A to Z Album and Gig Reviews
La Boum!'s first CD Global Warming came out around five years ago, and was a tasty, if at times under-characterised melange of African, Latin, Caribbean and Celtic folk that promised much for its followup. Marionette has been a long time in coming, but by and large has proved worth the wait, boosted no doubt for many by memories of some by all accounts amazing live gigs. If you've not come across La Boum! Yet, you need to be aware of the lineup, which features, alongside Ben Ivitsky (who you'll know from the Eliza Carthy Band), a bit of a who's-who of Scottish folk and fusion - Donald Hay on drums, Tom Salter on lead guitar and vocals, Micky Marr on bass, the "Wee Frees" (Poozie Mary Macmaster, Heather Macleod and Sarah Campbell), and the mini-brass section of Greg Ivitsky and Doug Duncan. Impressive or what?… The overall sound probably owes more to African and Caribbean grooves than folk, and when it really gels, as on Power and Believe, the effect is very stimulating indeed. I particularly liked the mix of harp and guitar sparking each other off kora-style on Power. I'll admit I found the first couple of tracks, which lean more heavily on Latin rhythms and colours, the least satisfactory, with a striving for a "bigger" dancefloor sound that works against the delicacy of the special La Boum blend of fusion. Thereafter, the return to Latin influences for the penultimate track The Sound Of Leaving is far more convincing, and overall I find it's an infectiously upbeat, deliciously rousing album. Even the more pop-conscious Falling gets the balance about right without sinking into sleaze. The mix of Malian and Zimbabwean (and even a bit of Senegalese) styles in the guitar inflections, jazzy horns and steamy percussive elements is compelling, and Tom's vocal work is strongly characterised throughout. In the closing Bamako Tom pays homage to the Malian capital and evokes memories of the late-80s Super Rail Band. Violin and tabla players (sourced from the band Mrigiya) bring an enticing eastern flavour to Home, and backing vocals from Lindsey Black, Lynne O'Neill and Eliza Carthy herself add further distinction to two of the tracks. There's also some superb guest percussion from Peatbog Faeries' Iain Copeland. In all, this album proves rather more than the sum of its parts - or a selective play of some of its tracks – might otherwise indicate; it's also a grower, with elements of creative interplay revealing even more on careful listening.
David Kidman
The frighteningly prolific Mr. Brozman, genre-defying guitarist and veteran of countless collaborations with artists as diverse as Mike Auldridge, Ledward Kaapana, David Grisman and Djeli Moussa Diawara (to name but four), here teams up with Réunion Island master accordionist René for a surprisingly varied menu of pieces. Whatever culture Bob decides to explore, you just know the results will be enterprising and enchanting, and this disc proves no exception, but I still think it's one of my favourites after four months of listening. The infectious rhythms of the indigenous Réunion grooves are intriguing - they owe as much to African as to French (predominantly Creole) influences, and swing with a joyfully laid-back spontaneity that you might think deceptive. The island's location, along the trade routes between Asia and Africa, allowed for the development of a rich mix of cultures, which may explain the more than occasional Arab inflections in the music. Bob's slide guitar - that distinctive, typically vibrant blend of Hawaiian and Mississippi Delta - weaves in and out of the shuffling rhythmic textures most delightfully, while René himself brings his spicy, unpretentiously expert accordion and cool, deep and somehow insouciant vocals to the mix, also occasionally picking up the (Bolivian) charango to strum. Some additional percussionists are drafted in on a handful of tracks, enhancing the already enticing crosscurrents of rhythmic possibilities. Reflecting the volcanic nature of the island itself but in a benign way, the music of Digdig erupts with a fiery vigour that's most stimulating.
David Kidman
After a two-year hiatus, Jimmy LaFave is back and in great form with Cimarron Manifesto.
There are moments when LaFave cuts out the middle man and speaks directly to the heart of the listener. His interpretation of Donovan's Catch The Wind is a moment of absolute beauty, an always elusive song is further intensified by LaFavre's sense of desolation. It's as if LaFave, confronted by a personal wasteland, is giving voice to the hopelessness that lies within his soul.
On Cimarron Manifesto Jimmy LaFave has stripped the flesh from the likes of Lucky Man, all that is left is the core of the song, with LaFave's voice cutting through like a surgeon's scalpel.
Although Jimmy LaFave is a supremely gifted country rock musician, That's The Way It Goes would fill the floor of even the harshest Texas barroom, it is left in the shade by the stark simplicity of Not Dark Yet. When challenged to bare his emotions, however raw, LaFave blossoms, Not Dark Yet is one of those all too rare moments when a song stops you in its tracks.
But LaFave is equally adept at loosening the emotional strings, Walk A Mile In My Shoes is an easy flowing piece of country magic.
With Cimarron Manifesto, Jimmy LaFave has produced an album that, no matter what it is you're looking for in music, you'll find it. He'll break your heart one minute only to lift your spirits the next. It's easy to lose yourself in Cimarron Manifesto, it's a damn sight harder to tear yourself away.
Michael Mee July 2007
David Kidman
Robin's always been keen on whisky (and the fact that he chairs the tasting panel of the prestigious Scottish Malt Whisky Society is surely fortuitous!)… So far he's recorded two themed albums (1997's The Angel's Share and 2004's The Water Of Life), halfway between which he published a book of songs and poems on the subject (The Whisky Muse), which is soon to be followed by a second book (The Whisky River) dealing exclusively with the distilleries of Speyside. One For The Road is album number 3 in Robin's musical "whisky trilogy", then, and its 14 songs place whisky firmly in the context of present-day society while respecting and acknowledging its place in tradition. This new batch of songs tends to clothe Robin's trademark soft-toned, smoothly expressive vocal in settings that seem to embody a more transatlantic feel than hitherto perhaps, many complementing Robin's indigenous Scottish identity with distinct stylistic nods in the direction of country, whether it be rockin' (Bottle Of Gin), Kentucky (Heaven Hill), Americana (Elijah Craig) or mainstream (Everything I Love). And moreover, the transatlantic feel also noticeably extends to the album's approach to instrumentation, which is often quite full-sounding (sax, electric and pedal steel guitars, piano, rhythm section). Just over half of the songs are Robin's own compositions, and these either take the form of bittersweet reflections or else delicious humorous ditties replete with typically puckish wordplay. Among Robin's own songs, I specially enjoyed the historical tale of Uisquebaugh Baul, the tasty Speyside Whisky Song and the reflective Reaching Home (though I felt the latter would have sounded even better backed by guitar rather than keyboard). Standouts among the covers are Robin's particularly sensitive treatments of Karine Polwart's moving The Sun's Coming Over The Hill and Amy Allison's The Whisky Makes You Sweeter (complete with some gorgeous backing vocals), while his choice of Simon Haworth's Rory's Still is a canny one indeed (like me, Robin had first encountered the song through the lovely singing of Rachel Crackett at Mickleby Folk Club), and Tegwen Roberts' mellow yet perceptive Full Moon Whisky forms a fine closer to the album. All song lyrics are available on Robin's website, by the way. Happily, Robin's source of fine whisky-derived songs shows no sign of running dry – and dare I venture to suggest there's "still" (sic) plenty of material out there?!
David Kidman July 2007
Robin Laing - Ebb And Flow (Whistleberry)
Robin's sixth album (and his first not for Greentrax) kickstarts this new Songwriters' Cooperative record label in fine style, and - appropriately given the label's implied mission statement – is the first so far to consist entirely of Robin's own compositions. The 14 quality songs range typically widely in subject-matter, from historical (The Covenanter's Grave, Jamie Penman) to romantic love (I Believe In You), a joyous celebration of the birth of his daughter Maisie (Born In The Blossom Time) to a story of vampirism (The Bloofer Lady). There's also an allegorical look at the essence of islands and how we all feel drawn to them (Islands). Robin also provides a thread of continuity with his earlier work in presenting the fourth of his continuing series of songs about Ulysses (The Lotus Eaters), which proves a definite highlight of this CD. But at least five or six of these new songs come up there with Robin's best, and there's no weak track, so the whole CD is a persuasive portrait of his developing and maturing craft. Perhaps the only thing missing from this new collection is an example of Robin's puckish sense of fun, one of those wittily humorous ditties he excels in (Black Coffee comes closest here, and almost compensates for the lack of a whisky-derived opus on this occasion!). Ebb And Flow is actually a deceptively laid-back album, belying the intellectual depth of its contents, but the gentle power of Robin's voice (and guitar) perfectly matched by the cleverly-judged musical arrangements of producer Davie Scott (this is his third album collaboration with Robin in fact), which though generally quite uncluttered, are richer than you might expect, with especially imaginative use of keyboards to evoke or reproduce specific instrumental timbres (French horn, harpsichord, cello, sitar, etc.). I'd be lying, though, if I didn't honestly admit that there are times when I yearned to hear some of these new songs in a simpler garb, for however attractive these studio settings may be there's an element (albeit quite minor) of artificiality or obfuscation for which the only antidote is to go and see Robin perform the material live and solo for maximum immediacy and intimacy - well, I feel sure this is Robin's intention! But I'd stress that this latter observation is very much relative, and only significant in relation to my own having followed Robin's developing career over the years since Edinburgh Skyline days and having been fortunate enough to see him perform live on many occasions. Helpfully, too, the CD presentation is excellent; the accompanying booklet reproduces all song texts, and Robin's website gives several pages of fascinating detail of the stories behind the songs. All in all, this is definitely another fine and delicately satisfying album from Robin.
