A to Z Album and Gig Reviews
Florida-born Sam, a protegé of Merle-Travis-style guitar master Gamble Rogers, made a deep impression on critics with his 1997 Waterbug debut, Solitary Travel, for the high standard both of his songwriting and his fingerpicking. Deft was the most-often-heard adjective describing both skills, and is the one that springs most readily to mind again with this new release, a joint venture between Sam and fellow-fingerpicker Gabriel (who produced Sam's debut, and who as a previous winner of the Merlefest guitar fingerpicking competition should have no need to prove his muso credentials!). Deft and quietly astonishing, with both guitars doing solid service in understated support of the musicians' chosen material. In this instance, we're treated to just three of Sam's own fine compositions, with one apiece by seven other writers making up the tracklisting. There's a truly lovely instrumental version of the Carter classic Wildwood Flower just over halfway through the disc, and elsewhere the duo turn in sensitive renditions of Kate MacLeod's beautiful Lark In The Morning and Steve Earle's Fort Worth Blues. I wasn't convinced by their take on Mississippi John Hurt's Louis Collins, I'll admit, but Michael Smith's There makes for a suitably powerful end to the disc. I can't find fault with the two musicians' interpretations or their playing, but in the end it's that very understatedness that lets the disc down just a tad for me, for it's all on one level and consistent to a fault, neatly balanced and even-handed, to the extent that even with concentrated listening I don't quite get excited by it, despite the evident warmth of the singing and playing and the two performers' complete empathy with each other's artistry.
www.sampacetti.com
www.waterbug.com
David Kidman October 2006
If you're a troubadour like Tom Pacheco it's a different kettle of fish. For a start you have a vast back catalogue that makes your credentials quite clear and hitting the campaign trail for Kerry hits deep in the pocket. The other difference is here on his new album; his post 9/11, second Bush term missive is unequivocal.
His sleeve note offers a bleak analysis of the times we find ourselves in, noting that writing songs less bracing than these would have been "fiddling the light fantastic while Rome burned".
And what songs they are; the keynotes are the title track, a call to arms for us all to 'take our planet back' and a call to artists to paint 'new Guernicas' and to infuse a revolution into the 'DNA of the notes they play'. Bookending the album 'Not In My Name' is "one of those rare tunes which inspires people to join in on the chorus without being asked". It's true Woody or Seeger in nailing the misdeeds of the administration whilst, in its massed voices, it binds us together in a defiance ('You're President, Sir, you're not King') that breeds optimism.
There's little of the other side of Woody'n'Pete here; only 'Frieda's Secret Garden', a knockabout marijuana moment with a deeper hit at the demonisation of the versatile plant offers levity. There's warmth however in Pacheco's tale of 'Woody And Jack' and the self explanatory 'That's What Life Is'.
The bleakness, however, imbues 'North Dakota''s menace; the corporate exploitation of 'Six Bucks An Hour' and the future nightmare of 'The Last Drop' ('The Nesslee Corporation bought all the rivers up / They say some places water costs a hundred bucks a cup'). The rich contrast of America's cultural heritage and its present day fear driven disassembly is at the heart of 'Grandma's Blue Blanket' and the collapse of family underpins 'Uncle Joe'.
Far from being a lousy listen it's actually a rich musical journey; Tom's melodies - especially after a few listens - are wonderful and the production by The Band's Jim Weider is spot on. He uses his own armoury of tasteful guitar textures to lightly embroider the tracks which he underpins with double bass and occasional keyboard washes. And the doubling of Tom's rich, resonant vocals with the lighter approach of Meg Johnson on several tracks is inspired.
So, whilst Rebel Spring will not catapult Tom Pacheco from small audience club gigs to the Royal Albert Hall at fifty quid a seat, it's worth noting that whilst Mr. Springsteen does so by drawing on the inspiration of Guthrie, Seeger et al, Pacheco is the real thing, cut from the same cloth as those guys with the same dust on his boots and the same song in his heart.
www.tompacheco.com
Rebel Spring is available from www.cdbaby.com
Steve Morris
www.roots-and-branches.com
WCR1350am
The Beat
Should I need to convince you that you need another new Tom Pacheco album, now? So far this year, he's already released The Long Walk, an inordinately fine rock-flavoured collaboration with a Norwegian band (scoring vastly more than the half-expected nul-points!), and plans later on (in the autumn?) to cut a brand new album for Appleseed to follow the acclaimed There Was A Time. But Year Of The Big Wind is so much more than a stop-gap record, even though it's but a modest, self-released venture. In all but name, it's Bare Bones III - the mere thought of which will set Tom's fans drooling with expectation I'm certain. Though recorded in Woodstock, NY, Year Of The Big Wind oozes the south-by-southwest, with its roll-call of (sometimes tall) stories of life's real characters, their survival and endurance in often desperate places against all the odds. Uncanny evocations and solid philosophies, fractured memories and forlorn experiences, these are all encapsulated within contemporary America, described by one commentator as "a weird new Twilight Zone" - a highly apt comparison, given Tom's penchant for thoughtful sci-fi. The album contains 15 tracks, of which 13 have never been recorded before (and since the remaining two include his classic Bird's Eye Heaven I'm not complainin'!). And lordy, there's not a remotely weak song on here, whereas some of them will I'm sure take their place amongst his finest creations. Tom's voice and guitars are helpfully and colourfully augmented by a variety of guitars, dobro and mandolin played by The Band's Jim Weider. Top-quality Americana in every respect, and Tom's strongly individual talent reigns supreme. Like the indomitable characters that populate his songs, Tom just keeps on keeping on. All that's missing from the package is the lyrics… and you can get those off Tom's website.???? Do buy this CD, either from Tom himself through the website or from Graeme at Fairoaks (http://www.angelfire.com/music5/roots2rockmusic/rootsalbums.html#P), and in doing so you'll help Tom to finance his next record real soon!!
David Kidman
This is the first new solo album from Tom in three years, and while the production doesn't aspire to the intimate glories and pared-down heights of The Lost American Songwriter and its prequel Bare Bones And Barbed Wire, thankfully it nowhere approaches the sometimes overblown rock settings that beset some of Tom's previous offerings like Sunflowers And Scarecrows. I only mention the musical climate first in order to get it out of the way, rather than dismiss it, for it plays an important part in the project; it's the songs, however, that remain the focus, and quite honestly my thinking at the moment is that the 11 included here (along with Before There Was You, which didn't make it onto the album) are, even on a mere few plays, of a very high stature indeed, and possibly even qualify to rank among his very best.
As avowedly left-field songwriters go, Tom's undoubtedly one of the most individual, original and compelling, with a writing style that's literate (but not off-puttingly so) and passionate and a gruff yet attractively understated delivery that you gotta admit is unique (not to mention his guitar work, alternately richly delicate and "sensitively hammered"). As Tom himself explains in the detailed liner notes, most of the songs on There Was A Time "reflect the year I have lived through. They are not meant to be depressing. On the contrary, there are glimmerings of hope and spiritual resurrection in all of them." They're Tom's deep, at once personal and universal, reflections on the passage of time and this age of uncertainty following a series of personal tragedies. This quasi-theme is explored as Tom quite deliberately moves beyond nostalgia to "take stock of what's vanished and what needs to be recalled and reclaimed". The mixed emotions that this process can engender are especially poignantly explored in If I Could Come Back (shades of Tom's trademark philosophical sci-fi concepts here too) and the almost unbearably wistful Broken Piano, while no less than four other songs, including the opening Indian Prayer, examine different aspects of the betrayal or failure of the Great American Dream.
Two tracks - the hauntingly, floatingly light-textured Butterfly, a tribute to Julia Hill (a protester against the destruction of a giant Redwood) and Tom's "9/11" piece Heroes - could easily have been merely sentimental, but Tom manages to create something special here that carries meaningful resonances beyond the smaller, obvious picture. The title track, actually an extensive reworking of an earlier song, proves a devastating blend of gentle tenderness and bitter strength, cutting very deep indeed. The interaction of "genius loci" with acutely personal memories gives a very real perspective to Provincetown. And the finale (You Will Never Be Afraid Again) is an anthemic challenge to our fears expressed in unparalleled defiance.
I just haven't space to delve into the rest of the inexhaustible riches that this album yields. It's quintessential stuff I think you'll agree - and it just gets better every time you play it. Now I only briefly mentioned the excellent and sensibly restrained yet sufficiently full-sounding musical settings, but I also need to praise the telling supporting contributions of Pete Seeger (banjo), Richard Bell (piano, organ), Jay Ungar (fiddle) and Kevin Maul (dobro), together with Tom's long-time Norwegian collaborator Steinar Albrigtsen and the fine rhythm section of Scott Petito (the album's producer) and Jerry Marotta, A great-sounding album with some great and massively inspiring songs - what more could you want? - and if this doesn't get heard enough to elevate Tom beyond cult status into the wider consciousness of the discerning musical public, then there really ain't no justice.
David Kidman
Tom Pacheco has a loyal following where country flavoured singer songwriters hold sway. He appears in intimate clubs that others have passed by, passed on, or, indeed, can't make because they've passed away. Yes, he's mentioned in the same breath as John Prine, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle et al.
What of this new release? Well, Tom has lost his mother, his father has been seriously ill and three friends died in the September 11th disaster. So, you might guess that listeners won't find him in 'Mr Happy' mode. For example, 'Provincetown' comes complete with lyrics like 'I can't bear the thought of rain falling on your grave' in a beautiful song dealing with death. Yes, I said beautiful. Often, beauty comes out of a response to tragedy. Needless to say to say, titles like 'I Want To Come Back', 'What We Left Behind' and the title track make it clear that this record deals with loss. It pulls at the heart strings and despite his rather trite response to September 11th on 'Heroes', generally, Tom's loss is our gain.
