A to Z Album and Gig Reviews
This double-disc set presents a pair of recordings made during the "OK UK" tour which the six-piece "InterCeltic folk-rockers" underwent last autumn: the (bonus) DVD at the Quay Arts Centre, Newport (IOW, not South Wales!) and the CD at the final date on the tour, on home turf at the Grand Pavilion, Porthcawl (definitely South Wales!).
Given the incredible reputation Mabon have as a live band – especially this year – it may come as a bit of a surprise to discover that on this already-phenomenally-well-selling release (loads were shifted at Cropredy!) the audience presence is not overwhelming (which may be counted a good thing for many listeners, but inevitably leads to a slight loss in atmosphere-level), and between-items banter and intros are almost entirely absent. But do not despair, for these recordings are technically excellent, and the combined soundscape and sense of presence is very powerful indeed.
Another feature which will probably confuse matters slightly for punters, though, is that the band lineup on this live release differs from the current incarnation in that fiddler and ex-Rainbow-Chaser Ruth Angell, who plays such a persuasive role on the CD and DVD, was a stand-in for the more overtly flamboyant Oli Wilson-Dickson (a true showman if ever there was one, as he proved when he and accordionist Jamie Smith were forced to busk a duo set at Cropredy when the rest of the band were stranded by a breakdown en route!). So this set will be counted unique in recording quite a special tour in the history of the band.
The track menu varies only slightly between CD and DVD, with the cool Divers Alarums, a set of Mazurkas and the Breton an-dro extravaganza La Randonnée present on the 10-track CD but not the 8-track DVD, and the epic OK Pewter standout A Hungarian In Brittany spearheading the post-intermission segment of the DVD, which reaches a rabble-rousing climax with the blinder File Under Biddley and Easy On The Reels sets.
During the fifty-odd minutes of each set, the music manages to encompass all the points of Mabon's fascinating geographical compass, its original and wholly invigorating blend of Celtic, Breton, Galician and original fusion. The filming is straightforward, but manages to capture the fun the band are having – even if they don't appear to break sweat until the final stages! – and it's good to be able to focus attention on the interplay as well as the overt soloing. In audio only, it's sometimes easy to underestimate Calum Stewart's contribution (flute and pipes), but the DVD proves he's worth his weight in gold, and even I went back to listen to the audio with fresh ears.
And I don't think I've heard Ruth play better or more responsively than on the then-new repertoire items, the magnificent if episodic Buck Rarebit and The Tale Of Nikolai The Dancing Bear, nor Jamie than on his own personal (ironically-titled for its absence of fiddle part!) deliberately dextrous showcase Fiddler's Despair. And I never cease to be amazed at the subtleties of shading Iolo gets from his drumkit, while bassist Matt "The Hat" Downer brings the most chunky of funky lines to underpin both Derek Smith's inventive guitar work and the big bold front lines weaving across and above his stave.
So this package can be considered a must-have document of the tour, one which communicates the musical - if not quite the last scraps of the purely physical excitement - element of the band's energy at a time when they were on the start of their current roll, one which promises to last right into 2011, with a key appearance planned at Celtic Connections.
David Kidman October 2010
Martin Carthy, Martin Simpson, Martin Taylor & Juan Martin - Martins 4 (P3 Music)
The four members of this grouping together cover the major part of the musical spectrum, and it shouldn't need to be said that each one's a highly individual guitar stylist, not only as a leading exponent of music in his particular idiom but also as a skilled instrumentalist per se. Stating the very obvious, Martin Carthy is to English traditional folk music what Martin Simpson is to the delta blues, Martin Taylor to jazz guitar and Juan Martin to flamenco. The rationale of this collaboration between them, and coincidentally its strength, lies in pointing up and exploring the connections between these musical genres. This CD presents excerpts from the collected Martins' touring show, recorded live in Glasgow (presumably some time last year). Fear not then, those of you who might think it's an excuse for an esoteric ego trip by four single-minded and self-absorbed musos; quite the contrary, it's an enticing and thoroughly accessible blending of their talents. You might, however, think it a bit naughty that out of the twelve tracks on the CD, there's only four where all four participants actually come together to lock horns or whatever; the remainder are personal showcases for the individuals (two apiece). But you can't argue that on every single selection the pure excitement generated by the playing is tangible - these musicians aren't mere technicians (a charge that's often unfairly levelled at the jazzers in particular), but exhibit their skills with an abundance of prime musicality.