David Kidman
David Kidman
Seth's second album, Kitty Jay, was nominated for the Mercury Prize, yet at the time of its nomination last summer Seth was already completing work on Freedom Fields, a brand new batch of original songs taking its collective name from a 1643 uprising that changed the course of English history, whereat the King's Cavaliers were routed by the Plymouth garrison of Roundheads. This gives a clue to the tone of the album, which exudes a proud and typically keen sense of both history and folk tradition. Although it's once again inspired by Seth's native West Country, whereas Kitty Jay had primarily explored the area's legends Freedom Fields deals instead with the area's turmoil in conflict of various kinds, principally in the arenas of war and freedom. Two of its songs (King And Country and the title track) directly examine the factions created by the English Civil War, whereas others are concerned with naval traditions (Lady Of The Sea), the morals and myths of hunting (The White Hare, Childe The Hunter) and the oppression of miners (The Colliers). Once again, Seth's songs are haunting, memorable and in every way noteworthy; they're invariably characterised by a bright and refreshing mode of delivery - sharply etched, forthright and replete with a youthful energy (more than once was I reminded of Show Of Hands in Seth's winning combination of passionate, aware lyrics and accessible musical settings clothed in real instrumental expertise). The driving contemporary-folk-acoustic idiom is both urgently compelling and commercially valid, and the playing and singing (Seth himself on tenor guitar and violin, with brother Sean on guitars, Ben Nicholls on basses and banjo, Cormac Byrne on percussion and Benji Kirkpatrick on bouzouki, with Seth's passionate vocals boosted by - among others - Kathryn Roberts, Steve Knightley, Cara Dillon and John Jones). Strength of purpose and increasingly confident expression prove hallmarks of this impressive disc, in which Seth proves his skill as a songwriter in skilfully applying the experiences of history to universal truths about the human condition, all conveyed in brilliantly immediate performances of the resulting songs.
David Kidman
Seth, one of the three talented Lakeman brothers, was until 2001 a key member of young folk supergroup Equation, since when he's been an equally key element among the backing musicians for award-winning singer Cara Dillon. Just a couple of years ago, Seth came into his own with a highly-regarded solo album The Punchbowl, to which Kitty Jay proves an awesome followup. It's a concept album of sorts in that its 11 cuts are all inspired by the legend-filled wilderness of Dartmoor where Seth grew up and to which he's returned to live. Seven of the tracks are Seth's own compositions, the remainder being his own arrangements of traditional material. Probably the first thing you notice about the album is the recording's strong, direct and likeably upfront sound quality, giving a strikingly immediate sense of open space and scale which in its own way correlates with a similar quality in the landscape in which the tales are set. These haunting, often mysterious tales are told with an unbridled energy, a stark passion and an extreme clarity of expression, and the impact is exciting indeed. Seth's own singing is complemented on occasions by that of Kathryn Roberts, and instrumentally Seth's superbly forthright and characterful violin and viola work is given further weight by the rich instrumental contributions of brother Sean (guitar, mandolin - and he produced the album too, by the way!), Ben Nigholls (bass), Iain Goodall (drums), Benji Kirkpatrick (bouzouki) and Harper Simon (12-string guitar); suitably rich and intense when needed, yes, but never clogging the texture. The original songs possess a real sense or urgency that mirrors their instrumental treatment. They mine that creative seam of the folk-influenced and tradition/legend-inspired, and spotlight Seth's (by many hitherto unsuspected) talent for songwriting; in Seth's own words, Kitty Jay is an album "coming from folk but saying something a little new". The title track is typical of Seth's approach, in that its dark, brooding tale has more layers than are first apparent. Ostensibly it recounts the legend of a servant girl who is believed to have got pregnant and hanged herself in a barn; because suicides were never buried in consecrated ground, she was laid to rest at a crossroads near Hounds Tor, where to this day, fresh flowers are mysteriously ever-present on the grave. Various other local legends make for equally vital storytelling in music here, and tellingly depict extremes of emotion and endeavour - from the stirring maritime tales of Henry Clark and The Storm to the deeply felt Farewell My Love (a miniature masterpiece, inexplicably omitted from the liner note listings) through to Blood And Copper which deals with the experiences of men working in the copper mines - and the album's completed by a wonderfully atmospheric slow air (Cape Clear) recorded on location in a church. Interestingly too, the album was recently launched at a gig inside Dartmoor Jail - certainly its music takes no prisoners, for it just can't fail to impress. For me, its one and only disadvantage is that the entire CD's all over in a mere 36 minutes.
David Kidman
Lambchop - Aw c'mon/No you c'mon (City Slang)
Well, who's been a busy lad then. Setting out to write a song a day, Kurt Wagner ended up with sufficiently enough passing the quality control test to make a double album. Well, two albums rather than strictly a double, each featuring 12 songs though with no real stylistic divide between them, though Wagner describes the former as a flowing experience while the latter's more stand alone songs. Well, if he says so.
Back with the full sprawling line up of the halcyon days of Nixon, strings included, it's a welcome reminder of how lush they can be, even at their most miserable, after the stripped back intimate intensity of Is A Woman.
Aw opens on a plush orchestral instrumental, Being Tyler, a nod to the band's principal guitarist, and it's not the only time the vocals take a rest; The Lone Official is a vaguely Occidental n jazz tune while Timothy B Schmidt, named after the Eagles bassist, is a self-effacing little loungey shuffle that may or may not, like the instrumentals elsewhere, be taken from the score he was commissioned to write for a reissue of the 1927 silent Murnau romance, Sunrise.
Schmidt's not the only titular name check either, earlier on Steve McQueen lends his moniker to a dreamy Wagner soulful ballad that curiously calls to mind Dylan's Lay Lady Lay. As you'd imagine, it's business as usual in terms of spooked, whispered tales of losers, wrecked lovers and haunted memories as they rack up the likes of Nothing But A Blur From A Bullet Train, Each Time I Bring It Up It Seems To Bring You Down and, as the blue smoke curls up in wisps, the ironic piano bar crooner Women Help To Create The Kind of Men They Despise. The first disc ends on Action Figure, a nice hint of self-mockery finding Wagner saying he's heard a rumour that he's sad before continuing to sound like someone who's never known a moment's joy in his entire life.
Good news then that NoYou opens in perky summery mood with another instrumental, the title tune from Sunrise, but the mood doesn't last long as, come the next track, Low Ambition, he sounds like he's about to burst into tears, a mood continued into There Is Still Time, a come down open space ballad that suggests there's a Jimmy Webb fan somewhere inside Wagner's heart. And then it all goes up in the air as the mockingly titled Nothing Adventurous Please finds the band positively rocking out in a vaguely Krautrockabilly boogie woogie fest. And if that doesn't knock you, back no sooner have you recovered by listening to the lilting lullaby The Problem than Shang A Dang Dang gets up on its feet and dances around the floor in a bubblegum stylee with Wagner simply mumbling the title in a huh huh sort of way. It's jaunty still for About My Lighter, pretty much Lambchop's equivalent of Punky's Dilemma while the Jan 24 instrumental could be a sample of Michael Nyman having a knees up and The Gusher catches you offguard with a friendly samba that harbours lines about scraping the skin with a razor and damp stains on jeans and a lurking guitar threat riff. It also includes arguably the best cut of the 24 in Under A Dream Of A Lie, a smoky soul jazz ballad that once again reminds you where Curtis Mayfield's spirit has chosen to spend its afterlife. C'mon everybody.
Mike Davies
Ever heard of folk rockers Schrodingers Cat or experimental ambient house outfit Shen? No, me neither. Not that it matters, They're part of Lambert's past, whereas the present for this Devon based singer-songwriter is firmly rooted in darkling acoustic folk, as brooding, wild and earthy as the Dartmoor landscapes where it was recorded. Accompanying Lambert's spare guitar and cracked leather and dark loam vocals, wife Isabel provides harmonium and piano, Ian Ritchie the saxophones with Kathleen Willison on violin and backing vocals alongside Natalie Williams. The result may not conjure the recent work of Scott Walker as the blurb suggests, but you'll definitely hear the influences of Roger Waters solo albums and, as Lambert acknowledges, Springsteen's The Ghost of Tom Joad. The sax soaked City Skies suggests he's a fan of Cohen too. In which case Williams and Willison are his Jennifer Warnes. Or, on the harmonium droned Lost Sight of the Way, perhaps the McGarrigles.
Refective themes of loss and change are sketched with an eye for natural imagery (birds, winds, leaves) and the seasons (the music more autumnal or rimmed with frost than the rays of spring and summer) as Lambert talks his way through the numbers.
Actually, with several of them clocking past the six minute mark they tend to be more about the musical accompaniment mood settings than the vocals, more tone poems than songs. As such, while not New Age, they work best when played in tranquillity, the likes of Swallows or The Winter Of 95 offering a sense of spiritual balm; albeit one stained with nicotine and the fumes of roasted barley. I know nothing of Lambert's past, but I'm definitely keeping an eye on his future.
www.goneaway.johnhenrylambert.com
www.myspace.com/johnhenrylambert
Mike Davies April 2008
Another discovery - we learn that Kerosene hit the Number One country record spot in the US in late March, but it's taken a while for the record to filter through to me, and it was finally released here in the UK only last month. Miranda's another blond babe with ripped jeans, Willie Nelson T-shirt and a Gibson geetar, pictured sittin' at the wheel of a truck - looking even younger than her years no doubt but with a hell of a voice that belies that youth. A larynx that she wraps round a debut album that persuasively mixes honky-tonk, jangly country-pop, feisty country rock and Sheryl Crow-inspired ballads, all but one of which she wrote herself. The wealth of experience conveyed in her lyrics is impressive, if occasionally a tad glibly expressed (she can't always entirely avoid speaking in clichés), but Miranda's obviously an ace songwriter in the making who just needs to live life a bit more herself. Ending the album on a song of thoughtful reflection (Love Your Memory) was a brave move too, but it works. As a singer, Miranda's Texan roots are self-evident, and there are times when her forthright phrasing and boldly seductive timbre remind me strongly of Dolly Parton (especially on cuts like Mama I'm Alright), but she's also been favourably compared to Gretchen Wilson and Natalie Maines. Whatever, her voice is strong and attractively spunky yet capable of soaring tenderness too (as on Bring Me Down, Greyhound Bound For Nowhere and the anthemic There's A Wall), even if it tends to lack the last ounce of ballsy grit that would make her a great singer. It helps of course, though, that Miranda's backed by a solid crew (Richard Bennett, Glenn Worf, Randy Scruggs, Joey Huffman, Jay Joyce, Chad Cromwell, Hank Singer et al.) and co-producers Frank Liddell and Mike Wrucke clearly have their finger on the commercial pulse (although a few unnecessary bits of vocal treatment and effects are allowed to get in the way on occasion). Even so, this album will do very nicely for now, and not only to showcase Miranda's vocal skills. There's no escaping that it's a pretty dazzling debut that augurs well for the future.
David Kidman
2006 proved quite a turning point for the reclusive, heavily bearded New Hampshire singer-songwriter. After languishing in UK stores for over a year, with a re-release via a new label suddenly his debut album Trouble became one of the essential acquisitions, turning him a belated overnight sensation.