Steve Henderson
The Pack - Twelve Little Devils (Selwyn Music)
The Pack is a twelve-strong group of indecently talented young people who, "hell-bent" on succeeding, have stormed festival stages over the past three or so years, winning everyone over with their vivacious and totally committed performances of traditional and composed material, mostly tunes. (They number within their ranks 422's Sam Pirt and Ola's Michael Jary, but I shouldn't need to tell you that each and every one of them's a damnably good musician.) Even in the cold light of CD, it's obvious they're having a great time, and their enthusiasm and enjoyment is very infectious indeed. Not only is the individual playing well nigh faultless, and their ensemble precise, but the inventiveness of the arrangements, wherein different instrumental timbres are played off against each other, is a real strength too. Brass players, squeezebox players, woodwinders, fiddlers – you name it, they've got it; and the let's have-a-go spirit informs the very philosophy they apply to the sources they trawl, for they play anything they fancy and can pick up, being the widely travelled little devils they are. This can mean Irish, Scottish, American, Canadian, Scandinavian, Turkish, whatever – and so what/why not? (I like the way they credit their sources properly in the insert notes too.) It all makes for invigorating listening, and 'tis truly a glorious noise when the whole ensemble plays together, as on their showpiece Congress Reel set. And apart possibly from the two purely vocal tracks and the theatrical Devil Came Down To Yorkshire, which sound a bit like extracts from a sixth-form end-of-term show-off concert (albeit a superior one!), the whole album proves a fun experience that's surely repeatable outside the context of the sheer weight of the Pack's live presence.
David Kidman
This is weird. It starts out with a luscious adagio violin melody that sounds like it comes from a Schubert string quartet, then in comes a casual walking backbeat, then a lazy (if at the same time restless) vocal and rippling mandolins filling out the backcloth. The second song marries Parisian café accordion with that same backbeat and some twenties-jazzy instrumentation and harmonies. Two separate tracks later on are waltzy instrumentals that I'm sure I know from somewhere, with more of that café accordion. The album moves on through bossa-nova, salsa and Satie-esque piano interludes to the accompaniment of further seductive café rhythms. But seekers after an answer to the enigma will find that it's impossible to find anything out at all from Gregory's own website, which redirects us to his MySpace site, which in turn carries next to no information. All I can find out comes from the label's website: ie. that Gregory's a London-born, Southern California-based singer-songwriter, who - at least on the evidence of Love Made Me Drunk - specialises in retro-sounding ultra-melancholy songs that reek with the heady ambience of the near-timeless Parisian café environment. He describes his songs as musical postcards: and that's not a bad description really. The primary colours of his palette are accordion, swooning violin, cheeky jazzy trumpet and parlour-piano, delicious soupçons of mandolin and tinkling toyshop percussion with gently brushed drumkit. But the inspiration behind this album would seem, at least from the information given on the Seedling website biog page, to be a bit of a one-off and thus not entirely typical of Gregory's work elsewhere. Here's Gregory's own explanation of its genesis: "The real story behind Love Made Me Drunk is a bittersweet and beautiful tale. At the age of 30, my mother informed me that the man I thought was my father was in actuality my stepfather, and though she knew nothing of my real father's whereabouts she gave me his name. After a great deal of searching I found that his father was living in Paris, and a reunion was arranged. On my first walk with Papa through a city park we talked about life ... Papa stopped and said son, you are in love with love, and I replied, Papa, that is a great song title. Reflecting back, I realized that I have such a fond memory about each of the songs on the CD, and I can recall where I was and what I was thinking when I composed them in Paris and Normandy." Love Made Me Drunk was recorded in Gregory's tiny bedroom in San Diego, and its impact is powerfully immediate, if rather idiosyncratic; it may even make you slightly drunk yourself...
www.myspace.com/gregorypageDavid Kidman September 2007
There's an underlying and somehow magicl truthfulness about Brad Paisley's latest release, 5th Gear. It's not so much a musician knowing his limits and sticking to them because as far as country music goes, Paisley's talents are pretty well boundless. It's more that he draws strength from staying close to what always had made great country music. Instead of looking too far over the horizon for inspiration, he finds it in exactly the same places that the greats who preceded him looked, love, home, country and heartache.
So although Paisley gives 5th Gear a 21st century veneer with Online, it's heart lies in a fantastic no frills, country album, great guitars, straight talking lyrics and a voice that has already garnered 10 Grammy nominations. On 5th Gear, Paisley bares his soul completely with the ballad Like It Did and has a thoroughly good time with the rollicking honky-tonk of Mr Policeman and, while that may all sound a bit dated, Paisley not only makes it work perfectly he keeps it fresh adn alive, largely because there's not a hint of cynicism to taint songs like If Love Was A Plane, when the singer believes in it as much as Paisley does, it's easier and comforting just to give yourself to its feelings. Admittedly there is no Whiskey Lullaby on 5th Gear - songs like that come along once in a lifetime - however, there is much to savour, the fun of Better Than This is tempered by the exquisite layers of With You, Without You.
It has to be admitted that those who sneer at the sentiments expressed by country music, will find plenty of ammunition on 5th Gear, it is unashamedly old school. There's even a heartfelt piece of gospel, When We All Get To Heaven, it's an album that pulls no punches in its adherence to tradition. What the cynics fail to realise - to their cost - is that Brad Paisley makes music from the heart and that music will be listened to long after they're forgotten.
Michael Mee July 2007
Brad Paisley - Time Well Wasted (Arista)
On his last CD, Mud On the Tires, Brad Paisley recorded what was probably the best modern-day country song. His duet with Alison Krauss of Jon Randall's Whisky Lullaby was, quite rightly, lauded from pillar to post, it encapsulated everything you could look for.
The challenge for him now is to meet that benchmark with Time Well Wasted and it has to be said that, while there isn't a Whisky Lullaby, the irony of the CD's title is not lost, Paisley is wasting neither time nor opportunity. Avowedly mainstream, Brad Paisley will surely cement his place at Nashville's top table, evidence of that comes with the collaborators on Time Well Wasted, Alan Jackson and Dolly Parton, country royalty indeed.
The difference between Time And Well Wasted and Mud On The Tires, is that the jewel in the crown comes from the pen of Paisley himself, Alcohol is the kind of all-consuming country song that will have a queue of would-be coverers beating a path to his door.
Paisley is blessed with a warm, engaging if unthreatening voice, perfectly suited to the melodic ballads of Time Well Wasted.
Paisley's traditional, establishment country music will not suit the alternative school and She's Everything does flirt dangerously with schmaltz, however there is something undeniably appealing about it all. What Brad Paisley perhaps lacks in raw excitement, he more than compensates for with the beauty of Time Well Wasted.
Michael Mee
Rockabilly is not new (but what is these days?) but it's huge fun and I bet those Paladins were smiling when they recorded their seventh album, Palvoline No.7. I sure was whilst I was listening to it! Who needs techno-driven rubbish? This is put-on-your-dancing-shoes-and-party music which captures the spirit of early country-style rock'n'roll with its twangy guitars, punchy drumming, and uptempo melodies played with verve and style. It's the real thing.
Paladins home is San Diego, California, but this hard-working 3-piece band (Dave Gonzalez on guitar and vocals, Thomas Yearsley on bass and Brian Fahey on drums) tour worldwide. Their fifth album, the 'live' The Million Mile Club, is a reference to all those miles on the roads and thousands of gigs played. Guests on No.7: James Hunter (also known as rocking English R&B performer Howlin' Wilf) joins them for a duet, Micah Hulsher sits in (though you feel he's bound to be standing) for a Jerry Lee Jewis-style wrecker of a piano piece on 'How Long You Gonna Tease Me', and Chris Lawrence's heart-tearing steel guitar on 'Gone', all add flavour to this high-octane brew.
It's encouraging to know that, with so many releases from 'back catalogue', this roots-rock revival band, formed in the 80s rather than the 50s, have captured the imagination of a new generation of fans - me included!
Sue Cavendish
What is it with Polydor and female singer songwriters with strange sounding names beginning with N. After Dreamworks's eccentric diva Nelly Furtado now comes this Brit with the silent t and a guitar bearing the legend 'be not half assed'. An even more idiosyncratic debut album than Nelly's, it's no less intoxicating and intriguing, throwing up a clutch of reference points that sail through Tori Amos, Joni Mitchell, Rickie Lee Jones and, she'd add Carole King, Dylan, The Beatles and Steely Dan. There's a touch of the 'I'm a bit mad, me' to the girl whose songs gleefully scatter across such topics as ambition, the music business's soul-sucking nature, bad boys, death, Jesus, alienation, self-destructive tendencies, guilt (I'd make a bet she's Catholic) and, on Watch Out Billie, surely a cautionary tale of 15 minutes of fame directed at our very own Mrs Christopher Evans. A little bit jazz, a little bit pop, a little bit intense, a little bit spry, you could argue her songs are a touch pretentious and slightly overwritten, but what you can't dispute is that Daily Bread, Jump, Blood Is Blood and the title track have an intelligence and emotional resonance - and indeed musical perfection - that suggest Ms Pallot is at the start of what promises to be a very lengthy and rewarding career.
Mike Davies
Angie's already regarded by many as one of this country's finest female singer-songwriters, yet although her three previous albums gained increasing numbers of plaudits and significantly healthy airplay (Bob Harris being her most recent radio champion) she's still not yet quite made it into the wider consciousness of the nation. Tales Of Light And Darkness, her fourth album, is a work of considerable maturity and ought by rights to gain her that recognition. Although Angie's music still falls between readily-pigeonholeable stools, as it were, that shouldn't count against her as each successive album brings another different element of her musical personality out into the forefront. Angie moves easily between gentle folky rootsy Americana and more aggressive country-blues, even hinting at bluesy-rock, and virtually all points in between, and equally plausible in any of these idioms. In many ways, Tales ... is like Road part two in many respects, with the superb playing of violinist Richard Curran common to both albums. On Tales ... Angie's trusty backing crew also includes Steve Buckley (electric guitar, dobro, lap steel), Ollie Collins (basses) and Tim Franks (drums), who together stretch out almost leisurely fashion to create an at times monumental backdrop for Angie's stories, each of which is a strong creation with its own separate identity. Once again all the songs were co-written with Paul Mason, displaying the high level of intelligence and literacy (both musical and lyrical) that we've come to associate with Angie's work. Some (like Fool's Gold and Down On Zero Street) embody a Dylanesque sense of narrative sweep, whereas Rose Of Sharon evokes Steinbeckian visions of the dispossessed. Some other songs have overtones of Joni Mitchell perhaps, with their homing in on altogether more personal journeys of love, loss and redemption; many, like Letters From Home, are highly reflective and steeped in the restless sense of a necessary moving-on that's very much tempered with realism. There are darker moments too, like Ravens, where the lover's desperation is conveyed with a rather Poe-esque severe beauty of imagery, and Premonition Blues with its looser feel and its old-timey, homespun philosophy of resignation. Columbus For A Day, perhaps the most personal statement of all, deals simply and poignantly with the death of a close friend. Throughout this range of emotions, Angie's voice proves ideally expressive, displaying a deep, worldly, gritty toughness with a distinctly tender edge - she's been compared to Lucinda Williams, but I think Angie's expressive potential is probably more akin to that of Julie Miller. So here's another impressive, highly assured set from Angie, housed in a neat and attractive digipack - high production and presentation values rule as before!
