayward and almost wilfully diverse selection, and even by today’s accepting standards it doesn’t quite hang together – but it certainly contains some amazing playing.
As does 1972’s Demon In Disguise, all but two tracks of which was recorded before a real audience and had more of a collaborative feel with the presence of extra musicians, with the aforementioned (with the exception of Norman Blake) joined variously by Messrs. Garcia, Lesh, Kreutzmann and the Godchaux from the Dead lineup of the day, as well as Andy Statman, Ken Kosek and Tracy Nelson. The selection of material was even more eclectic, with five of Bromberg’s own compositions complemented by versions of the standards Tennessee Waltz and Mr. Bojangles, together with Tut Taylor’s gleeful tune snippet Sugar In The Gourd and a spiritful medley of Irish fiddle tunes; there was also more of a rounded band sound to the proceedings. But the album wasn’t released in the UK at all; this may have been part of the reason why it was all of two years before Columbia released another Bromberg album. But then it also probably wasn’t – for the timing of Bromberg’s brand of adventurous and mildly eccentric eclecticism (a word that was yet to be coined, after all) was way out of kilter with either the staleness of old-school pop and mundane country or the oncoming thrust of punk or new-wave.
So the fact that Wanted Dead Or Alive was released at all was something of a miracle. It was a bit of a curio nonetheless, especially since it somewhat pointlessly kicked off with The Holdup, the slightly zany George Harrison co-write which had already appeared on Bromberg’s 1971 debut. Otherwise, eclecticism ruled the day, with a broadly similar mix to the first two albums that included more originals including the typically laconic, extended slow-drag twelve-bar (Someone Else’s Blues), alongside a smattering of covers. These included Kansas City, Dylan’s maddeningly simple country-waltzer Wallflower (at the time only heard on a bootleg or a Doug Sahm Band LP), Statesboro’ Blues (here creatively medley-ised with Church Bell Blues) and a swaggering Dixieland-style take on an old Bessie Smith number Send Me To The ’lectric Chair. The Dead constituent of the guest-list remained in situ, augmented by Peter Ecklund, John Payne, Jay Ungar and Neil Rossi inter alia.
But for the followup album, 1975’s Midnight On The Water, Bromberg gathered together what amounted to an almost entirely different backing band, which this time relied heavily on the contributions of Dr. John (Mac Rebennack) and the production skills of Bernie Leadon and Brian Ahern, with cameo appearances by such as Linda Ronstadt, Emmylou Harris, Bonnie Raitt, Ricky Skaggs, Doyle Lawson and Buddy Cage; only Jay Ungar, Steve Mosley and Peter Ecklund were common to both records. This time the covers reached further back into doo-wop and R&B history (hits from Sam Cooke and the Fleetwoods) as well as unearthing then-obscure material like David Blue’s I Like To Sleep Late In The Morning and Clifford Gibson’s Don’t Put That Thing On Me – all valid grist to Bromberg’s mill and thoroughly typical of his enterprise in terms of choice. One album highlight, though, the Yankee’s Revenge tune-medley, featured no fewer than three fiddlers (Bromberg, Ungar and Dick Fegy)! After Midnight On The Water, Bromberg was signed to Fantasy and enjoyed a measure of commercial success – but that’s another story… All the above reissues come with excellent booklet notes, personnel credits and occasionally lyrics too, so can be recommended.
David Kidman August 2010
This wonderful and typically top-grade lavish package contains within its robust hardcover book-sleeve three well-filled CDs (containing 81 tracks in total), each in its own sturdy inner sleeve with individual booklet of between 24 and 36 pages. It chronicles the ultra-influential New Lost City Ramblers, who pioneered the revival of what became known as Southern mountain music, largely through their own recordings made between 1958 and 1973 but also setting some of their key performances alongside their own field recordings of the traditional southern musicians who directly inspired them. The first two discs are reissues of previously released compilations of classic NLCR recordings, themselves surely ripe for reassessment and investigation by a new generation of old-time enthusiasts.
Disc One, subtitled The Early Years 1958-1962, brings us 26 tracks sourced from the 12 albums made by the original NLCR lineup (Mike Seeger, John Cohen and Tom Paley) during those five years. The tip of that particular iceberg, sure, but a well-balanced selection that could easily have been expanded to a second disc with no concession to quality. The balance is fair and sure, although it leads to some almost wilful juxtapositions, leaping about energetically from country-jazz tunes (Colored Aristocracy, Dallas Rag), exuberant revelry (Crow Black Chicken) and nonsense or hillbilly songs (Hopalong Peter) to outright comic songs (The Battleship Of Maine) and archaic balladry (The Old Fish Song), interspersed with Carter family staples (No Depression) and more thought-provoking fare (How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times And Live?), with the occasional curveball in the shape of a lovers' lament (I Truly Understand You Love Another Man). Only some of the more serious material sounds at all dated, and then only in the sense that the performances are a touch tentative, even straight-laced perhaps, compared with the more assured renditions we're accustomed to hearing nowadays. But the musicians' complete mastery of so many different country styles is astounding (and not just for their time), and theirs can be considered definitive performances, a benchmark for all future interpretations not only in the scope and nature of the performances themselves but also in the depth and intensiveness of their research into their sources. They made serious study, but it was also fun, and an inspiration to so many.