Unfortunately, while not wishing to look gift horses in the mouth, it did mean that the release of his follow-up, already out in America, had to be delayed. However, it's finally surfaced and should comfortably prove that he's here for the long run.
It's not, though, Trouble Mark II. A somewhat lyrically darker affair, there's also a emphasis heavier on the bluesier, more Memphis soul end of his R&B influences to both Three More Days and the jazzy You Can Bring Me Flowers.
Then again the string arrangements, husky mood and warm muted brass that variously colour the hushed Empty, Can I Stay, Gone Away From Me with its plinketty ukulele and the title track conjure nothing less than the foggy sunshine and coaldust hung streets of the colliery towns of Northern England.
At times, it's almost as if Martin Stephenson was inhabiting the spirit of Ted Hawkins with Mark Knopfler's guitar (the instrumental Truly, Madly, Deeply reminiscent of his work on Local Hero), but with Lamontage's formerly grizzled voice now a soft, almost silken buttery wonder brushing over the heartaching lyrics.
He's called the album a song cycle about the nature of human relationships and communication, opening with Be Here Now's lengthy six minute gently rolling, at times almost musically ambient meditation on how easily we become distracted and fail to engage with others. The final track, the slow swaying, brass hued (and not a little Lennon-like) Within You, is, he offers, a lament for the lack of myth and wonder in contemporary American society. Elsewhere Empty considers elected emotional alienation while the wearied Lou Reed flecked lullaby Barfly finds the singer drowning in pointlessness and a desperate need for human contact.
Now if all that sounds a bit heavy and pretentious, be reassured that the songs and melodies are anything but. Rather they are lovely, burnished affairs, the spare acoustic Lesson Learned with its Spanish guitar and dark veined moods evocative of the great Don McLean or Harry Chapin while the fragile aching strings enfolded Can I Stay where he sings 'I've fallen sad inside and I need a place to hide' could be a close relative of Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars. On this evidence, Lamontagne's solar flares are set to burn bright for a long while yet.
www.raylamontagne.com
www.myspace.com/raylamontagne
Mike Davies January 2007
Ray Lamontagne - Trouble (Echo)
While the sandpapery voiced New Hampshire born singer-songwriter may have spent a rootless childhood moving from pillar to post, or indeed chicken coop, he obviously managed to keep his record collection with him, the influences seeping into his blood like mother's milk. They surface now on his debut album, Trouble (Echo), where you can easily trace the work of Van Morrison (Trouble), Dylan (Hannah), Ted Hawkins (Hold You In My Arms), Otis Redding (Shelter), Stephen Stills (How Come, Forever My Friend), Loudon Wainwright (Burn), and Neil Young (Narrow Escape) veining his blue eyes soul n roots songs of love's healing, heartache and human concern.
Arranged for acoustic guitar with the staple added ingredients of piano, handclaps, percussion, cello and any number of violin players, its intimate, dustily world weary Americana blessed with a lived in voice that could make rocks weep. If you're want quick comparisons, then David Gray and Damien Rice would probably be convenient reference points, but even they would be hard pressed to approach the trembling emotion and stark beauty at the heart of Narrow Escape, the bruised and shaken love of Jolene or the aching lullaby that is All The Wild Horses. To paraphrase Elvis, if you're looking for the right place, then Trouble is where you should come.
Mike Davies
As you might guess from the name and the fact there's members called Dickie Ticker and Willie Eckerslike (on drums, melodica, HTML & Java debugging), this is a bit of a comedy circuit novelty act. Not normally the sort of thing I'd review for this site, but every now and then it's hard to resist something that produces such a big grin. Forget being serious for a moment and have a giggle.
Between the tongue in cheek Lancashire misogyny I Met A Girl On MySpace and the stereotype send ups Chippy Tea and Bitter Lager Cider Ale Stout, they clearly have their pop culture and tech radar well tuned.
There's songs about Firewalls, EBay, Sat Nav, PC World, PSPs, t'Internet, Blue Tooth and (to a tune akin to Matchstick Cats and Dogs) the advantages of Dolby 5.1 while the infuriatingly catchy He's Turned Emo with its singalong choru snamechecks Jimmy Eat World, Bullet For My Valentine and Fall Out Boy.
Given Radio 2 play and a few bevvies, it could easily give them a hit, as too could A Lancashire DJ which, reworks the tune of Belle of Belfast City with a chorus hook of 'I'm a DJ and I'll make you dance with a little bit of techno, a little bit of trance..two turntables and a microphone I'll play some house for your auntie Joan'. There's a few dead spots when you might want to top up the glasses, but they're certainly a lot more cred than the Wurzles. Go on, dip yer bread in.
www.myspace.com/thelancashirehotpots
Mike Davies, Sept 2007
Mm, I really like this one - and against all expectations too. Landermason is a Northumberland-based duo comprising Fiona Lander and Paul Mason, who deftly inhabit the musical territory where according to their press handout "folk provides the theme and jazz determines the style". That's at once rather true and slightly misleading as it turns out, for it's likely that a pure jazz lover would find the music too folky and a folkie would find it too jazzy. Having said that, this is a really refreshing (if often quite soft-focus) record, the duo's third. It presents eleven original compositions by the duo (nine songs and two sprightly instrumentals) which make a virtue of melody but also of variety, the moods and colours ever changing through the heavenly length of the album (over 70 minutes including the lovely leave-the-disc-playing bonus track - In From The Desert? - that really doesn't deserve to be overlooked). There's also a setting of the famous cradle lullaby (here puzzlingly titled Sweep's Song), and even better, a linked sequence of swingingly imaginative arrangements of two traditional songs from the north-east (When The Boat Comes In and Dance To Your Daddy) on which the duo are joined by Peter Tickell on fiddle, Alice Roser on concertina and a veritable chorus of guest singers. Not that Fiona and Paul need extra singers elsewhere, for they're both blessed with truly excellent voices, attractive and clear when solo and abundantly harmonious when singing together. And their instrumental skills are legion too, with Paul's deft and supremely accomplished (and classically-influenced) nylon-strung guitar work the ideal foil for Fiona's finely judged whistles, saxes and piano contributions. Aside from the aforementioned guest musicians, the only augmentation they allow is when young sibling fiddlers Sarah and David Jones get to play on XYZ (the track that's named after the band they both used to be in - David's now with Last Orders of course!). The jazzy idiom comes into its own on The Mirror and Words Unsaid, while Please Yourself and Hero are possibly closest to contemporary folk - but it's the conjoining of the two strands (especially on Somalia, I Know There's A Reason and All Roads) that arguably provides the album's most beguiling moments. Having said that, and appealing though the album's early tracks are without doubt, Landermason really come into their own in the disc's second half, with the sequence from Please Yourself through All Roads to Somalia proving extremely satisfying. Landermason's music brings us one of those combinations of musical styles and influences that's often been tried but less often convinces; it's a tribute to their thoughtfulness, their craft and their intense degree of musicianship that it works so very well. A delightfully classy proficiency is the order of the day with Landermason, sure, but it's shot through both with an abundance of haunting, tuneful beauty and an emotional responsiveness that's not to be dismissed.
David Kidman August 2007
Sonny Landreth - Grant Street (Sugar Hill)
Recorded over two nights in Lafayette, Louisiana this is an 'as it happened' recording. Why you would want to do it any other way, when you can generate the animal excitement that Sonny Landreth does on stage beats me. There is a neatness to his recording live in the converted fruit warehouse on Grant Street because Landreth played with both the bands on the night it opened, Red Beans and Rice Revue and Clifton Chenier.
His career since then has seen him play on Jimmy Buffet's smash hit Licence To Chill, receive a Grammy nomination for The Road We're On and caused none other than Eric Clapton to say of him: 'He's probably the most underestimated musician on the planet and also probably one of the most advanced'. Believe me you'll not underestimate him after listening to Grant Street.
This is all bout catching the excitement and passion of white knuckle rock/blues. Landreth, in the company of David Ranson on bass and Kenneth Blevins on drums provides an hour blood, sweat and tears soaked blues culminating in the breathtaking 10-minute Congo Square.
But before you're left gasping for air by the finale, artist and audience are pushed to the physical limit by the likes of Blues Attack and U.S.S. Zydecoldsmobile. This is not an album for the faint hearted, turn it up and hold on tight.
Michael Mee
Sonny Landreth - The Road We Are On (Sugar Hill)
There are no compromises here as Sonny Landreth finally delivers the album that we've all been waiting for. This is straight rock/blues with no quarter given, the way it used to be played by Canned Heat and Johnny Winter and that warms the heart. For far too long we've suffered too many pretenders but Landreth has served his time, payed his dues and suffered the indignity of staring at Mark Knopler's arse all night. Fortunately for you and I his exasperation has been channelled, with a little help from R.S. Field, into an album that puts all the elements of his gob-smaking slide playing into an album that has no pretentions at all. Blues is the chosen format and Landreth is solid in this department.
You don't believe me? I guarantee that if you heard, The Promise Land (not The Promised land) or Natural World, (this should get the whole store dancing, teen movie style), whilst you were dallying through the nostalgia section at HMV, you would be over the counter, dosh in hand demanding a copy of The Road We're On. From achingly slow A World Away and True Blue through acoustic (National) Juke Box Mama to the unbridled power of Fallin' For You, we've got an album here that drips atmosphere like sweat off the walls of a Louisiana juke joint. No 'clever' songs, deviation or hesitation, Landreth's put his cards on the table and it looks like a full house.
cj holley
Hailing from Kentucky but now resident in New York, Landes holds down a day job as a recording engineer, in which capacity she's worked with the likes of Joseph Arthur, Ryan Adams and Hem. When not twiddling knobs, she's likely to be found plying her other trade as singer-songwriter in the Big Apple's clubs. She probably makes more money behind the desk than behind the microphone, but if there's any justice that should soon change.
Having already released little heard but much praised debut album Dawn's Music and the mini-album Two, Three, Four, she's now starting to generate a substantial buzz beyond Manhattan's city limits with this self-produced third offering (featuring assorted Hems and Earlies in her band) earning comparisons to such names as Beth Orton, Susanne Vega and Cat Power.
Deservedly so with its beguiling blending of folk, bluegrass, country, jazz and electronics and a voice that can be witchily seductive one moment (the opening spooked hush of Bodyguard, and the percussive brushed I Don't Need No Man) and as innocent as a lullaby (the backwoods trad folksy jog of Tired Of This Life) the next.