David Kidman
Barely two years after releasing an unbelievably mature second CD (Romantica Obscura), Angie now steams along with a third, which, as its title might be taken to indicate, is less a stop-off at the Crossroads than a timely drive down the highway of rootsy Americana with no more than a passing visit to the heartland of the blues along the way. This time, Angie's penned all the material herself in collaboration with Paul Mason, and her writing is characterised by an uplifting optimism that's tempered by realism, giving rise to a neat kinda vibe of loose rollin' on, movin' on through life, that runs through the album like that very road. Just as on Romantica Obscura, Angie ably demonstrates her innate musicality and her credibly canny way of varying the textures and tempos within the span of the album. The opening Footprints In The Snow, an uptempo slice of homespun cautionary philosophy, comes complete with a jangly momentum that marries Desire-era Dylan with Untitled-era Byrds. This cut exemplifies the sensitive and empathic approach taken by Angie's backing band The Revelators (whose lineup doesn't contain a single John, but does include Richard Curran on violin and mandolin!), who accompany her on Road. Additionally, and notwithstanding the considerable expertise of her four-piece band, Angie keeps the backings delightfully sparse for the most part, and on one or two cuts (When You Call, and especially Less Than I Need You) I sense she's been taking lessons from the Gillian Welch book of restraint (the latter might well have been a lost GW outtake!). The tender Satellites, more in the soft-rock mould, could almost have come from the pen of Chris While or Julie Matthews, and gives Angie a chance to show just how fine a singer she is, on a range that takes in husky, full-throated and head-voice with equal power and conviction. Fishtails is a kind of 12-bar Subterranean Homesick roller (superb guitar work from Mark Townson here, by the way) that comes on like a bluesier Thea Gilmore, while the country-shuffle of The Ballad Of Love And Strife marries an airy, catchy Lindisfarney mandolin riff to a familiar, pithy contemporary morality. The drifting chords of Followed Down Sundown convey so well the lyric's combination of carefree confidence and scary uncertainty (Rebecca Maunder's cello is used to good effect here). Finally, the more lengthy but compelling Down The Street Of The Cat Who Fished is a cryptic and knowing Joni-esque parable. A most impressive and highly assured third album from Angie, housed in a really attractive arty digipack sleeve; and it's high time her distinctive talents were discovered and feted further outside her native north-west.
David Kidman
Angie's name isn't at all well-known outside the north-west, but all that ought by rights to change now, for there's an incredible sense of assurance and mature accomplishment about her current work that's obvious right from the outset on this, her second CD; it turns out that she's got more than 15 years' experience on the music scene (8 years of busking/festivals, followed by a mix of solo performances and fronting a band). Her first album (A Certain Kind Of Distance) was released a couple of years ago; it was a solo effort - just Angie, her exciting, feisty voice and her acoustic guitar, and though displaying distinct influences in performing styles (vocally, Joan Armatrading and Bonnie Raitt, instrumentally John Martyn), she nevertheless demonstrated considerable individuality here and in her songwriting. This new release, though recognisably the work of the same artist, is quite different, not only in that it's less overtly bluesy.
Firstly, it consists entirely of her own songs, which indicates that Angie's defiantly growing in confidence. Secondly, Angie's here taken the opportunity to record with musicians from the aforementioned Manchester scene - Mike Isaac (who works with Lyrica) on fretless bass is particularly good, then there's Chris Mannis (ex-Swing Out Sister, now with Apitos) on percussion, also drummer Tim Franks, Graham Clark on violin and Rebecca Maunders on cello, and keyboardist Bill Roberts. Though from different musical arenas, they work together really well, and the instrumentation is well-considered and never unduly dominant, providing perfectly controlled settings for Angie's grittily expressive voice and doing her songs (the "hidden stories" to which the title neatly alludes) true justice.
A lot of thought has gone into the arrangements, which cleverly vary texture and effect from the jazzy organ-bop optimism of Notes From Underground to the darker, more introspective, even mournful mood of the last few tracks like A Thousand Tales (where the string instruments bring in a delicate eastern modal feel that's really attractive) and the deceptively simple, deliciously chamber-textured Waltz (which isn't quite!), whereas the swooping violin lines on From A Blue Plains View rather reminded me of Dylan circa Desire. Angie quite reasonably acknowledges a debt to Joni Mitchell (Hissing/Hejira period), but nowhere does her own outstanding writing sound in the slightest bit imitative. Angie's music is hard to pigeonhole, nor would I wish to do so; just get hold of this uncommonly fine album right away.
David Kidman
An unwieldy and pretentious title for what is actually one of the most charming and satisfying of all acid-folk treasures of the early 70s, now given a newly expanded re-release by the admirable Sunbeam label (in fact, the LP's most comprehensive edition yet, incorporating no less than seven bonus tracks). Putting it into perspective first, COB stood for Clive's Own Band, the Clive being Clive Palmer - formerly of the Incredible String Band (on whose very first album he appeared, but left shortly thereafter to travel the East, as one was wont to do in those days). The lineup was completed by Clive's mates from the Cornwall folk scene John Bidwell (also of Famous Jug Band, and later Lazy Farmer) and Mick Bennett, and the three were augmented by Demelza and Genny Val Baker on this record, which was produced by none other than Ralph McTell (oh, and Danny Thompson played double bass on a couple of tracks). Moyshe McStiff was the band's second LP: Spirit Of Love, its predecessor, had come out on CBS, but to an indifferent reception, and the eccentric titling of album number two (together with unaccountably indifferent distribution from Polydor) didn't exactly endear folks to seek it out. Which was a pity, for it contained some exceedingly imaginative and original music, with some unusual and intriguing vocal harmonies coaxed from the three band members' disparate voices counterpointing their individual and collective skills on a fairly large range of different musical instruments. One of these was a unique COB innovation - the dulcitar, which was (in essence) a dulcimer with a widened bridge (to increase the surface over which the strings could vibrate - hence the distinctive, if odd, droning sound that permeates several COB tracks, complementing the harmonium). The intimate, yet fully inclusive sound the trio made was like almost no other band of the time (though it perhaps had, albeit superficially, elements in common with Forest, and gently epic songs like Martha And Mary had distinct overtones of the ISB). And overall, although the LP may have been intended - at least to some extent - as a religious and contemplative concept album, the predominant feel is uplifting and rather playful. Ralph himself felt the album "a little too out there even for those enlightened times", and listening to the album today one can sense something of what it means, for its music hasn't really dated at all. As for the bonus cuts: they comprise both sides of the quirky, somewhat reggaefied single Blue Morning/Bones, and five intermittently flaky tracks which were recorded prior to the album sessions, in a caravan in the woods near Falmouth of all places. These "caravan recordings" (which include an alternative version of Solomon's Song) are still musically noteworthy and particularly well worth having (not merely for completeness). As ever, Ralph has both the benefit of close association and hindsight, and the perfect way of summing up COB as being "about three guys living in the middle of nowhere who somehow came up with this music".
David Kidman December 2007
Ooh, am I glad to see this one finally make it to CD! It's one of those records which can justifiably be regarded as a great lost folk album, a highly treasurable artefact that has for so long been a vital yet missing piece in the wondrous and kaleidoscopic musical jigsaw of late-60s UK folk music activities. Clive Palmer, of course, was more than just a founder member of the Incredible String Band; he's been accurately dubbed "the all-round maverick genius of the British folk scene", after all.
When the three members of the ISB embarked separately on their sojourns in 1966, Clive decided not to rejoin Robin and Mike due to what might best be described as converging musical interests, and when the following year he was approached by independent producer Peter Eden to record a solo record, Banjoland was the result. Its tracklisting was unusually eclectic - unexpectedly so, even to an admirer of Clive's work - and focused on many of the older songs and pieces in Clive's repertoire. In the largely radical-experimental musical climate of the time, Banjoland can be seen as determinedly unfashionable, whimsical, old-fashioned even; in it grooves there was no evidence of the contemporaneous psychedelic revolution - which was the principal reason why record labels fought shy of it, and thus why it never saw the light of day at the time! Defiantly uncommercial, and taking its cue from the delightful virtuoso romp Niggertown on the first ISB album, Banjoland's predominant musical texture is (inevitably) solo banjo, and its 13 tracks deliciously and unpredictably intersperse a number of such pieces (traditional in origin, but not necessarily from the English tradition) with music-hall songs (Boy In The Gallery), a couple of songs learnt from old 78s by Irish tenor John McCormack (I Hear You Calling Me, Ma-Koush-La) and songs that Clive recalled from his schooldays (Stories Of Jesus, Smiling Through).