Disc Two finds Tom Paley replaced by Tracy Schwarz, and more use of banjo by both Mike and John in order to further enhance their musical adaptability within the trio framework. This disc contains 27 tracks sourced from the group's seven albums recorded between 1963 and 1973, blessed with a slightly less Spartan recorded sound generally but also even more assured in terms of group chemistry and skilled interplay between parts. The tracklist includes less of the acknowledged repertoire staples perhaps, but the music is no less fine and we can still marvel at the variety of expression as well as the variety of material the three were continually unearthing in their researches. In the Ramblers' set-lists, arcane minstrelsy like Old Johnny Bucker Wouldn't Do is placed unashamedly next to the lonesome magic of I've Always Been A Rambler and classic hillbilly blues (Riding On That Train 45), with odd but rewarding interludes like Tracy's delicately decorated unaccompanied rendition of Shut Up In The Mines Of Coal Creek and the intense, haunting Tommy Jarrell tune John Brown's Dream with its intriguing tunings and dulcimer drone. The disc also includes a pair of landmark early folk revival performances of cajun standards (Parlez-nous À Boire, Valse Du Bambocheur), and a rousing Old Joe Bone, termed by John Cohen himself "an exercise in improvisation within the limits of great consistency and madness"! Oh, and hands up ISB devotees who recognise the melody of Cowboy Waltz (here attributed to an assemblage by Woody Guthrie no less)! Yes, the NLCR really were, as the disc's punning subtitle states, "Out Standing In Their Field".
Finally to Disc Three, which presents in celebration of the group's 50th anniversary, a newly-compiled further selection of a dozen classic NLCR performances placed in telling juxtaposition with field recordings from three decades by representative artists who formed the group's particular inspirations. The latter, some of whom had been showcased by the Ramblers on their tour dates, here include Clarence Ashley, Dock Boggs, Roscoe Holcomb, the Rev. Gary Davis, Elizabeth Cotton, cousins Sara & Maybelle Carter, Dillard Chandler, Eck Robertson, Dewey Balfa and Crockett Ward, with modern-day exponents Sue Draheim and the New Tranquility String Band (recorded in 1970) the most recent of the selections. They range from fiddle and banjo tunes to a swinging string band side and a raggy autoharp solo, unaccompanied balladry and mountain music to gospel blues. Several of these tracks have been taken from existing Folkways anthologies, but it's instructive to compare and contrast and good to have them all together in one coherent package that points to the work and achievements of the Ramblers.
A fabulous and great-value set, one that should be in every home in a fully accessible place on the shelves.
David Kidman August 2010
Renegade Creation brings together four diverse musicians and moulds them into a fusion of blues, rock and soul. The two headliners are Landau and Ford, the former a renowned session guitarist with credits on albums by Miles Davis, Michael Jackson and James Taylor, the latter being the legendary guitarist who has played alongside George Harrison and Greg Allman. Haslip and Novak are not un-notable however and have played with Bruce Hornsby, Donald Fagen, Chick Corea and Alanis Morissette.
The opener, What's Up, is a Mark Knopfler influenced rhythmic blues with Landau's laconic vocal and the twin guitarists on top form. The follow up, Soft In Black Jeans, is more of a Robert Cray style smooth blues/rock and Robben takes on the vocal with aplomb. Destiny Over Me is slow, dreamy rock and is counterbalanced by the strong blues rock of God And Rock 'N' Roll. Landau and Ford let rip on their guitars on the latter with riffs aplenty, all ably backed by strong drumming of Novak. The Darkness is a classy slow blues with signature big guitar breaks from Ford.
Renegade Destruction is a driving rocker with Landau on from as vocalist. This is followed by Peace, which is split into two parts, the intro and the main song. The intro seems a bit pointless with trains, waves and birds in the background. The main track is a guitar instrumental that, whilst well played, is not a strong addition to the album. Who Do You Think You Are is a down and dirty blues with fluid guitar, perhaps the best playing so far. The penultimate track, Where The Wind Blows, is a grinding blues rocker, held together by the rhythm section but it is Robben's guitar work that shines through. They finish off with Brothers, an instrumental that allows all four to showcase their skills.
David Blue August 2010
A founding member of The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Elvin Bishop has been around long enough to be called a legend. Not that passage of time is the only qualification; Elvin Bishop is a true guitar great. This only his second release on Delta Groove Music (see my review of his first, The Blues Rolls On) but he has firmly established himself at home. The eponymous title track is a laid back blues about his 1959 (a great year) Gibson Cherry Red ES-345. Stinging slide guitar and barrelhouse piano makes for a great opener. Neighbor Neighbor is R&B, vocally excellent and that slide is sublime. Fat & Sassy does what it says on the tin and Barbeque Boogie is the kind of storming boogie where Bishop excels. Many Rivers To Cross is a strange inclusion. It's hard to beat the Jimmy Cliff version but the inclusion of slide guitar is effective. However, I'd rather he hadn't really bothered.
Blues Cruise has a Cajun feel, no surprise since it has the addition of Buckwheat Zydeco on accordion. The extra guitarists, such as Roy Gaines, Tommy Castro and Ronnie Baker Brooks make this, in effect, a jam session and a damn good one too. Doo-Wop Medley is mainly the classic Still Of The Night but I can't make out where the medley comes in although this instrumental is well played on slide guitar. We get back to Elvin Bishop territory with Get Your Hand Out Of My Pocket, which is a good romp with boogie piano and rocking harmonica from Bob Welch and John Nemeth respectively. His Eye Is On The Sparrow is a strange title but this strolling blues instrumental with added horns is more than passable. The solo, Clean Livin' has a spoken vocal and tells us all about what has happened to him health wise throughout his life and he wonders why he is still standing – a cautionary tale. Festivities are rounded off well with the laconic Midnight Hour Blues.
David Blue September 2010
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