As the use of instruments like glockenspiel, what sounds like a dulcimer, her beloved pink accordion and, on Toy Piano, a, er, toy piano, she's clearly got a nimble musical imagination, lulling you into country reveries with a dreamy Twilight and the Be Good Tanyas feel of Dig Me A Hole but then digging into what sounds like Tom Waits influences for the scratchy loose-limbed boho jazz-folk Picture Show.
Misted with a soulful melancholia that sounds like it's distilled and bottled the very essence of a 3am heartbroken dance, it just gets better every time you listen, her hidden stripped back wistful acoustic version of Petty's I Won't Back Down waiting as a final tantalising treat. Sign up for the Dawn chorus now.
www.dawnlandes.com
www.myspace.com/dawnlandes
Mike Davies February 2008
Mark Lanegan - Bubblegum (Beggars Banquet)
The title's ironic of course. There's nothing chewy chewy here, the fourth solo album from the erstwhile Screaming Trees founder and sometime member of Queens of the Stone Age. Instead, with guests that include Izzy Stradlin, Greg Dulli, Dean Ween, Joshua Homme and PJ Harvey, his throat scouring gruff vocal bends itself around musical shapes that variously conjure thoughts of Tom Waits (the swampy Wedding Dress which also incorporates a direct reference to Lee Hazelwood's Jackson), Cohen (When You're Number Isn't Up), early Lou Reed (Hit The City), Captain Beefheart (the industrial clattering Methamphetamine Blues), the haunted desert night prowls of Giant Sand (One Hundred Days) and The Stooges (the ragged scratched Driving Death Valley Blues and hard on psychobilly punk assault Sideways in Reverse).
Lacerating rock n roll and electrosonic experimentalism (Head, Can't Come Down) go head to head with the bare ballad slow waltzing Strange Religion, the gospel rooted Morning Glory Wine, Come To Me's tinkling musical box spooked country and a rumbling blues Like Little Willie John. Stained with nicotine, harsh with whisky breath and with songs both worm eaten with despairing darkness and burning with gravelly hope, it's his finest hour yet.
Mike Davies
Former frontman of Seattle's Screaming Trees and currently to be found providing a helping live hand with Queens of the Stone Age, Lanegan's latest solo outing is more likely to see him lined up along the likes of Cohen, Cave. Mark Eitzel and The Walkabouts with its contemplative, melancholic, dark American Gothic moods. His is a deep dark mournful voice riding a ghost horse through a sun-baked dust desert full of songs of damnation, loss and redemption, imbuing them with a sense of aching beauty. The haunting One Way Street instantly sets the quality level, the atmospheric instrumental Blues For D with its delicate guitar work tracery underlines his ability on the six strings while the title track wouldn't sound out of place on Cave's Murder Ballads, it and the superlative Pill Hill Serenade likely to rank among the finest of the year.
Mike Davies
Australian Lang lists some of his influences as Skip James, Blind Willie Johnson, Jimi Hendrix and Ry Cooder. He's off to a good start, then. Whatever Makes You Happy is one of eleven albums by Lang and is the latest to be released in the UK. The opener, The Save, is Americana, Folk/Blues – describe it as you will. I will just say that it is fantastic. It also has a trowel listed as an instrument – certainly the first time that I have heard of this! Switchblade has some impressive National guitar work and he sets his standard here. Alive In There is plaintive and sedate and You Should Have Waited is Country Rock of a high standard – think Poco. Orange Roughie is a short electric riff and he adds Suzannah Espie, to great effect, as a vocal accompanist on By Face Not Name. The pair provides lovely harmonies and excellent Americana with the best guitar work so far. This is a top song. Next up is Rain On Troy, which has a calming effect and is one that I could listen to it all day.
The Day I Got Chewing Gum Stuck In My Hair is contemporary electric rock with the grateful addition of some brass and lap steel. Rejected Novelist Fails Again is another great title but the song is so short and probably pointless unless I'm completely missing the irony. You Tremble has gentle acoustic sounds and Sleeping is contemporary Indie acoustic. Slip Away has Lang back on lap steel and National guitar. This builds up into a very relaxed Alt. Country/Folk Rock with superb guitar work. The Road Is Not Your Only Friend is played at breakneck speed and is manic modern Folk but the eponymous title track calms things down completely and emphasises what a prodigious guitar player he is.
David Blue July 2007
In 23 years as a celebrated singer and songwriter, k. d. has steered an often perilous course through an often annoyingly diverse array of material, with rather unpredictable results; even among her fans, few have been able to honestly say they like everything she's produced. On Reintarnation, however, k. d. goes right back to her country roots, presenting a consistent collection that intermingles choice cuts from her landmark country-inflected "cowpunk" albums with fresh recordings of material from the outset of her professional recording career. Following on from a re-recording of k.d.'s first single, Friday Dance Promenade, come two songs from her first full album, 1984's A Truly Western Experience; then we get three tracks from k.d.'s 1987 major-label debut Angel With A Lariat, and one from Shadowland, her album of country standards. There's also three tracks taken from k.d.'s soundtrack to Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, and no less than seven from 1989's superbly-named Absolute Torch And Twang collection. Finally there's Changed My Mind, a previously-unreleased song that k.d. wrote with Ben Mink over 20 years ago. The Patsy Cline influence is strong all throughout Reintarnation, and you can't ever fault k.d. for her authoritative grasp of the stylings of her heroine or for her skills as a country vocalist. Curiously, after all this time k.d.'s early work sounds less radical than it appeared at the time, more orthodox, more mainstream even, than its "cowpunk" image; time does weird things to one's perspective, I know.
David Kidman, June 2006
k. d. lang - Hymns Of The 49th Parallel (Nonesuch)
It's impossible to argue with the choices made by k. d. lang for this tribute to the music of her native Canada. You'd have to be a bit barking to baulk at Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, Jane Siberry, Ron Sexsmith and Bruce Cockburn.
And I wouldn't read too much into the fact that Young, Mitchell, Siberry and Cohen get two songs while Cockburn and Sexsmith just the one. This album has the intimacy of personal choice and anyway, chuck in the, at least couple of dozen great Canadians that aren't featured and, hey presto, you have an ongoing series. Now that's what I CALL music.
For a musician who so epitomizes the spirit and attitude of today it is still quite surprising just how 'classic' lang's voice is. After The Goldrush, which opens the album, is softened around the edges and becomes quite eerie, a timeless classic whichever way it's done.
k. d. lang is undoubtedly one of the great 'interpreters' of a song and her collaborations with Tony Bennett and Roy Orbison show that her talent crosses the borders of both style and generation. Her version of Joni Mitchell's A Case Of You is full of heart while on The Valley she instinctively understands the power source of a song. Here it's a ballad but it could just as easily be anything else, it's the honesty and sincerity that are the telling factors.
It really should be no surprise that this is as good as it is. The combination of 11 great songs, their country origin is irrelevant, these are all truly great songs and one of THE voices of the modern age make this a potent mix.
But just listen to lang take Leonard Cohen's Bird On a Wire, she examines it from all angles and makes it something uniquely hers, it's a process to marvel over and a result to enjoy.
But even that is outdone by the other Cohen track that appears, Hallelujah becomes vast and hymnal it's the definition of the album's appeal.
Hymns Of The 49th Parallel may well have started out as a 'tribute' to her fellow Canadian musicians but it is also proof positive of the special talent that is k. d. lang
Michael Mee
Daniel Lanois - Shine (Anti, Inc)
Although he's contributed to and composed soundtracks (Million Dollar Hotel, Slingblade), it's been ten years since the Quebec born French-Canadian producer released his second album, For The Beauty of Wynona, since which time he's twiddled knobs on albums by names such as Willie Nelson, Ron Sexsmith, Emmylou Harris and regular clients U2 and Dylan. Finally though, he's managed to grab some studio time for himself, returning with another collection of tracks stamped with his trademark sense of atmospherics and wistful, yearningly melancholic vocals. He's also rediscovered his love for steel guitar, to which end Transmitter, one of several instrumentals here, is drenched with it to the extent of sounding not unlike a moody Wout Steinhuis. Elsewhere you'll find the ambient spookiness of Matador, electrobeat noodling on Space Key and the haunting spare, sadness drenched playout that is JJ Leaves LA.
But it's the vocal numbers that lovers of Acadie will want to know about, and perhaps reflecting the artists with whom he's worked, the places he's been, the musical mood embraces folk, blues, country and understated rock. I Love You opens proceedings with one of the album's two guest stars, Emmylou Harris lending her tones to the song's swampy everglades feel where electro owls hoot and drums clatter. Then it's Bono's turn on the co-penned Falling At Your Feet, a folk flavour of tinkling pop that calls to mind the Everlys. On then to the cascading As Tears Roll By with its rolling bassline, Lanois' high pitched breathy voice and gospel-blues colours. The blues are very much in evidence on Slow Giving, its slow acid laced balladry calling to mind Hendrix in general and Angel in particular, though it wouldn't be hard to argue for the influence of Bowie, Marvin Gaye and the Isleys too. If you want to play the comparison game then Sometimes has a distinct Paul Simon feel to it while the jaunty title track (recorded in Mexico) skip could sit easily in your Randy Newman collection.
Above all though, the album breathes with the distinct essence of late night Lanois, vintage malt sipped by candlelight, the flames flickering over memories of lost lovers, hymns from sad hearts and poems of life's rich mystical mysteries. Working with drummer Brian Blade but playing most of the instruments himself, it's a spare but deeply textured work, as intimate and personal to absorb as it must have been to create.
Lanois has said that peer closely and you'll find the political thread of the songs, the Tower of Babel reference in As Tears Roll By for example, but chances are that you'll prefer to darken the lights, lay back and let it seep into your bloodstream. "I wanted the record to be one of those that you put on and you never take off," says Lanois. Good call.