There's also a brace of folk carols (eg Coventry Carol) which give the lie to the oft-held view that a banjo can't do sensitive! It's a feast alright, with interest enhanced even further by the presence of Wizz Jones on guitar on a handful of the tracks, whereas Stories Of Jesus is also blessed with a moving string quartet arrangement by jazzer Michael Gibbs. This splendid CD issue contains the whole of the original Banjoland album, plus four bonus tracks: two from a Country Meets Folk radio session with Wizz, and two recorded informally at Wizz's house around the same time as the album recording. Banjoland just has to be one of this year's key reissues, not least because its contents so effortlessly demonstrate the virtue of simplicity and unpretentiousness in music-making; as Wizz himself opines in his booklet note, Clive "has all the technique you could ask for, but the trick is having it and not using it".
www.incrediblestringband.comDavid Kidman, July 2006
Clive Palmer - All Roads Lead To Land (Unique Gravity)
Clive was, along with Mike Heron and Robin Williamson, an original member of the Incredible String Band. That much most of you will know. And since leaving the band right after their first album release (1965), he's embarked on a series of often strange and esoteric projects which reflected his various enthusiasms (Clive's Original Band, the Famous Jug Band, various collaborations with Pete Berryman and so on), sometimes living the life of a virtual recluse until he returned to these shores – and the recording arena – a short few years ago with a fine duo album with Robin (At The Pure Fountain), since which he has joined the re-formed incarnation of the ISB, to which he (unlike Robin, sadly) still belongs to this day. Many, myself included, are glad to have Clive back on the performing and recording scene, and a new solo album, All Roads Lead To Land, is the latest fruit of his musical labours. On it Clive gives us an almost completely solo set that really does reflect, in a glowing and sympathetic recording, his consistently endearing musical personality. Naturally his trusty banjo looms large in the sound-picture, chugging along reliably (and with characteristic gentle insistency) on (mostly self-penned) material that typically ranges far and wide, from Famous Jug Band (a remake of O For Summer, on which he's reunited with original FJB colleagues Johnson, Berryman and Bartlett) to the darker-hued eerie String-Bandom of Sands Of Time and a timely, relaxed revisit to the latter-day nostalgic whimsy of Paris (with musical guests including tenor sax, accordion and double-bass, and even fiddle courtesy of good old Robin W). There's also a take on Vaughan Williams' setting of William Barnes' poem Linden Lea that displays a fine degree of simple poignancy (even if vocally Clive's not quite up to the task), while the handful of instrumental tracks bring a sensitivity that's perhaps not automatically associated with banjo players (check out Clive's version of Gershwin's Embraceable You for instance, or Broken Dreams whose fragmented poetic phrasing uncannily puts me in mind of the "Chinese banjo" interlude on the epic White Bird from the ISB's wondrous Changing Horses album). Clive also varies the texture by giving his home-made Northumbrian pipes a solitary but welcome airing, to provide an accompanying drone for the wordless Breizh (which seems to share an aural kinship with much of the post-Palmer ISB's celebrated Be Glad film soundtrack). Maybe at over six minutes Baby Sing The Blues outstays its welcome a tad, but generally speaking on All Roads Lead To Land, what you hear is what you get – an admirably honest no-frills testament to an ever-intriguing musical mind whose undeniable charm draws you in at once and keeps you engaged throughout this CD's 51-minute span. In other words, then, Clive's pocket's not empty yet, baby!…
David Kidman
Clive Palmer - All Roads Lead To Land (Unique Gravity)
Old fogies and unreconstructed hippies will, of course, recall that banjo player Palmer was the other founding member of the Incredible String Band way back in 1965 before taking off for India. Returning a few years later he formed the brief lived Famous Jug Band and then the imaginatively named Clive's Original Band with whom he released three albums. Adopting a low profile for the next two decades, he resurfaced at the end of the millennium to reunite with Robin Williamson for a couple of gigs and the At The Pure Fountain album. A spate of reformed ISB gigs followed before Williamson dropped out leaving Palmer and Heron to carry the flag. Meanwhile, he's found time to put together this solo self-penned affair that also sees Williamson providing fiddle of on the wistfully reflective Paris and his former FSB colleagues on the opening banjo plucked lament O For Summer.
His laconic voice a rich loamy thing of ploughman's honesty and hedgerow charm, the music's basically stripped back old school folk with occasional mountain bluegrass colourings. Otherwise, the lyric free Breizh adopts an Eastern gone Celtic drone, You Were Meant For Me (not the Herman's Hermits number) could have strayed in off a Leon Redbone album with Big City Blues harking to roads long dusty before Guthrie travelled them and Baby Sing The Blues a laid back strummed hammock, back porch and rocking chair affair.
Being a banjo philistine I have to admit not quite getting the charms of some of the instrumentals, Dans La Campagne sounding like he's practising the scales and Lament For Shelly something I'd have assumed was a recording of him tuning up. Buffs will obviously be rather more ecstatic. That aside though, this is all together rather fine.
Mike Davies
Discovered by Clint Boon of Inspiral Carpets who released her debut on his own label, the Yorkshire singer-songwriter is back with her sophomore release. It's a more wide ranging affair than Into The Spotlight, featuring members of Lamb on double bass, cello, drums and electric bass while Palmer takes on classical guitar, accordion, harmonium, chimes, and piano duties for a set of songs that run from the intimate In To You and Homefair Blues to the relatively more full-blooded arrangements of the shuffling Blue Sky and tinklingly countrified uptempo In Your Company.
Her soothing, plaintive voice still evokes thoughts of Melanie and the folksily romantic songs remain rooted in exploring the ups and downs of relationships and self-confidence, their textures firmly influenced by the fact she wrote them in a reflective mood while living on the coast. Taking its cue from the title, the album has a gentle lapping quality, rippling, ebbing and flowing through sometimes uncertain emotions, searching for that sense of security, solace and belonging that informs Harbour of Refuge and the shimmeringly lovely closing track, Resting Ground.
Ideally, the likes of Terease, Morning Love and the back porch strumming hymnal Some Deadly Sin should be listened to with a chilled white wine by your side as you sit outside in the early morning salty tanged air, letting the fresh breeze of dawn brush your hair and the smell of lilac curl into your senses, but what the hell, it still sounds great in the living room too.
Mike Davies, June 2006
Elaine Palmer - Into The Spotlight (Booney Tunes)
The Yorkshire singer-songwriter's unintended debut album (it was supposed to be just a demo session) may have been produced by Inspiral Carpets man Clint Boon and released on his own label, but don't expect her to sound like them. Rather, recorded in just one take (and in one instance the first time she'd played the song in ages), here is a muscularly emotive voice and musical style often reminiscent of Melanie (with a touch of Michelle Shocked perhaps) dealing in intimate, introspective but snarly songs that deal with the struggles with self-confidence and the harder, uglier sides of love and relationships.
Simple yet sensitive arrangements for guitar and the occasional moody cello afford a darkling folk feel to her work, occasionally tinged with hints of late night smoky jazz and shades of Brel. Tender and angry, often at the same time, the songs repay attention (and since she apparently doesn't write her lyrics down you'll have to if you want to prise out their themes) as she delivers such dazzling heart-mapping numbers as Sometimes, Love and Lies, Deja Vu and her stunning seven minute live highlight Space Girls. She's little known yet, but take note this is one of the most exciting new talents to emerge since Thea Gilmore applied for work experience.
Mike Davies
Considering the utterly unmistakable quality of Tom's singing voice, I'm immediately wondering why I'd not encountered him previously, and why it should now take a high-profile CD (the inaugural release on Phil Beer's new record label) for his name to be getting spread around widely - something he's evidently deserved for some time.
Tom's background story turns out to be an unusual one, in that he trained as a chef before taking up singing and songwriting full-time. Early on, he formed a four-piece band, played in a duo and plied his trade back and forth between South West and South East coasts before meeting Phil at the Cambridge Folk Festival in the 90s, since which time Tom and Phil recorded an album together (1995) and continued their friendship through into Tom's guest appearance with Show Of Hands at the Royal Albert Hall last year. Now settled once again in the West Country, and with this excellent CD under his belt, Tom's all set to achieve wider appreciation of his considerable talents.
The cover photo gives a good and accurate measure of the man - Tom almost looks like he might be a third member of Show Of Hands, but most of all he's a big man with a big musical personality. His gravelly and deeply, powerfully resonant voice is an extraordinary instrument, and his guitar playing is emphatically no second-string, accomplished and satisfying in its own right. Those latter-named qualities characterise the whole project, in fact - and although they might be taken as given with any record that so heavily features the expert musicianship and acute production skills of that good Mr. Beer, it's still Tom's individual musical and songwriting voice that (quite rightly) grants the album its most distinctive signature.
Tom's voice is very definitely individual, and although its tonal quality at times approximates that of Mr Waits a closer comparison to my mind is the intense soulfulness of John Martyn combined with the rootsy bluesy sensibility of Ry Cooder and a touch of Mark Knopfler or Ben Harper, but often with a folkier bent than either of the latter. This eponymous album sets out Tom's stall very persuasively, with a diverse collection of songs that movingly explore time-honoured themes from the human condition such as trust (Static On The Line), friendship (Standing Strong, Something You Said, Correspondence), war (Blood In The Dirt), and the lure of both home and away (Beacon Cove and Home are supremely evocative in their different ways). There's also a true-story-in-song about one man's resilience and persistence in the face of adversity (Dakka Dan). Only the funky workout That Thing seems a bit of a throwaway, and it rather outstays its welcome for me (it's more obviously a live showstopper) - the remainder of the CD's eleven self-penned songs are fine examples indeed.
Tom also treats us to two cover versions, and his album-closer rendition of Borderline (John Hiatt/Ry Cooder) is both outstanding and seriously sublime. Borderline features some exceptional slide guitar work from Phil B, who also contributes virtuoso fiddle, dobro, Spanish guitar, lau, mandocello, etc throughout the record. Miranda Sykes excels on double bass on four tracks, and there are nicely-turned cameo appearances from Steve Knightley (cuatro on two tracks), Jackie Oates (viola on Something You Said) and Tom's daughter Holly (backing vocals on Beacon Cove).
This is a very handsome album, chock-full of great - and often very moving - songs and some great, and really characterful, singing; with its top-class production and ultra-attractive digipack presentation it should gain Tom much acclaim and a place amongst the "must-sees" when he tours (the sooner the better as far as I'm concerned!).
www.tom-palmer.co.uk
www.myspace.com/tompalmer
David Kidman March 2008
David Kidman December 2007
Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo – Bana Congo (Tumi Records) or is it Baba
At first, it sounds a fairly crazy idea to put together a Congolese guitarist and a Cuban trés player. Then again, we're not talking any old guitarist. Papa Noel was the mainstay for 20 years behind the legendary Franco And TPOK Jazz. Neither is Papi Oviedo a slouch. He's been acknowledged as the foremost trés player in the world. But, Congo meets Cuba? Not a mad idea but an obvious pairing when you consider how the Caribbean and Africa have cross-fertilised each other's music over the years.