Mike Davies
Last Night's Fun (alias concertina wiz Chris Sherburn, singer/guitarist Denny Bartley and uilleann piper Nick Scott), have been performing together as a folkie "dream team" unit for around five years now (Chris and Denny as a duo for much longer), and each time you hear them, or see them live, you're bowled over - still. You think they can't get any better, but then they knock you out all over again. However, such is the trio's unrivalled presence live in concert that even their legions of devoted fans might view a new live album release with a degree of caution, not just because this is the trio's second live album release (the first, Live At The Wharf, came out under the Sherburn-Bartley-Scott moniker not long after the partnership had begun), but because you just know you simply can't ever encapsulate the combination of pindrop attentiveness and almost unbridled hilarity that's a hallmark of their appearances on stage (not even on a DVD perhaps). Admittedly, it's obvious (more so than with many live albums) that the trio's distinctive live presence can never be fully reproduced (not even on a DVD!), with that characteristic emotional pendulum swinging so wildly from the unbridled hilarity of their off-the-wall between-song/tune banter and commentary to the deeply serious (though still Fun!) music-making that commands in an audience a pindrop attentiveness and concentration comparable to that emanating hotly from the musicians themselves. LNF share that particular kind of emotional pendulum with the esteemed Vin Garbutt, with whose between-song repartee Chris's might (at least in terms of its function within the set) be said to have a certain kinship (in this respect, if a LNF live album were to faithfully reflect or portray the complete experience, then you'd need a multi-disc box!). Having said which, LNF always give value for money musically too, and this new hour-long disc, recorded in February this year at Birmingham Arts Centre, presents eight choice items from the trio's current repertoire, with a few tantalising glimpses of their banter (mostly around the very start of tracks). Perhaps more than on previous occasions, there's a weighting towards songs rather than tune-sets (five out of the eight selections here); having said that, one of the noteworthy features of LNF's approach is the way they dovetail songs into tunes so very naturally, building up and on the atmosphere created while affording opportunity for typically stunning displays of showmanship. Their entirely natural individual and collective virtuosity is as astounding and powerful as ever, and always amounts to so much more than a mere vehicle for the session-style improvisation it superficially resembles and from years of experience in which activity it clearly draws its main inspiration. The songs on the set cannily mingle stuff they've been doing for donkey's years (no, not Sullivan's John! - I mean Roseville Fair...) with some newer additions to their repertoire (Next Market Day, Tom Joad), while the current showpiece for Nick is the stunning air Autumn Child by Brendan O'Regan. For the benefit of those not in the know, it has to be said that Denny's vocal style is a bit of an acquired taste, with its reliance on drone centres. In this respect, it's probably his interpretation of Whisky In The Jar which will most likely be the sticking point for the unconverted, though I just love Denny's distinctly idiosyncratic way of treating the melody to all manner of wayward but passionate keening, rendering it well nigh unrecognisable to yer average punter who's used to the rabble-rousing Luke Kelly hearty pub-folk singalong approach (Denny's version just rollicks in a different way, that's all!). So there ye have it: fun not just from last night but for every night - a permanent record of a seriously vibrant trio who are still a real force to be reckoned with on the live circuit, an act that I for one never tire of seeing ...
David Kidman
David Kidman
The eternally youthful concertina player Chris Sherburn and singer/guitarist Denny Bartley have, after years of ultra-hard gigging as a well-respected duo on the folk circuit, finally teamed up on a permanent basis with elfin uilleann piper Nick Scott, calling themselves Last Night's Fun. But you'll have fun a-plenty on every single night you see them live, for a typical gig is as likely to leave you just as breathless with laughing (at Chris's introductions), as speechless at the trios superlative individual and collective virtuosity and musicianship.
But this CD, the trios second release (a live album came out a couple of years ago), takes the LNF experience onto another plane entirely. Even if you accept their considerable instrumental and vocal prowess as given, the power of the performances on Dubh is literally quite stunning. The first thing youll notice is that its abundantly clear all three musicians are totally into the music, and play with a passion, determination and unstinting commitment thats hard to beat among contemporary exponents of Irish traditional music, certainly among those based in this country. The second thing youll notice is the complete assurance of their technique (whether on tunes or songs), creating a vital and immediate listening experience each time (this is no mean achievement, especially considering the number of times you hear indifferent versions of some of the pieces elsewhere!).
Yet the trio take the brave step of beginning this album of Irish music with the eight-minute Ploughman And The Furrow, which ingeniously marries the slow air Roisin Dubh with Dennys singing of a version of John Barleycorn taken from a poem by Orkney writer George Mackay Brown. Pretty unusual, but the way Denny builds and develops the vocal line from out of Nicks quiet, eerie drone is nothing short of amazing. And, like much of the rest of the album, recorded in one live take. Dont be intimidated by the bands cover portrait, or by the albums title (a Gaelic word meaning variously dark, black, brooding, mysterious, which is more a reflection of its seriousness of purpose and its overall majesty and scale, as subsequent tracks reveal.
Perhaps the most immediately noticeable progression from Chris and Dennys duo recordings is artistic rather than obviously colouristic; Denny has always impressed me as a singer of real distinction, but lately, with the recent release of his solo album (Midnight Feast), his interpretative powers have moved onto another plane, on which this new LNF album focuses. Theres a high degree of measured breadth, strength and internal discipline in his readings, giving the performances an almost epic quality that befits the timelessness of the tradition within which hes working. All of which is stated not in the least to denigrate or belittle the stirring contributions of both Chris and Nick. Their absolute tightness and togetherness when playing in unison makes it all the more effective when they veer away on independent lines. And with Dennys fantastic guitar underpinning and developing the rhythm, who needs bass and drums and programmed beats?
The sheer sense of drive and momentum on the instrumental sets is thoroughly contemporary in sensibility, but never merely thrashy. The albums closer is a masterstroke, where a spirited tune-set falls away onto the bleak and intense sean-nós of Aisling Gheal. This album is stupendous, both a landmark release and a seriously important contribution to the modern presentation of Irish traditional music.
www.lastnightsfun.com
www.adamailorder.co.uk
David Kidman
Patty Larkin - Red = Luck (Ace)
Covered by names as diverse as Holly Cole and Cher and even awarded a Patty Larkin Day by the city of Boston, the Iowa born singer-songwriter's tenth album may further Regrooving the Dream's use of loops and electronics but it's essentially a consolidation and celebration of her strengths as a folk rooted performer. Embracing Celtic, pop and Middle Eastern influnces, filtering in R&B colours here, a bouzouki there, Ben Wittman and Gideon Freudmann providing trademark lap steel and cello sounds, it's an assured, mature and absorbingly contemplative work.
As you might gather from a press blurb that talks of meldings of Beth Orton, Guy Clarke, Dylan, Richard Thompson and Me'Shell NdegeOcello, it's a fairly diverse tapestry of moods and songs, the title track itself a reflective dew-on-the-branches acoustic guitar and voice instrumental.
Too Bad comes at you with ringing plangent guitars, picking up the tempo to forge a driving slice of rootsy rock while also on the upbeat Louder is a simple let your hair down masala of rock, Celtic dance, and jazzy Middle Eastern vibe that throws in clattering percussion, sintar, accordion, flute, fiddle and a raft of electric guitars around the simple line "this old world is getting louder."
Elsewhere The Cranes harks to fairly traditional acoustic folk that uses winged migration as an image for a collapsing relationship, All That Innocence adopts a slinky hazed jazzy groove, 24/7/365 tumbles on a snaky bluesy rhythm with its contrasting laid back verse delivery and the whispered urgency of its chorus line and Children's reflection on lost innocent days shuffles a lazy rhythm beneath those weariness-veined clear vocals.
Although social commentary bites on Birmingham (which musically evokes Bruce Cockburn) as she reflects on the working poor and the country's economic disparities, it's the personal - and through that the universal - that informs most of the material. Poignantly Home, a simple vocal and acoustic guitar tune, which calls to mind the quiet sadness of Janis Ian (an on which you can just hear a swallowed sob at one point) is one of two songs that came out of 9/11, the other, the equally sparse and edgy Normal, a striking conclusion that being crazy these days, is, well normal.
For me the stand outs though are the head up stand tall defiance of the mid-tempo Mary Chapin Carpenter rocking Different World, the semi-spoken love lifts you up that is St Augustine which features American-Irish outfit Solas with Larkin showing that Dylan clip to her delivery. And Italian Shoes, a Kathy Mattea, mountain air, smell of pine, jumble of confusions cocktail about communication as the singer finds herself unable to articulate what she feels without having to say "I love you." A grown up album for grown up ears in a grown up world.
Mike Davies
Flame Of Wine (a literal translation of Lasairfhíona Ní Chonaola's own name in Irish) turns out to be the lady in question's second CD, and it's a treasure, no exaggeration. How on earth Lasairfhíona had slipped under my radar with her debut An Raicín Álainn in 2002, well that's a mystery, sure enough! She's a singer deeply rooted in the sean-nós style of her home on Inishere (Aran Islands), but unlike most other noted sean-nós singers her voice is of the gentle and breathy kind (she's been described as "like an Irish Kate Rusby", a tag which, though it contains an element of truth, doesn't convey the extra special qualities of ethereal expressive shading that Lasarfhíona's voice possesses). Her singing is pretty, yes, but also very satisfying interpretatively, with a thoughtfulness and substance underlying the attractive surface quality; it's wispy, yet also very immediate in its impact. Flame Of Wine, unlike Lasarfhíona's debut CD, rings the changes by including four songs sung in English alongside the expected majority-quotient of performances in her native Irish. One Morning In June even alternates lines between the two languages, and very engagingly so. Galleon is a departure too: Lasarfhíona's own composition, it's a particularly fine example of the personalised expression of a universal theme (love), and was inspired by the long maritime tradition of the Aran Islands and the strong connection between Galway and Spain; I do hope we get to hear more of Lasarfhíona's songwriting in the future. Other highlights here include the two unaccompanied songs - which include a supremely poised rendition of the established sean-nós repertoire piece An Raibh Tú Ar An gCarraig - and The Lonely Valley (fetchingly done to the familiar Carrickfergus tune), the bulk of the text of which Lasarfhíona learnt from her grandmother. Livelier moments come with Sí Do Mhamó Í and a fun children's song The Rabbits' Dance. For even more variety, Lasarfhíona also presents a couple of comparative oddities: Aoibhneas An Ghrá (Love's Enchantment) is a creative semi-spoken, semi-sung/intoned setting of a piece of Irish Bardic poetry, whereas the title track pits Lasarfhíona's enchanting soft wordless keening against a gentle drone. Finally I must remark on the excellent sound of the album and the magical supporting musicianship: Máire Breatnach, who has co-produced the disc (and who was also involved with Niamh De Búrca's fine album which I reviewed here a few months ago), also plays fiddle, viola and piano, while Mary Bergin (whistles), Bill Shanley (guitar) and two bodhrán players also contribute. This is a lovely CD, which I'm sure I shall be returning to a lot.
David Kidman January 2007
If loving should be easy, so should reviewing this CD… but it isn't as it turns out. So let's start out with the biog - Jim's a native of Whitstable (Kent), though his personal brand of laid-back s/s folk-rock betrays no Kentish traditional influences. Much of the current album (his second, apparently) owes more to the lazy country-folk of The Band, with reflective melodies enhancing the narratives and emotions depicted in a very attractive manner. Strongest tracks are those later on in the album which, like Doesn't Matter Anymore, Undertow and House On The Hill, build on those characteristics. Rootsy touches are supplied by Jim's well-chosen crew of backing musicians, who include melodeonist Tim Edey, bass and drums from Matt Barwick and Phil Laslett, not to mention Geoff Richardson, Simon Lee, Richard Rozze and Andy Goodall on various guitar-type instruments and some stylish soprano sax from James Ross. Jim's own unpretentious guitar work complements the overall effect of his equally unpretentious songcraftI said that reviewing this CD wasn't altogether easy - that's because there's little to find fault with, while at the same time little to go overboard and shout about; the absence of any significantly weak material should, however, count for rather than against it; for it's a likeable product that should win Jim some more fans.
David Kidman
www.myspace.com/lastordersfolk
David Kidman August 2007
The Last Post - Dry Land (Bright Star)
The second album in his new guise from former In Motion Dublin singer-songwriter Alan Kelly was hailed by many as the Irish album of 2002 and its release beyond native shore should safely see it finding a home on 2003's best of lists too. Melancholic pop ballads are his stock in trade, delivered in a choirboy vocals and enfolded in the big strings layered sound (Waiting, It's All Over Complete with big brass finale) of Phil Spector, the sweet summer lush harmony dripping melodies (Only Thing That Eases The Pain, Change) of Brian Wilson and the country soul (The Midday Sun, Can't Wait Til Tomorrow, of Gram Parsons.
Pitched somewhere between The Prayer Boat and The Fat Lady Sings, with fellow Dubliner David Kitt taking lead on three of the album's stand-out numbers, it's music for the twilight hours when the sound of shattered hearts falling on rainswept streets drowns out the noise of the world.
Mike Davies
Together now for a decade, now settled into the current five piece line-up, augmented to include brass and pedal steel players for their live outings, this is the fifth album for an outfit touted as one of America's best roots rock acts.
It's a not difficult to see why given the muscular confidence with which they address their various musical influences, ranging from the classic rolling country of Anywhere But Here to blues (You), jazz (a trumpet and percussion shuffling The Color Blue), mariachi (Can't Come Undone) and mandolin dappled folk (a cover of AP Carter's Lovers Farewell).
Although frontman and sometime Washington Post music columnist Eric Brace handles the bulk of the writing, this is very much a band effort, guitarist Steve Wedermeyer (who penned Can't Come Undone) and former Jayhawks keyboardist Jen Gunderman very much part of the mix, the latter very much carving her name across I'm Coming Home.
The catchy title track gets the country rocking ball rolling with a full head of steam and a heading down the highway chorus. But, while there's not a weak moment here, it's the second number, Flood, that really makes the hairs on the back of the neck stand up sounding like some classic lost Richard Thompson cover with that sonorous ringing guitar and steady rhythm. In terms of album highlights it stands shoulder to shoulder with the moody bruised heart slow waltzing ballad Go Now while, a duet with Alice Despard, their version of This Wheel's On Fire would warrant a place on any self-respecting collection of Dylan covers. All aboard, then.
Mike Davies December 2007
Currently still touring with Maddy Prior & The Girls, Abbie's nevertheless a major imaginative talent in her own right, as her previous solo album Spring (2003) demonstrated. Its followup, Low Summer, though two whole summers in coming, does however prove worth the wait; it's a further collection of intriguing original songs by Abbie herself (with the exception of Swallows, penned by Jon Fletcher), carrying the torch for poetic, strongly individual and highly aware contemporary songwriting. Once again Abbie's lyrics embody an acute understanding of observation and perception and how they impact on reality, all the while comprehending that it's a two-way process. Standout cuts this time round - notably the ostensibly more unusual, Pooka-esque (sorry, it's the only really relevant reference point I feel) ones like Broken and Therapy - display every bit as much imagination and originality as their counterparts on Spring. Elsewhere, Lucky reminded me of Laurie Anderson with its cool vocalising and eerie programmed beats, and the hip-jazz idiom proves apt for the philosophy of Secret Communication, while Let It Fall and the delicately pensive piano-backed Better Days have a dreamy Kate Bush ambience and Treachery is an inventively, lusciously scored piece loosely following the style of a traditional ballad (though considerably more economical in scope). There's still the very occasional, slightly frustrating, nagging sense that in Abbie's quest for economy of poetic expression an idea or situation is not quite fully developed, but generally the songs' brevity (or, putting it another way, their limited expansiveness) is but one of their strengths – another, of course, being Abbie's powerful use of simple imagery. As on Spring, Abbie herself plays the vast majority of the instruments heard on the recording ("yep, even the melodica!"), although she again calls on Jane Griffiths for some glorious string arrangements on three songs and her now-regular mini-team of Tony Poole (12-string), Colin Fletcher (bass) and Ady Milward (drums) appear here and there. I feel the CD probably tails off a bit towards the end, with Safe To Be and the final track (which is effectively just a brief slow air played - albeit beautifully - on low whistle) somewhat losing the sense of direction maintained throughout the foregoing tracks. On Low Summer as an overall entity there's not quite the sense of onward, forward artistic development from Spring that one might have then expected, but to be honest I'd far rather have another consistent disc that preserves the abnormally high standard Abbie had already set on those first two albums - so I've no complaints on that score.
David Kidman
Taking its cue from the title track which uses the rows between residents and celebrants over the pagan festivals staged there as a springboard to lament the spiritual decline of the nation many, her own songs are very much thoughtfully concerned with the atmospheres of old England and the contemporary resonance of its passing. Listen to 100 Years inspired by the ruin of a manor in an Oxfordshire hamlet, Runaway which details ambiguous feelings about leaving and staying, the Beauty and the Beast like folk legend of Man On The Hill and even Beside My Love where the sanctuary of which she sings could as easily be a land as a lover. And, accompanying herself on piano as thoughts of June Tabor meeting Kate Bush come to mind, on Curlew she finds hope in the simple sound of a bird cry over the wild moor.
The traditional choices follow a familiar route of meeting true loves on a May morning (the largely multi-tracked a capella Searching For Lambs) and lovers lost at sea (Lady Franklin's Lament), but there's nothing predictable about her choice of covers. Paul Weller's English Rose is transformed into an almost classical folk song with bowed double bass and low whistle, Jane Griffiths brings violin to Lathe's piano for the spare elegiac and rich Two island Swans written by Gail Collins and Felix Pappalardi while no less than Raymond (that's Gilbert to you and me) O'Sullivan's Nothing Rhymed sees her accentuating the accent while texturing the liltingly melancholic arrangement with Indian harmonium and John Spier's melodeon. Producer and 12 string guitarist Tony Poole (yes, he of long lost and lamented legends Starry Eyed and Laughing) also contributes a track in the glorious open sky bracing mountain air of Come Away, a nigh folkily anthemic song custom built to be sung around bonfires, maypoles and the sort of festivals to which Avebury's born ancient witness. Looks like English folk just found itself another rising star.
www.abbielathe.co.uk
www.parkrecords.com
Mike Davies
If you've heard the Maddy Prior & The Girls' release Bib And Tuck you can't have missed the small contingent of songs therein which were composed by Abbie Lathe (the trio's lone non-Prior-Family member). Songs like Rain, which possess a striking character at once pretty and disturbing, delicate and forthright. Not "folk" by any real stretch of the imagination, of course, but nevertheless entirely typical of Abbie's abundantly imaginative approach both in terms of lyrics and sound-world. A couple of throwaway doodles aside, Spring amounts to an uninterrupted and beautifully atmospheric collection of original songs. Original they certainly are, too, with an earthy consciousness and an unusual kind of poetry that entices and insinuates rather than allowing for instant appreciation. In terms of sound alone, though, if nothing else, more than once was I reminded of the work of Pooka (the curious yet logical harmonies in Free To Go, the tingling waywardness of Autumn Rain) or Kate Bush (the adventurous Beginning To Be) or Helen Watson (the insouciant rootsy jazziness of Easter and Under The Sea). Those comments aren't meant to play down the individuality of Abbie's distinctive and unsettling music; it's often ethereal and other-worldly, but with feet firmly planted on contemporary earth. Abbie herself is responsible for most of the instrumentation, but there are some telling contributions from a handful of other musicians including Martin Bransden (double-bass), Roy Dodds and Ady Milward (drums). I also liked the textural enhancement brought by Jane Griffiths' violin and/or viola on Houdini and (especially) So Cold and Free To Go. The only non-Abbie composition, John Blanchard's Finnish Song (which to all intents and purposes "finnishes" the album!), is a rich vocal exercise performed a-capella with definite overtones of Slav religious music. This is an altogether stimulating release; a harbinger of great things to come from Abbie, I'm convinced.
David Kidman
It's been a fantastic year for this sensational three-piece, with a best-selling album (Lightweights And Gentlemen) followed by a load of heavily-raved-about live appearances and culminating in the receipt of the Best Group Award in the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards (as well as two further nominations).
It seems only fitting, therefore, that a live album be released to capitalise on the momentum thus far gained. It presents just over an hour of music recorded at what sounds like a typically fiery Lau gig, in December last year at Edinburgh's Bongo Club. I saw Lau a few weeks earlier during that very same tour, and I can testify to their tremendous live presence and equally tremendous musicianship, as well as to the sheer impact they have on an audience.
Each of the three musicians gives his all in a spontaneous display of intelligent showmanship: the more reflective moments are received with rapt attentiveness, while sparks really do fly (and the crowd whoop it up accordingly) on the more manic sections of their sets. These two musical poles are exemplified by the opening set (Stewarts), which starts deceptively calmly, almost leisurely, before building and erupting on the high-voltage final section with some bold flourishes, discords and admirably hectic playing.