The rolling title track, Bana Congo has an African feel to it but the following Kin Havene has a strong Cuban sound albeit the harmonising is African in flavour. Indeed, it's written by Papa Noel. So, that cross-fertilisation continues. I could sit and break out the various parts but the point here is that we're hearing two master musicians whipping up a real Afro-Cuban rhythm delight. So often, these meetings sound rather contrived as if they've never even met in the studio…and, sometimes, that's the case. However, there is a wonderful chemistry here that makes this a rather special recording. They're out and about in the summer with a large band but get this CD if you can't get to see them.
Steve Henderson
George began his songwriting career only as recently as 2001, but, over 180 songs later, his craft still continues to develop apace. With album number seven (his first for WildGoose), George's status as enviably prolific singer-songwriter hasn't dimmed one iota, and neither has the basically consistent quality of his output. In many ways, though, Life's Eyes is still very much quintessential George, for, like its predecessors, Life's Eyes showcases George's acute powers of observation, his right-on commonsense worldview, anger and compassion and essential humanity, all expressed in confidently colloquial language and musically shot through with the delightful winding contours of his by now unmistakeable melodies and guitar riffs. But George also cleverly rings the changes on this new record, with an increasingly adventurous approach to form and structure in particular. Here, the spiritual and musical pull of (An Emigrant's) Rebetiko (quite literally, "where Father Thames flows into the Mediterranean"), is considerable; that particular song, together with Tsamiko, shows George making increasing use of the piquant flavours and rhythms of the music of his native Greece, taking further confident steps out of the folk comfort-zone and into the realm of his own brand of world-music - yet entirely credibly, and without ever frightening the horses. On the remainder of the songs, George once again rides the emotional seesaw of modern-day living with absolute conviction, from caustic attacks on present-day society and attitudes (Another Day, Upwind Of Me) to wry and quirky slices-of-life (the experimental, intriguingly antiphonal Rush Hour) and poignantly many-faceted lyrical sketches (Late Spring). And once again George proves strong on heart-rending reminiscences where the personal is so expertly given a universal dimension (Regrets, written following the death of his father, and the unbelievably touching For A Friend). In truth, every song has something to commend it; but such is the impressive diversity of idioms that George essays in his quest for ideal musical settings, that there's almost bound to be, for any given listener, one song on the album which doesn't quite "do it" for him/her: in my case, I'll admit, it's Rozellas, a chirpy cha-cha-cha number evoking affectionate memories of those beautiful Australian birds (although this track is already garnering plenty of radio airplay so whaddoIknow?!). On the performance side, George has never sounded better, his already distinctive singing voice having matured from its diffident, even on occasion slightly fussy beginnings on albums one and two into a gloriously expressive vehicle that his superbly intricate and intrinsically musical guitar playing (six-and twelve-string) ideally counterpoints: as too does the supporting playing of his "Los Marbles" (sic!) colleagues Vicki Swan and Jonny Dyer, who present a subtly enhancing and ever-engaging musical backdrop (it's no coincidence that these two excellent young musicians are proving to be rather a mainstay of WildGoose output of late, and much in demand!). There are so many gorgeous details to discover: pithy lyric bites, felicitous twists and turns of phrase and melody, subtle aspects of instrumentation. This new disc is both a brave step and a proud achievement for George and his collaborators - and special mention for the extremely attractive artwork (by Hilary Bix) and George's excellent liner notes, all entirely typical of his careful attention to detail. Life's Eyes may at first seem to be something of a departure for this fairly "traditionally-slanted" label, but you only need to think back to its recordings of Mick Ryan, whose own original songs are already becoming regarded as "of the tradition", and the logic of George's appearance on WildGoose will become clear. George is an intelligent and unfailingly perceptive songwriter whose music genuinely sounds like none other's and deserves your close attention.
David Kidman March 2008
Not a fez in sight, but there are plenty of fluffy rabbits adorning the sleeve of this enterprising new offering from the self-deprecating, self-styled "fat Greek" who makes himself so many friends "just like that!" wherever he performs. Album number six sees this big-hearted and enviably prolific (162 and still counting!) songsmith fast developing his craft, both in terms of writing and arranging. (And that's an objective judgement, falling outwith my duty to provide a disclaimer for the abundant generosity of the namecheck credit which George bestows on me within the booklet.) Spurred on no doubt by the folk scene's growing recognition of his talent, George is now audibly taking more chances with his material, embarking (carefully) on ever more ambitious musical settings and structures for his songs while retaining a credible continuity of thematic concept. Even so, each song is still recognisably, intrinsically (and quintessentially) George, with that comfortable sense of conception and residence within recognisable musical traditions (here, those both of folk and pop song - for George has always subscribed to the widest possible definitions of what is "folk") counterpointed by the desire to challenge our preconceptions and philosophical parameters.
George bookends this new CD with examples of social commentary ancient and modern: the traditional A-Begging I Will Go - the album's sole non-original, and in that sense a new departure for George after five albums of entirely self-penned songs – balanced by End Of The Road, which (like the Streets of London of George's hero Ralph McTell) presents through its contemporary mirror image a modern-day counterpart/depiction of the problem; it's another folk classic in the making! George revisits his familiar theme of vocational folksong by tackling both historical (Glory Gone) and contemporary (Working Week and Last Train Home), and elsewhere ranges over harrowing family reminiscence (Baba), artistic tribute (Sing To Me Angelo), and several songs on the theme of lasting friendship including at least two profoundly touching tearjerkers (The Biggest Part Of Me and The Silence Of Friends). And though George's geniality and lively sense of humour is compassionate, he's also entirely capable of lashing out with a sensibly barbed commentary; cue Anytown, which is a savage indictment on contemporary living and the erosion, nay destruction of traditional values (to portray which erosion the song comes complete with some "unpleasant" electric guitar from Robb Johnson!). Landfall is a new departure, a veritable mini-suite in 4½ minutes, one section of which spotlights the lovely voice of Mary Humphreys.
Other collaborators deftly weaving intricate strands into George's rich musical tapestry include Anahata, Miranda Sykes, Saskia Tomkins, the wonderful duo Cloudstreet, Vicki Swan & Jonny Dyer, and Chris & Jude from Isambarde. Having mentioned that list, it needs to be emphasised that it's still George's perennially inventive guitar lines (both 6- and 12-string) that are firmly at the heart of the arrangements, any extra colours and other elements remaining at their service rather than the other way round. And the modest musicality (and yes, commendable restraint) of the arrangements ensures that the focus remains on the songs themselves – with George's own personality uppermost, naturally rather than on the personalities of other contributors. George's eclectic musical tastes have ensured his canny absorption of other musical idioms into his songs - Greek island music (There Will Be Dancing), courtly gavotte (Working Week), happy West Indian calypso (Watermelon Seeds), punky "urban folk" (Last Train Home).
Technically, perhaps some of the vocal harmonies are a tad forwardly balanced in comparison with the lead/melody line (Working Week, The Biggest Part Of Me), but this isn't as serious a criticism as it might appear. And I may have a personal quibble or two with this or that instrumental colour intruding momentarily, but it's a salutary reminder that I've been privileged to be able to follow the progress of many of the songs since initial demo stage, which necessarily gives me a biased perspective on any subsequent recorded version – after all, it's the end-product encapsulated on this on-sale CD that counts, and George and his engineer Martin Atkinson are to be credited heftily with producing a very listenable artefact. Tucked in cheekily at the very end of the CD there's even a neatly whimsical little hidden track too! The CD's whole presentation is eminently thoughtful in fact, and George's booklet notes are admirably informative in exactly the required manner, although it would have been useful to have identified the various duet vocalists by name on each relevant track since their individual contributions deserve to momentarily bask in the limelight and be properly recognised for their excellence.
After the release of his semi-retrospective CD Ordinary Heroes in late 2004, George had quite sensibly (in his own words) "vowed not to bring another album out unless (he) felt that it would somehow add something that was not just more of the same"; hence "with innocent courage (he) took some side roads", and the result is For My Next Trick. Although it turns out to be a long CD, it's a tribute to the diversity and consistency of George's writing that it seems not a minute too long. Even if there's often a sense that George's artistic development is proceeding so apace that he's saying that, just in case the muse were to desert him suddenly, you need to "remember him like this"!
David Kidman
It's but a few short months (four, to be exact) since I last sang the praises of this exceptional Buckinghamshire-based singer-songwriter, on the occasion of reviewing his fourth CD (and his best to date, in my opinion) Life As Usual. And now, in a month or so's time, he's already set to launch his fifth, Ordinary Heroes, on an unsuspecting world. Well hopefully not entirely unsuspecting, for many of you will have read on this site the reviews of his first four CDs, and (I trust) some of you will by now have bought some or all of them. So this review will of necessity be written partly from the point of view of someone who already really rates George and his work very highly, although it will inevitably also need to consider the first-timer who's never come across George before. That latter point is, I believe, doubly crucial to one's appreciation of this particular new release, for it marks an important stage in George's career.
It will be his first release on a label with "Proper" promotional backing (it's Robb Johnson's Irregular imprint), so he's deliberately made it with a wider potential audience in mind. I'll emphasise that this statement of intent, to enable that wider audience to "find a way in", has entailed no dumbing-down or artistic compromise, but it has meant that within those self-imposed parameters George has gone all out for optimum accessibility. In other words, firstly to ensure a maximum variety and listenability within the songs on offer, in terms both of subject matter and treatment and of interest within the actual musical settings. So, aside from a very few tracks on which George either performs alone or with absolutely minimal backing, Ordinary Heroes will not sound quite like the George we know (and love) from those earlier CDs. Basically, George has been granted leave to take the concept of employing other musicians just that bit further than on the limited experiments of Life As Usual. Here he's been blessed with the talents of Robb's "trio mates" Saskia Tomkins and Miranda Sykes, on violin, viola and double-bass and backing vocals between them; they crop up on many of the tracks, and their contributions lend a classy, polished, almost classic-chansonnier flavour to the proceedings, with voices that as often as not sit surprisingly well with George's own pleasingly idiosyncratic, highly individual delivery. Also appearing are Nicole Murray and John Thompson (aka. Cloudstreet) and singer Moira Craig, together with a bunch of folkie friends who'd previously guested on Life As Usual - Anahata (cello, concertina, melodeon) and singers Johnny Collins, Graeme Knights and John Breeze. What a team!
By and large, the arrangements (which thankfully are not over-the-top) work nicely in the service of the songs and the various contributions are managed with thoughtfulness, taste and sensitivity, but one or two isolated moments (incidental effects) are matters of minor detail which sound fine first time but don't stand up as well to repeated listening (rather like a joke when you know the punch-line that's coming). I'd emphasise that these are points which may well not occur to those coming to George's music for the first time (let's be honest, not every listener readily responds to just one man and a guitar!), and which are more of concern to those of us who already know George's earlier recordings. This isn't quite "George on holiday", taking a childlike delight in being let loose in a big studio, but there's a gleeful abandon with which he revisits (and pretty effectively too) seven songs from his existing recorded output which have hitherto been much requested and which are among those most likely to succeed as a calling-card to that wider musical public out there. Two of these have already been covered by "star" performers - Empty-Handed by Andy Irvine and The Flowers And The Guns by Vin Garbutt - whereas the others contain some of George's most enduring writing. The poignant nostalgia of Circles In The Air is perfectly conveyed by the song's revised pacing, while on the other hand I'm not entirely convinced (yet) by the ramshackle countryish back-porch syncopated swing arrangement that's meant to convey folk club conviviality on Friends Like These, although it has its own internal logic and is great fun taken on its own terms.
The brand-new songs on this CD contain several real gems - the jauntily sinister Bite Of The Underdog, the lovely - and welcomingly not over-sentimentalised - memoir Christmas Day, the philosophical Put In The Hours and the movingly simple love song/prayer Ending Of The Day that so aptly closes the CD with its lovingly crafted Vaughan Williams/Tallis-like melody line. I've more than once ventured my opinion that the high standard of George's songwriting already assures it a place of honour within the contemporary folk tradition - no idle claim, you'll feel, if you take my recommendation and treat yourself to one (or better still, all!) of George's CDs. If you're new to George, then Ordinary Heroes might well be the one to start with, although I feel sure you'll then immediately want to backtrack to the earlier ones to discover the pure, unadulterated George, which you can then do with ease and impunity!
David Kidman
David Kidman
Here's another really good singer/songwriter who's all but unknown outside his home patch and richly deserves wider recognition. How many times do you hear reviewers make that claim, I hear you say, cynically… Well, if I were pushed, I'd probably describe George as belonging to the "old school" of songwriting in that his stock-in-trade is the old-fashioned kind of quality songsmithery that everyone can relate to, as opposed to the more exclusive (and excluding) overt-confessional-soapbox mode that we're perhaps more used to nowadays. That's not to say that George is in any way politically naïve, or that his outlook is without conscience, but he is more concerned with lasting values than transient trends or parading activism; he takes genuine delight in simple pleasures. And yet… George hadn't written a song in his life before just over two years ago, but since then has produced no less than three CDs of his songs, all self-performed. The latest, Silent Majority, has been released on the new UNLaBELLED offshoot of Robb Johnson's Irregular label (this in itself should straightaway be taken as an indication of the man's quality, right?), which should ensure wider potential circulation. George has always been involved with music, being first exposed to folk clubs in the 70s before living abroad for some years, but it was his return to the UK in late 2000 and his discovery of the Herga and Maidenhead folk clubs and singers like Johnny Collins that proved the catalyst for a massive burst of creative writing that has continued apace up to this day (he's written some 80 songs to date, of which 9 or 10 have already found their way into the repertoires of other singers). As a performer, George has a virtually unique singing style (well so what if there's a very occasional trace of an accent betraying his non-British origins, I'm not referring to that trait). It might at first seem diffident, almost apologetic in its gentility and understatement, although as you'll hear George is not lacking in passion. As a writer, George is driven by a love of people with all their imperfections - indeed, because of these imperfections, their constant struggle to improve themselves and the society they live in. He is determined to celebrate the perfect moments that life can nevertheless bring, and he conveys the various issues and concerns with a healthy integrity and a deep folk sensibility. In his own music, you can discern the influences of those songwriters and musics he himself admires - he's a man of admirably catholic tastes who appreciates the finer, often largely unsung modern folk writers (Stan Rogers, Dave Webber, Cyril Tawney) as well as the acknowledged masters. You can tell too that he understands and reflects the at once impish and waspish humour of such masters as Clive James, Jeremy Taylor and Jake Thackeray. Although I wouldn't wish for a moment to imply that George is a musical magpie, he's clearly conversant with a variety of musical styles and song forms, and proves himself particularly adept at achieving the authentic feel of traditional folk song. His versatility extends throughout the many facets of folk music and types of folk song - from seasonal (Welcome In Another Year) to the theory and practice of war (What Life For A Soldier), protest (Silent Majority), industrial (Lowestoft Rock, dealing with the demise of trawling), or vocational (Sound The Horn, It Takes A Soldier), social observation (Busker), local history/nostalgia (Remember Joe Turner), childhood memories (Circles In The Air), maritime (Old Sailors, Batavia), philosophical anthems (Recessional) and songs written with the folk-club environment in mind (As Long As Someone Sings A Song), not to mention story songs. He also mirrors the music and rhythms of his native Greece (Rain, Vassiliki). In listening over and again to the music on these three CDs, I have discovered one particular feature of George's work, at least as presented on CD, that might be considered a mild drawback: in playing virtually all the accompaniments himself on 6-, 12-string and bass guitars, he's taken the opportunity for selective multi-tracking. This can sometimes (and to a varying extent) be distracting, since in producing an over-busy, trilling, rippling texture, it is liable to work against the lyrics gaining their maximum impact (as on Hello And Goodbye). Perhaps his apparent diffidence in vocal delivery is born of an over-reliance on instrumental arrangement, minimal though this often is. But George clearly has no need to be in the least apologetic, nor should he hesitate in stepping forward with his undoubted talents. In fact, the above minor point notwithstanding, George has produced an impressive body of songs thus far, and a fitting epithet for his work might well be "songs for tomorrow's tradition" - praise indeed.
David Kidman
David Kidman
2004 was a significant year for Shropshire born Pare. He quit his job in Sheffield, ended a relationship, sold his house and moved to China to become a teacher. A year later, he was travelling on the Trans-Siberian Express with a bunch of conscripts returning home after two years military service and looking to swim in a sea of vodka. What threatened to be a volatile situation was defused when Pare swapped a bottle of vodka for a battered guitar and sang a few songs. Spurred on by the prospect of hours on end staring out at the bleak Russian countryside, he started to write, putting down rough demos on his MP3 player. Eventually back home, having been robbed of everything save that player, he decided to turn the songs into a properly recorded mini album. This is the result, a six track collection of melancholic songs seasoned by experience, simply arranged for guitar, keyboards, cello and handclaps and sung in a warmly burnished voice reminiscent of Roddy Frame and Stephen Duffy.
It opens with Exorcism, a gorgeously melodic beautifully desperate song about his decision to uproot and change his life ("I'm tired of the bottom, I'm coming up") while both the slow waltzing Shoot To Win and the gently cascading melody of Looking At Me deal with love's self-delusions with the sort of disarming grace James Blunt can only dream of.
A guitar that sounds like dripping icicles intros Afterglow, a wearily wistful remembrance of love and lust stained with the dust of regret then it's on to the soft burr cello that announces Losing My Touch, a sad realisation that a relationship has run its course and things have to end in order to begin again ("what can I say, I'm not in love with you but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me too"), which, with harmonies from Jemima Grace, is both the album's highlight and one of the most heartbreaking songs you'll hear.
Finally, the softly strummed You've Got Your Work Cut Out sees Pare moving on, opening his heart to new love while realising things might still not work out. It may not be an original story, but honest and affecting it's one few won't relate to and, crafted with everyman lyrics and lilting melodies it marks Pare as a singer-songwriter of real note. All he needs is for someone to get behind him on the radio and he's going to become a major new star. Check out his MySpace for a bonus extra track, My Lover.
www.myspace.com/timparemusicMike Davies February 2007
On first acquaintance, well till near halfway through track 1 maybe, I'm thinking here's yet another band of confident youngsters with heaps of obvious energy and a taste for automatic eclecticism - but hey, don't let's yawn too soon, this outfit are different, quite possibly unique. It's immediately apparent that they've got an unusual degree of musical maturity as well as the confidence and attitude, and intense degree of talent, that's almost a given when there be award-winners in their ranks. Style-wise, their music is a folk-Celtic-bluegrass-oldtime hybrid that doesn't quite recall any particular antecedents except perhaps approximating a more earthy version of Nickel Creek. They're absolutely teeming with ideas, and happily mix and match styles and ideas in a very winning manner. In spite of the name, PBSC is only a three-piece, but they make a big sound with just fiddle, mandolin or guitar, and bodhrán. The dynamic fiddle player is Shetlander Ross Couper, who as a member of Bodega won the BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Awards not all that long ago. Mandolin and guitar duties - and the sturdy vocals too - are taken by a Canadian, Aidan Curran, a founder member of The Rock Island Ramblers among other things. And the bodhrán is played in an incredibly energetic bhangra style (yes, that has to be heard to be believed!) by Will Lang. If that combination doesn't point to something genre-defying, then I don't know what does!… for although the trio's musical adventures share their different traditions and straddle the generic boundaries, the band never sits on the fence (or the bench for that matter). They strike a healthy balance between tune-sets and songs here; most of the former turn out to be band originals, and creative ones at that, while the latter consist of a fun John Hiatt cover, versions of The Cuckoo and Little Sadie, and a song of Aidan's about his grandfather. Aidan's singing is commendably individual and mature, and leagues away from the "youngster playing at being adult" that you tend to get in some of the less experienced young bands. I mentioned the big sound, but the trio are augmented occasionally too, by Eliza Carthy on three tracks (including the delightful hidden track), and Simon Robinson (cello) and Tom Wright (various odds and ends). For any new band, Sit On This would I'm sure be considered a damned fine first effort, for it makes a big impression musically while conveying the sense of almost unbridled fun the musicians are having in the process. It's slightly disconcerting that the cover displays the track titles in random (as opposed to actual sequence) order, otherwise I've no complaints with this abundantly lively, genuinely exhilarating disc.
www.myspace.com/theparkbenchsocialclub
David Kidman June 2007
Graham Parker - Deepcut To Nowhere (Evangeline)
It's indicative of the undervalued esteem with which he's held in the UK that even after the recent glowing reviews for the retrospective reissues this, his first for the label (though he's still with Razor and Tie, who released The Mona Lisa's Sister, Struck By Lightning and 12 Haunted Episodes, in the US) has been summarily ignored and under promoted. His first studio album in a while, it's largely business as usual with his Costello/Dylan sore throat growl, that sinewy Stones r&b swagger and the angry, cynical, misanthropic nature of his lyrical passion.