Essential elements of the band's appeal are their particular strengths: hallmarks such as Kris Drever's unusually fine singing (the live set reproduced here includes three songs), Martin Green's crazily inventive accordion playing and wild-man stage persona, Aidan O'Rourke's alternately sublime and excitable virtuoso fiddle work - and of course the serious togetherness of Lau as a highly involved and totally involving performing unit.
All of these elements are present in full force on this live CD, which benefits from an absolutely excellent, truthful recording. Of the nine individual tracks, no fewer than three (Frank And Flo's, Sea, and Banks Of Marble, a setting by Kris of words by Les Rice), are recent additions to the already impressive set-list, compositions which maintain (and, I'm increasingly thinking, probably even surpass) the brilliant standard we've already now come to expect from this team. And even if the remaining six tracks are already available in studio form on Lightweights, there's still one hell of an extra frisson to be got from the live performance, and from this recording of it captured herein. Anyone wanting to hear what all the fuss is about with Lau is urged to seek out this live album pronto - that is, if they can't manage to catch the trio on their current tour...
www.lau-music.co.uk
www.myspace.com/laumusic
David Kidman April 2008
A bit of a supergroup this! Well, you might think that way if you already know the constituent members of this sparkling trio. First there's Kris Drever, Orcadian guitarist and singer who made a big impact with his solo CD Black Water last year; then brilliant fiddler Aidan O'Rourke (of Blazin' Fiddles) who more than proved his "Sirius" intent on a solo album a short while back; and last but not least ace accordionist Martin Green, who's already a veteran of key collaborations with folk luminaries such as Eliza Carthy and Kathryn Tickell.
Coming together under the (obscure and unexplained) collective name of Lau (no, it's not an acronym!), the three musicians have already gained a reputation for storming live shows, with a brief spring tour under their belt and an appearance on the main stage at Cambridge Folk Festival at the end of this month. The proof of this particular pudding lies also in the easy digestion of Lau's first recorded artefact, a full near-as-dammit hour's worth of their distinctive blend of folk music that encompasses both dance and song and that's been described as "sublimely anarchic" (not a bad tag, as it happens, although it belies the care they take with their arrangements).
Each musician's outstanding technical virtuosity is by now undisputed, but when they combine forces there's an additional chemistry that transcends tasty and rises above the heat of the moment onto another plane, so that even on record the impact is genuinely thrilling. Take the way a typical set of tunes (they're nearly all own-compositions as far as I can tell - my copy of the booklet has a printing error that has removed some of the track information and credits) will morph through a whole pack of influences from Balkan to old-time to Celtic to jazz in a way that's tremendously exciting even in this so-what, heard-it-all age; it's cleverly arranged, and consciously so yes, but part of the cleverness lies in the way it all keeps its spontaneity in the act of performance.
Seven out of the ten tracks are instrumental, mostly tune-sets of one kind or other, ranging from an ostensibly straightforward jig-set to Results, which turns a Latino/calypso-style lilt into a driving almost-reel; and the more reflective Gallowhill is a kind of slow air with some intriguing melodic turns. Probably best of all the instrumental tracks, though, is The Lang Set, two conjoined tracks which travel from syncopated hornpipe through swinging reel to strange mood-picture featuring E-bowed dobro and on to twisted strathspey Alyth's (in tribute to a Gaelic singer) and riotous dash to the finishing line, all in the space of around 12 minutes.
On the remaining three tracks, Kris treats us to his eloquent and gently expressive singing voice on a thoughtful rendition of Ewan MacColl's Freeborn Man and a couple of neatly-conceived trad arrs (Butcher Boy and Unquiet Grave). There's also a bonus track, Twa Stewarts, another extended piece whose forward momentum is deceptive. Lightweights is a "never in a million years" word as far as describing this league of "gentlemen" goes - although their feel for dynamics and embellishment can bring a lightness and delicacy of texture, there's never a lack of substance in their musical invention. An invigorating disc all told.
David Kidman July 2007
Country of the Buck Owens persuasion, this. Lauderdale's fifth album, was originally released this back in 97 and now forms part of a package of BMG reissues via their new alt-country label. Though more successful as a songwriter - having been covered by George Strait and Patti Loveless - he's got the baritone vocal chops to warrant his own parking space on the country charts, especially now that he's straightened out his earlier blues and soul influences to play it more down the Opry line. A little more spark in the production might give the impetus he needs, but as this album demonstrates, he certainly knows his way round a honky tonk tune and a heart in the bottom of a beer glass with In Harm's Way (keening fiddle to the fore), Goodbye Song, cheating song It's Hard To Keep A Secret Anymore and mountain hoe-down I'll Lead You Home with Ralph Stanley and his boys guesting among the particularly strong offerings here.
Other reissues titles include Lee Roy Parnell - Hits and Highways Ahead, Los Super Seven's Grammy winning eponymous debut, and Radney Foster's Labor Of Love
www.jimlauderdale.com
www.gravitylabel.com
Mike Davies
This was actually one of my very favourite albums of 2001, and I still rate it very highly indeed. Back then I cautiously predicted a healthy measure of success for it, which, however, for some unfathomable reason, has so far not materialised. Liz and Terry are based in Allendale, Northumberland, and have both been carving separate paths on the north-east's folk scene for many years, but have only relatively recently combined their talents in partnership. Liz has been a member of that estimable group of ladies known collectively as Lucky Bags, who have produced two albums on the Fellside label that are well worth hearing, while Terry's been writing excellent and highly distinctive songs for some years, and though a respected solo performer could be said to have been hiding his performing light under a bushel somewhat; whatever, he's richly deserving of wider acclaim. Premier has a very appropriate title, which coincidentally represents both a former Hartlepool temperance hotel (bombed during an air-raid in 1940) and the absolutely top-drawer quality of the music within its generous 72 minutes. Attractive songs with strong melodies and genuinely interesting content, well sung with plenty of character (and highly personal yet - after close listening - far from impenetrable local accent!) by Terry, and for the most part accompanied simply but effectively by the winning combination of Terry's fluid guitar and Liz's various dulcimers. Premier is the product of three years of developing a healthy duo repertoire, and having seen them play live several times I can testify to the impressive extensiveness of that repertoire; although the main purpose of recording Premier was to protect Terry's songs (precious few of which have hitherto made their way onto record, unfortunately), it also demonstrates, almost incidentally, Terry's richly persuasive way with traditional material (on three tracks) and the duo's recently-acquired prowess at joint composition (four songs). Terry's own songs provide the main focus, and these show a canny talent indeed that can embrace an enviably wide emotional range, leaping in one bound from the delicious regional humour of The Bus Tae Morpeth to the sublime and moving Death In March which constitutes Terry's deep and very personal response to the death in 1941 of novelist Virginia Woolf. The heartfelt Winter's Weary Snaa contrasts starkly with the uproarious Futures Marketeers, while The Granite is the stirring story of the collier brig that broke up in a storm off the North Gare in 1888. And not to mention the catchy, unashamed "pop song" Jemima; in fact, if this and at least two other songs had been claimed to be lost Jez Lowe masterpieces I'd not have been surprised, for the two writers share a defiantly quirky sense of fun and a real aptitude for the deliciously sly turn of phrase. Having said that, I reckon that Liz and Terry's joint compositions are also equally fine - also, incidentally, embodying the very qualities we admire in Jez's writing: i.e., a gentle and appealing sense of fantasy lurking amidst both the nostalgia and the broader humour. And to break the songs up, about midway through the CD, an interlude is provided by a delectable, sprightly modal tune of Liz's on which her own dulcimer is ably accompanied by the harp of fellow-Lucky-Bag Julie-Ann Kay. And as a bonus the album is superbly packaged and annotated too. My only (miniscule) complaint with this fine CD is that we don't get to hear just a bit more of Liz's singing! But this disc really is an absolute treasure, which you'll not regret tracking down; do so, and you'll give Liz and Terry the incentive to record a follow-up; or better still, get your local folk club to book them - they're stars!
David Kidman
Ever since the mid-80s, Stevie has been actively involved in the Scottish traditional and roots music scene; his celebrated stint with the band Iron Horse preceded many years as sideman with various bands and instigator of many diverse projects including work for TV and radio. His talents as multi-instrumentalist, arranger and composer are well showcased on Standing Alone, which I was surprised to discover is his first ever true solo album. And that means completely solo, multitracked. Although stringed instruments are very definitely Stevie's forte (guitars, bouzouki, mandolin, mandola, dobro, tenor banjo, basses), he's no disgrace when it comes to the low whistle or Scottish smallpipes either, while concertina, hurdy-gurdy and percussion are brought out from time to time to vary the instrumental texture even more. Many of the compositions on this album are Stevie's own, with tunes by Alistair Anderson, Chaz Stewart, Jan Garbarek, Donal Lunny/Declan Sinnott, Angus Lyon and Billy Pigg making up the rest; there's even a nod to prog-rock with a version of Jon Anderson's Soon (from Yes's Gates Of Delirium suite). So all in all, there's a healthy variety in pace and mood to keep this from becoming just another instrumental showcase project, and it makes for a highly listenable 62 minutes.
David Kidman
A new set from solid down-the-line bluegrass gospellers that won't spring any surprises: replete with expert playing and singing, quality songs etc etc. that won't set the world alight - and nor are they meant to. When Mr Lawson and his chums are hot and cookin' then they turn out a pretty satisfying dish, but when they're in preachin' mode they can border on the sanctimonious - and there are a couple of tracks here that fall that way by the wayside. However, compared to earlier offerings this is by and large a more creditable set and some of the songs are real gems where the actual performances lift them out of the potential rut: I'm thinking of The Selfishness In Man, Mississippi River and the thoughtful title cut in particular. All the usual elements are in place exactly where you'd expect them - rippling mandolin, deft guitar picking, swooning fiddle, chugging banjo, bounding bass, and of course those time-honoured harmonies... predictable you might say, suitably unchallenging, more of the same old same old, but their fans clearly love it, and will continue to love it for time immemorial. There's also a bouncy instrumental cut to send things along nicely midway through the disc - we could do with more demonstrations of their chops, you might think, but after all their mission lies in the songs... It's with songs like The Phone Call however, that things turn a mite too mawkish, and that's where I part company with Doyle. And there's an unnecessary gimmick at the end of the disc in the shape of a "repro" retro take of the final song, the joyously simple Carter Family-like Can You Hear Me Now? - it's a great little song, sure, but hey, we don't need another take in 30s sound do we?!... Otherwise, existing DL&Q fans won't be disappointed with this workmanlike disc, but it's preaching to the converted in more ways than one: it all sticks to the well-worn formula, so there's virtually no chance of making any new converts.