With a pessimistic Dark Days that namechecks the political tensions between India and Pakistan opening proceedings, the mood's quickly set with images of nature letting rip, the rain flooding down through I'll Never Play Jacksonville Again (did he have a bad gig there or what?) and storms raging across the East Coast in If It Ever Stops Rainin'. The sun rarely shines in Graham Parker's universe. There's a definite touch of Bukowski's gutters and losers in the characters that occupy songs like Cheap Chipped Black Nails and Socks n Sandals (a slob's love song), which with Tough On Clothes, a parent's lament on his kid's garment terrorism, finds him in the haberdashery imagery dept. Harmonica blowing, Syphilis & Religion is a pretty much self-explanatory (and let's face it hardly novel) attack on Christianity's missionary colonialism, but things fare better when he's drawing from the personal (if not necessarily autobiographical) well. The countrified Blue Horizon takes a look back at where he came from and the different roads old friends travelled, a fiesta rhythmed High Horse finds him having another hard time with women while It Takes A Village Idiot ("why can't a woman be more like a man instead of complicated?") owns up to an ineptitude in the battle of the sexes. If he's as grumpy and chauvinistic hell to live with as his songs suggest, no wonder he's making albums about failed relationships and townsfolk who'd like to see him skewered.
Mike Davies
It's been some time since I reviewed Ian's album Inside and he's been off reconnecting with his blues roots in the USA along with Aynsley Lister, amongst other things. Where I Belong is the culmination of two years worth of finding himself and a re-evaluation of his blues and soul heroes in addition to those influences of a less bluesy origin. The eponymous title track is a mid-paced R&B opener and its repeating theme is a good base to start from. He has already shown that he has matured both as a songwriter and musician. Your Love Is My Home has a cool BB King style opening and this sophisticated, blues influenced, soul flecked feast is a treat to the ears. Parker shows that he can get down and dirty on the medium paced rocker, Until You Show Me. This has gritty vocals, via voice box, and a powerful guitar solo and they contribute to a well written, excellently performed song. Coming Home has the surprise inclusion of flugelhorn and has Parker on acoustic guitar. This is a slow burner and suits his now distinctive vocal that sets him apart from the rest of the field. A special mention has to be made for the on-form drummer, Wayne Proctor. Waste My Days is a little bit of boogie and will get the crowd going with its great sing-along chorus.
Sweet Singing Sirens is an excellent example of Parker's particular form of song writing and this chugging R&B rocker has some great harmonica licks from Dave Jenkins in addition to some screaming guitar from Parker. He finally turns to the blues, albeit 60s British blues, for Love So Cold. His voice is so suited to this and it rocks. It's raunchy, moody and mean and provides some of his best guitar work. We're now in full flow as Parker cranks it up for Before Our Eyes. This is an out and out rocker and he should make no apologies for that. The sophisticated Don't Hold Back would be great for a small, intimate venue, especially with Parkers emotional vocal. It's back to the rock arena for another chugger; the blues influenced You Could Say. This has more blues elements than most of the other tracks and is a good old foot stomper. He finishes with Told My Girl To Go Away, which flits between acoustic and electric but the acoustic slide is well worth waiting for. Wayne Proctor is again excellent and Parker saves one of his strongest vocals for the finale. The whole thing builds up into a top class blues rocker and is a fine way to end the album. There's something here for most people and I'm sure that Ian Parker will win many new fans with it.
www.ianparkermusic.com
www.rufrecords.de
David Blue March 2007
Ian Parker - Inside (Ruf Records)
The opener She Cries has modern drum beats, crisp guitar a sultry vocal and sets the scene for the rest of the album. With a backing band of ex-Robert Plant Band drummer Andy Edwards, former Aynsley Lister Band bassist Steve Amadeo and long time sidekick Morg Morgan on keyboards Parker serves up 13 self written songs covering a number of styles.
Misfits And Fools has a great blues riff to it and is one of my favourite tracks. The chorus sends shivers up my spine. The pared down Burden Pain is one that will tug at your heartstrings with lyrics such as 'Some things in life are too painful to mention'. Funny How is funky and laid back in the extreme with another blues riff in the background.
There's a western feel to Sometimes I Wonder and this is a song that suits Parkers voice but would also suit a voice such as Jon Bon Jovi. Scared To Lose This Love is a classy acoustic led offering whereas The Love I Have has an R&B groove to it. Z Madness is the shortest track on the album at just over a minute and is a small showcase of Parkers excellent guitar work. It leads wonderfully into my favourite ballad, Dear Lord - no superlatives here, just a great song.
Feeling Whole Again is the first true blues song on the album and confirms this bands versatility. There's a feeling of Richard Marx on Meant To Be and I'm sure that when others hear Parkers songs then he'll be in demand as a songwriter as well as an artist in his own right.
The penultimate Awake At Night is another emotion-laden song (get the lighters out) that slows the pace right down. You'd expect a high-powered finish but Parker surprises yet again by going out with another excellent ballad in Everything And More. This flirts with being slushy but he manages to pull it off but only with the Derrin Nauendorf style guitar flurries.
I'm glad to have heard Ian Parker and I'm sure you will be too. Unfortunately I missed him on his recent trip to Glasgow but maybe next time.
www.IanParkerBand.com
www.rufrecords.de
David Blue
Hailing from the West Country but now based in Birmingham, Parks has been slowly making a name for herself in jazz circles, both with her own ensembles and as a featured performer with the MYJO as well as singing with Latin soul funk outfit Kanopus. This is her solo album, bringing to bear influences that range from Carole King to Ella Fitzgerald for a set of chill out jazz (Star, Change Is Made), creamy late night
singer-songwriter soul of the Sade variety (Same Old Story), blues (Moral of the Story), torch (You've Changed) and slouching beats slinky gospel funk (Pass Me By). She even does an early hours lush and languid cover of Bjork's Joga, from Homogenic.
Lyrically astute in its meditations on 'the human condition' (read, relationships) in the 21st century and apparently part improvised, it suffers from some generic first album faults such as a sense of restraint where you'd want her to give a little more emotional blood (the 38 second Moral of the Story shows she can get gutsy), but there's no getting away from the evocative voice and the depth and quality of her material and arrangements.
Mike Davies, April 2006
Phil Parlapiano - Pianoforte (PBR)
I was going to start this by saying that if you looked at just who Phil Parlapiano has worked with, then you'd have to say he comes with serious credentials. However, so long and illustrious is the list (Jon Bon Jovi, Rod Stewart, John Prine and Lucinda Williams are just four of the names), that it seems more appropriate to say that if YOU haven't worked with HIM then the gap is on your CV not his.
With his second CD Pianoforte, Parlapiano (what a great name for a musician, sounds like a style of playing) quickly achieves the first objective because anyone expecting a traditional singer/songwriter will be soon jolted out of that notion.
Sadly, it might have been better had he stuck to the tried and tested formula, because much of Pianoforte sounds like a cut and paste job that didn't work.
It is impossible to tell how good a songwriter he is, as much of the time you can't hear him amongst the jumble of instruments. If a producer's contribution should go unseen and unheard then he's been ill-served. His vocals, particularly on Hold Me Ma are so far back in the mix that they sound like he's singing through the keyhole of a locked door, with the key still in the lock. The production by Parlapiano himself and long-time associate Bill Bonk as The Brothers Figaro, appears to have been confined to making sure everything was switched on and shouting GO.
When he is given the opportunity to take centre stage, most notably on The Night That You Left, the mood of the album changes completely and it becomes obvious that he has something about him.
As a musician, Parlapiano is undoubtedly a talent, the people he's worked with can pick and choose and they chose Phil Parlapiano.The problem with Pianoforte doesn't so much lie with the raw talent available but more what's been done with it, or rather to it. If I were him I wouldn't want to be judged on it.
Michael Mee
Siobhan Parr - Repeat To Fade (IRL)
She's finally gotten round to her own album, with the exception of her unadorned vocally soaring live cover of Tim Buckley's Buzzin' Fly a totally self-penned affair that reveals she has the writing chops to match a voice that's been variously compared to Bonnie Raitt, Janis Joplin and Joni Mitchell.
Embracing twangy alt country, soul, blues and backwoods folk, it's an impressively confident and accomplished first outing, songs like the honey and bourbon Lose My Dress (where those Joni tones wade deep in muddy creek waters), Too Much To Ask, the organ driven Any Other Way, a rolling and tumbling Ripped At The Seams and the world weary piano accompanied country slow ballad The Joker all bespeaking life seasonings or Loretta Lynn proportions.
Another Love suggests she could easily crack the Lucinda Williams crossover market if she felt the desire, but it's the bottle bruised blues of the funkily sleazed and slouched do right Woman I Am, the swaggering R&B veined Piece of Me and off the shoulder choppy Joplin soul of On The Move that likely most represent her heart and intentions. For which we and alcohol suppliers the world over should be truly appreciative.
Mike Davies
It's always so good to hear from Bernie again - you can always rely on him to come up with something worthwhile and interesting - and in he breezes with not one new album but two! The only slight catch (but hey, it's no disadvantage really!) is that you can only get the second, Interpretations, as a buy-one-get-one-free offer when buying another of his albums - ideally, of course, Earth Apples! which is like a rich tapestry of Bernie's life both past and present, and in many ways an ideal introduction to his special craft. It gathers together songs spanning his entire career to date, and firmly puts the spotlight on the consistency of Bernie's lyrical and melodic invention over close on 35 years, and the distinctiveness of his writing style and performing voice (the hallmarks of any defiantly individual talent). Although there are occasional traces of influence from other writers working within the tradition (examples of whose material occur on the Interpretations album), you could never accuse Bernie of being the slightest bit derivative; for Bernie's songs still sound like no-one else's.
Old And New Potatoes is the canny subtitle for the Earth Apples album, conveying the nature of the tasty produce to be found within as well as its varied temporal vintage. I suppose you might say that The Goblin's Riddle and Yallery's Way, the two songs dating from 1973 (some years before his first LP release), are the most overtly "folky" of the 13 songs on the disc, although the fable of The Sailor's Earring (1992) and Farewell, Rose Of The Valley (written only this year) both have a classic folk feel too and the latter, like several others on the disc, comes complete with a memorable singalong-if-you-re-so-inclined chorus. Bernie says that the older songs had never made it onto the contemporaneous albums simply because there was insufficient recording space - certainly it's not an issue of quality, for there are plenty of fine songs here that I'm pleased have finally seen the light of (recording) day, and I'd go as far as to say that some, like Not Fooling Anyone, may well rank amongst the finest he's written.
By dint of a virtual travelogue, the songs form a catalogue of Bernie's ramblings, also enjoying a stylistic versatility: from the Soho troubadour-like Time Stands Still In London through the somewhat Beatlesque Those Days Are Over and the affectionate and honest portraits in Massachusetts Jon and He's A Rough Diamond, to the Lincolnshire landscape of Yallery's Way. Perhaps the biggest surprise here (for those who know Bernie's previous work, at any rate) will be his extensive use of instrumental and vocal augmentation of his basic trademark highly skilled guitar-and-vocal: the additional richness of texture, which is down to an attractive, inventive and genuinely creative use of keyboard "voices" and rhythms and "real" vocal harmonies (all Bernie's own), goes beyond mere cosmetic embellishment and in the majority of cases develops, and really enhances, the essence of the songs.
I might say the same of the Interpretations album, which is subtitled Songs I Wish I'd Written, and unlike many a songwriter's album of "mere covers", deserves to be assessed (and issued) in its own right, for it's a sincere and credible release on which Bernie sets his own individual stamp on songs which clearly mean a lot to him. The pick of these are inevitably those which have inspired me also: October Song and Painting Box from the ISB, three Dylan songs, Archie Fisher's epic Witch Of The Westmorelands, two by Cyril Tawney, and even Utah Phillips' enigmatic yet image-rich Goodnight-Loving Trail. Bernie's every right to be proud of these two new CDs, and although he's indicated that his songwriting well may have run dry this "man of the earthy integrity" still has plenty of creativity left in him, not least in terms of skilful musical arrangement, production and - judging from the powerful cover illustration for Earth Apples - as an artist.
David Kidman May 2008
Now here's a surprise - acclaimed singer/songwriter/musician Bernie has brought out a wholly instrumental album! Coming quite soon after Songs From Stony Rock (already reviewed on this site), this is the second of his CDs to be entirely self-produced in his home-studio, and it's another notable achievement, with attractive design, brief but informative liner notes and state-of-the-art reproduction and mastering. All of which would count for nought were the music therein not of the highest quality too - which I'm pleased to report it is. It presents a well-contrasted mixture of original compositions by Bernie and arrangements of traditional pieces; the arrangements involve guitars, of course, also some mandolin and keyboard work, but a key element in the sound-picture on a significant number of the album's 14 tracks is that of the hurdy-gurdy, Bernie's most recent passion, which is played largely without the distinctive rasping buzz that for some listeners is the instrument's prime turn-off! If you're familiar with Bernie's impressive catalogue of story-songs, especially with regard to the musical idiom in which he operates, then you'll notice familiar points of reference aplenty in the way the melodic contours of the tunes of Bernie's originals are shaped. Even so, Bernie's inspirations range outwith folk music, for there's a baroque stateliness to My Lady's Lament and an almost cinematic grandeur to the impressionistic majesty of Place Of Eagles which evokes through the sound of massed hurdy-gurdies the immense, unrivalled grandeur of Snowdonia. This contrasts well with a jolly little punningly-titled medley of gurdy-tunes (To Win Toulouse/Parry Mash) and the title track, which with perfect irony features a short snatch of sung lyric right at the end that causes you to stop and think about the very nature of words and wordless music (profound stuff that!). These original pieces are drawn from all periods of Bernie's long career; there's what Bernie modestly describes as an early exercise piece (The Dancer), and even a rather catchy theme tune from a radio musical story which he composed over twenty years ago, but still sounding fresh today. The four non-original tunes include a really lovely arrangement of The Dark Island, and a spirited take on a traditional tune he heard in his native north-east, Rob Roy (this one recalling the days when Trimdon Folk Club's resident band included within its ranks a "shy young lad with a high tenor voice called Jez Lowe"!) My only slight (personal) reservation is that Bernie's rather nice Planxty Irwin and the closing Silent Night at times verge a tad too close to the chocolate-box sound for my esoteric tastes! But no matter, for Bernie's inventiveness knows no bounds, and there are so many delights on this CD, too numerous to mention in this review.
David Kidman August 2006
Whatever happened to Bernie Parry? That's been the question for those who remember this distinctive singer-songwriter (who grew up in Co. Durham) from some 20 years ago and into the early 80s, when he released a couple of albums crammed full of abnormally fine songs like Man Of The Earth, Davy and The Windwitch. Bernie gained a healthy following from his regular appearances on the folk circuit, and he was still to be found gigging through the 90s, latterly in a highly-regarded duo with Tony Taffinder, but for some strange reason his work never seemed to bring him the acclaim he deserved, at least here in the UK, and for the past eight years he's been performing mostly abroad (the US and southern Europe). Now he's returned to Leeds and is making amends for his fans in this country by releasing this new CD consisting entirely of previously unrecorded songs, some written here and there over the past few years and some brand new compositions. Also (and here's a first for Bernie) there's a solitary cover, Robin Williamson's revelatory October Song, which as Bernie acknowledges occupies a special place in his affections (as it does in mine!), since it had a profound effect on his early development as a guitar player. And indeed ever since, as you can hear on many of the songs on this new collection. All along, it's fair to say, Bernie's songs have been noted for their striking and expert "free" guitar accompaniments, often involving unorthodox tunings and/or key centres, and often providing a healthy challenge for the adventurous listener (and fellow-guitarist!). Within their unusual and instantly recognisable style, many of Bernie's songs also challenge by virtue of the rather individual compass over which his melodies stretch, sometimes rendering them less than easy to join in with or perform. But the bottom line for me has always been the high level of reward, the sense of satisfaction that invariably repays attentive listening to Bernie's carefully crafted songs. Overall, his personal style may not have changed significantly over the years as such (and why should it?), but he's still in great voice and still capable of writing powerful lyrics. He's not lost his touch in any way; Songs From Stony Rock is emphatically not one of those "variations on the same old theme" comeback jobs that have littered the folk scene in recent times. It contains some stunningly beautiful songs - I'd single out A Bend In The Road, A Rose Without Thorns, the emotionally potent opener Waiting In The Wings, the economically expressed introspection of I Will Love You Till I Die. Listening to the melody alone on Ride The 61, that melody-line just couldn't have been written by anyone but Bernie, it's that distinctive in its twists and turns and its wide range, and when you add in the evocative road-restlessness of the lyrics you have a masterpiece in my opinion. Yes, I'm inclined to welcome Bernie's return to the UK scene with open arms - so go buy this superb CD, on which Bernie displays his all-round prowess by undertaking "all vocals, instrumentations and arrangements", and CD engineering and reproduction, with true skill and panache. There's also a special deal for purchasers - ie you can buy this CD along with his previous fine recording RandomFandangos (originally released in 2000), for just £20 incl. P&P.
David Kidman July 2006
A decidedly strange record, this. For a start, ponder this: how can you have - or write, for that matter - "songs without a purpose"? But this is Johnny's second album, so there must still be a purpose to the writing. Although Johnny himself is of the view that his songs "proudly resolve nothing", so we're back where we started. Or are we? - for, laying that conundrum aside, how do we approach Johnny's music? What confronts our ears is a soundscape that owes quite a bit to the avant-garde mavericks, minimalists and iconoclasts, with prominent colourings of piano, bass and cello; occasionally you'll hear sax, trumpet, guitar, percussion and/or a string quartet, and (interestingly) a female (trained-soprano) voice, pushing through the gloomy texture with shafts of dark light. The songs themselves are initially hard to comment on without reference to the booklet (which thankfully gives the lyrics in full), but the writing seems to match the musical settings rather well, being at once darkly elegant in their poetry and distinctly disturbing to digest, their menacing, unsettling mood not entirely assuaged by the smoother undercurrents that ripple reassuringly through the textures. The big stumbling block for the listener, I suspect, will be not the confusing and often queasily imprecise nature of the songs' emotional climate but Johnny's vocal delivery. This, more than anything else, immediately seems to come perilously close to being a pastiche Tom Waits, for listening to Johnny's singing voice is rather like catching your ears on the sound of roughest sandpaper that has a bad sore throat whispering "sweet nothings" or croaking desperate confidences into your ear (and sometimes it'll appear as painful for the singer himself as it is for you to listen to). Beyond a couple of tracks, it'll either get too uncomfortable for you to bear any longer, or else you'll be able to accept it as the norm and any other singer thereafter will sound naff and artificial. Actually, I rather warmed to Johnny's style, tho' I'll admit I do really have to be in the right mood to listen to it and I own up that I expect to be in a minority there. Johnny's music is both unusual and challenging, and his uncompromising musical vision can be quite stimulating; the listener needs to keep an open pair of ears and embrace all manner of possible av