David Kidman July 2007
This is a welcome CD reissue for a juicy rarity from the beginning of 1975 that was originally only issued in Germany on vinyl. Indeed, even Wizz Jones fans might be forgiven for not knowing of its existence! So here's the background. In the early 70s, Raymond "Wizz" Jones was but one of the classy British acts who had come through the 60s on the crest of the British folk revival but were by then forced to establish themselves on the European gigging circuit (where their work was appreciated!), particularly in Germany - which meant spending ever more time abroad, hence the provenance of this album. But to backtrack slightly: the band that recorded as Lazy Farmer, which was "very much a social thing" rather than a formal gigging band, comprised Wizz himself, his wife Sandy on banjo, ex-COB member John Bidwell on flute and guitar, Jake Walton on dulcimer, hurdy-gurdy and guitar, and Don Coging playing a second five-string banjo, with all but Don sharing vocal duties. It was an interesting lineup to say the least, with an unusual and fresh sound whose sheer instrumental range was, inevitably, beset with potential tuning problems. Much of the album (Sandy's vocal parts aside) was recorded in one take, and its full sound more or less reproduced the sound of the band playing live. Its dozen tracks include a small contingent of lively adaptations of fiddle tunes taken from the book produced by the album's dedicatee (American banjo player John Burke), the remainder consist of a Ralph McTell original (Standing Down In New York Town), Wizz's own When I Leave Berlin (which he'd previously recorded two years earlier for the small Village Thing label), Derroll Adams' Love Song and a healthy clutch of sensitive new arrangements of traditional songs. It's a delightful set, with some energetic and eminently assured playing that belies the chalk-and-cheese nature of the band's unusual (and seemingly unwieldy) instrumental complement, and it certainly does not deserve the obscurity thus far accorded it. So hats off to Sunbeam for exhuming the original tapes. Don't let the unduly kiddie-twee cover art fool you, this is a highly musical album of more than passing interest, and worth adding to your collection.
www.wizzjones.com
www.jakewaltonmusic.co.uk
www.sunbeamrecords.com
David Kidman, July 2006
Leather & Lace - I Feel Lucky (Leather & Lace)
Deanne and Paul teamed up as a duo about five years ago and have been building a following since then, but this is their first CD. It comprises ten excellent covers of songs made popular by well-known Country acts - and personally, I like some even better than the originals! Deanne has a strong raunchy voice, ideally suited to the New country material - and Paul's multi-track backings more than well support her.
First off is 'Honey I'm Home' and I prefer it to Shania Twain's version - but maybe I'm biased! This is followed by 'Queen Of Memphis', originally from Confederate Railroad, and The Mavericks' 'All You Do Is Bring Me Down'. Here Deanne 'duets' with herself, but perhaps it isn't quite enough compared to the full groups doing them - but very good to dance to nevertheless. Next we have the more relaxing 'Shut Up And Drive', popularised by Chely Wright - and this is my favourite track on the CD.
The music is very tight and the harmonies are delightful. In contrast, we are next thrown into Shania's 'Any Man Of Mine' - and it sounds like Deanne will have every man in her hand when she finishes! 'Go Away', originally by Laurie Morgan, is definitely something I wouldn't want Leather & Lace to do at this point - and Joe Diffie's 'Honky Tonk Attitude' is a nice toe-tapper. But the title track, 'I Feel Lucky', which was such a big hit for Mary Chapin Carpenter, is probably the best known track and performed excellently. The penultimate track is the Dixie Chicks 'I Can Love You Better', leading to a nice wind down after such a lively album, with 'Husbands And Wives' - originally Brooks & Dunn. If you like New Country and Line Dancing, you'll enjoy this CD from a very talented British Duo.
Elma Alexander
J.P. LeBlanc - Take Me Back (Self Produced)
LeBlanc is a new kid in town and on the basis of this album, he'll be around for some time. He has a hand in all 13 tracks on this, his first full-length CD and his repertoire shows he is no one trick pony. He starts with Black Cat, providing some clean guitar licks and there's some class organ work from Johnny 'Porco' Theodore. The title track has a whispery intro and he displays a voice that belies his tender years - could we have the new Stevie Ray here? In fact, I'm not the first to have likened him to the great man, and I won't be the last.
24/7 is a fast blues with snappy guitar and the talent just oozes from this boy. It's hard to believe that he's only 19!! He slows the pace down a little for Velvet Paintings. I'm sure that Clapton would be pleased to produce the guitar work on this. The revs are up again for Make Up Your Mind and there's plenty of the now customary guitar pyrotechnics. There's an acoustic slide intro on the simple, effective and deliberate blues, I Think It Was Love.
The strangely titled Ticket Smile is a driving, relentless boogie and there's a slow Cajun feel to My Hearts On The Line - further evidence of his versatility and the latter is very relaxing. What's It Gonna Be wakens you up again with screaming guitar and Theodore's wonderful organ playing - this is a top performance. It Hurts Me So is a slow piano based blues with sultry harmonica from Joe Murphy and more evidence of LeBlanc's quick fingers.
The snappy drums and staccato vocal & guitar on Got Me Goin' are a good lead into the slow burner Don't Tell Me, which features some fine slowhand guitar. This would be a classy closing track but for the bonus track, a French language version of My Heart's On The Line, entitled Mon Couer A Tes Pieds.
I still can't believe this guy is only 19 and I can only sit and wait for his next album.
David Blue
There was an almost tangible atmosphere of excitement and anticipation in the foyer of The Empire cinema, an atmosphere that was heightened by the presence of a phalanx of photographers awaiting the arrival of the stars of the evening, the remaining members of the band that was, and will always be, Led Zeppelin.
We were all there for the premiere of "DVD", a twin-DVD (surprisingly) made up of lots of what's claimed to be previously unseen concert footage of the band. Due for release in a couple of weeks' time, the DVD runs for more than five hours but we were spared the full experience. Five hours-plus sitting in a cinema might have been a little *too* much - what we got was a two-hour highlights package which was more than fair. Very much more.
The on-screen performances spanned the years 1970 to '79, featuring gigs at the Royal Albert Hall, Madison Square Garden, Earl's Court and Knebworth. While the sound and pictures were, understandably, of less-than-pristine quality from the earlier years, Jimmy Page and Kevin Shirley (the men responsible for the remastering) made a pretty good job of cleaning it all up as best as could be done. The later footage was of much higher quality and the cleaner sound certainly leant itself to the acoustic stuff, particularly "Going to California", which was top of the shop.
Surprisingly, "Stairway to heaven" was played, for its entirety, on the electric geetar but lost none of its magic for the absence of an acoustic. Other highlights included "Rock and roll", "In my time of dying", a thumping "Kashmir", "Nobody's fault but mine" and two very different versions of "Whole lotta love". It was, however, a little strange to hear, in a cinema, lots of enthusiastic clapping and hooting at the end of each tour de force of rockarama. You'd have thought we were at a gig. Or something.
The intervening years - blimey, 25 of 'em! - have done nothing to diminish the power and excitement that quartet was able to generate and I certainly wasn't alone in marvelling at the contribution of each and the sadness that such a skilled drummer was taken so soon.
An interesting diversion to the music was to note the aging process of each of the band members taking place before our eyes; least affected was John Paul Jones, who, in stereotypical bassman fashion, moved about the (various) stage(s) not very much at all and never seemed to break sweat. Most affected by the passing years was, unsurprisingly, John Bonham, who was a little heavier and more hirsute with each gig. It must have been a strange, possibly unsettling, experience for Messrs Plant and Page, to sit in that cinema, watching themselves cavorting in huge technicolor from a lifetime ago, in their guise of young, vibrant and, I have to admit (in a manly way!), damned good-looking rock gods.
The evening kicked off with an amusing little scenario when the three remaining Zeps took to the stage to address the packed cinema. The trio was greeted by a standing ovation, which they had to let die down before first Page and then Plant could speak.
Having been escorted to the stage by a small army of black-clad and mean-looking minders along the far right-hand side aisle, the band broke from the script by ignoring their heavies for the walk back to their seats by taking one of the two centre aisles. The small panic that descended upon the minders was quite amusing as they realised the band was, gasp!, without security and they hurried after Jones, Page and Plant to offer them the necessary protection from the many would-be assailants and assassins that were, undoubtedly, posing as Led Zep fans among the audience.
So, yeah, a good night and, providing it's not priced ridiculously highly, the DVD should be a worthy addition to any rock fan's library.
Fred Hall
Adios King (titled after Kerouac's reported eulogy on hearing of Neal Cassady's death) builds on the increasingly healthy reputation Louis gained through his previous album Reverie. It contains a set of 13 new compositions (all but two are Louis's own, the others are by the CD's cover artist Gina Phillips) that place him with his guitar (or banjo) firmly in front of you right in the same room. The immediacy of the experience mirrors the immediacy of his narrative vision, wherein the tales and emotions of "those close to the edge" (invariably life's losers) are directly conveyed. If you can latch onto Louis' witty insights and keen depictions, then you'll be appreciative of this set, which seems to fine-tune those key qualities better than on Reverie (where even the record's producer Bob Rupe felt that the tracks on which Louis played solo were its best). There's a more transparent quality to this new album altogether, with a definite quality to the images that Reverie's occasional obscurity prevented Louis from achieving consistently; having said that, one or two of the songs on this new set (like Evangeline) appear truncated, over before they get the chance to say all they need to. But that stricture certainly doesn't apply to Montreal, Cup Of Strong Black Coffee or the delicately personal When You Fall, which are all high points of the set and standouts of observation. (And the appealing, easy-rollin' country-blues of I Never Said could almost have come from a Chris Smither album! ) Louis's guitar work, which has usefully (and I think accurately) been described as having a "rolling Piedmont fingerpicking style exemplified by Etta Baker", is attractive and really complements his singing voice. In the end, if you didn't quite "get" Reverie, I'd recommend you give Louis another chance with Adios King, which you're sure to find more accessible and satisfying.
David Kidma