The four cuts utilising the full "fearsome foursome" do provide most of the highlights of the set, with some superbly imaginative interplay on Glass Of Water and Vuelo in particular, and a wholly credible integration of ostensibly disparate elements like bluesy slide and percussive flamenco on the opening eight-minute La Pasion Del Lamento, but Juan's solo showpiece Evocacion – De Damascus A Cordoba is stunning on any level. Simpson's Jasper Songbird/Spoonful medley is a brilliantly evocative concoction, Taylor's African-inflected piece Kwame/Kiko glitters and sparkles with sprightly rhythmic complexity, and Carthy's Heather Down The Moor has an equally capricious spring in its step. What matter that most if not all of the solo pieces have appeared before on other CDs by these artists, for these new live renditions have a frisson all to themselves. I was going to say "even allowing for the absence of the visual dimension", but I notice an advert on the CD booklet for a DVD of the 4 Martins live at Glasgow's Royal Concert Hall – which may well be an extended edition of the CD I'm reviewing, and if so, then I guess it's another must-have, fine though this CD is.David Kidman
Notorious is the working "band name" for these two musicians when performing as a duo, and refers to their love for Hitchcock films, but in the end this too proves a bit of a MacGuffin, for their reputations by all accounts remain unsullied! Larry's name may be familiar to those readers who are enthusiasts of dance, for he's written over a thousand tunes (mainly fiddle tunes and waltzes) over the past 20+ years and regularly plays for contra, waltz, swing and Scottish dances. As instrumentalist, he's a skilled fingerstyle blues, ragtime and slide guitarist and banjo player; he's accompanied many notable fiddlers including Alasdair Fraser, Matt Glaser and Rodney Miller, and recorded with Ginny Snowe as well as the Reckless Ramblers. But his current musical partnership with Eden appears made in heaven. For Eden is a versatile young violin player from Texas who has her roots in classical music but is readily and eagerly branching out into traditional, oldtime, jazz-swing and world-folk. And she's not a bad singer either, making a fine fist of anything she tackles, from (Working On) The New Railroad (on which she also plays viola) to the old Andrews Sisters hit Bei Mir Bist Du Schön and the blues chestnut Sitting On Top Of The World (where she's ably backed by Larry's National Resonator guitar); what a shame she only gets three vocal outings on the disc! If performing with any lesser musician, Eden's fiery and florid violin pyrotechnics might well threaten to overwhelm the exciting guitar fretwork, but this never happens with Larry and Notorious. Sure, her playing's often somewhat technique-driven, but it always remains primarily musical in its focus and impact. I find the oldtime-flavoured numbers especially scintillating, in fact. Larry's proven compositional skills are spotlighted on around half of the album's tunes, whereas Eden's own compositions (on the evidence of The Watermill and the snappy Schottis Fran Palmer here) are equally inspired, and, like Larry's, authentically idiomatic rather than pastiche. Just occasionally there may be hints that Notorious are just a little restless in their wandersome eclecticism, but any such minor reservation need not concern the listener who's open-minded and keen to embrace a wide range of musical styles especially when they're so sparklingly and engagingly played as they are here.
www.larryunger.net
www.fiddlegarden.net
David Kidman November 2006
Before comparatively recently, Peter's name may not have sparked recognition in anyone, even those involved in the wider Irish music scene, except perhaps for those with long memories. His early introduction to the London Irish music scene (in the milieu of which he grew up) culminated in 1979 by his winning (while still in his late teens) the Senior All-Ireland title on the tin-whistle, then proceeded to devote his life to teaching, becoming "lost to academia" for the best part of the ensuing 30 years.
However, last year the death of two enormously influential figures in his life – his mother Kitty and his musical mentor and neighbour Kathleen Murray – coincided with an invitation from Karen Tweed to perform at the Camden Town Irish music festival, and Peter's dormant musical muse was rekindled; spurred on by the success of that concert and pleading from fellow-musicians, Peter has now recorded this CD with the help of that London-based doyen of the capital's Irish music scene Pete Quinn. This redoubtable gentleman, best known hereabouts for his work with the London Lasses, brings the benefit of his keyboard expertise to accompanying Peter's tin-whistle on a generous collection of 18 sparkling tracks that breathe abundant life into assorted tune-sets that pair reels, jigs or hornpipes with each other, interspersed with the occasional air or set-dance.
As Peter says in his booklet notes, these traditional tunes have, it appears, been around for ever, but they sure retain their charm in his confident yet affectionate and committed renditions that retain that essential twinkle in the eye. His playing is admirably fluent and never seems breathless, thoroughly musical at whatever pace he adopts – which to his eternal credit is not at any time showily over-fast! Measured in the most delightful and lively way, while taking inspiration from many of the classic interpreters of the tradition (I rather liked his way with the Michael Coleman tunes on track 3 for instance). Peter's playing is always tasteful, and often quite masterly. And Pete's keyboard work is complementary in its subtlety, in its own right conveying both sympathy with the inflections and phrasings of the tin-whistle and its player, and a feeling for the contours of the music itself that allows for sensitive nuances alongside of the main instrumental focus or principal melodic input.
I'd be the first to admit that the restricted palette of the two musicians might seem a touch unvaried – this would be unavoidable whatever the calibre of the musicians involved – but the balance is always ideally judged, the recording given an intimate presence (the whistle doesn't pierce your orifices!), and then playing contains sufficient intrinsic contrast to satisfy within the sequence of tunes presented. For the slow airs, Mr Quinn departs from the "pure" piano and instead provides understated keyboard chordings and embellishments: no more is needed. I do feel the keyboard tone encourages a touch of over-sweetness in intonation on Peter's part at times, though. There's a touch of low-key doubletracking of keyboard parts here and there, but nothing at all obtrusive.
Economy is a watchword in the performances generally, for no individual track lasts longer than three-and-a-quarter minutes, and the vast majority clock in at well under three minutes – with one exception, a 4:56 rendition of The Star Of The County Down which Peter presents in the form of a fantasia that metamorphoses from slow air through jig and hornpipe to fleet-footed reel and then back to lament in its thematic treatments; this latter track forms a poignant tribute to Peter's parents, and a fitting close to the album.
I'm not always convinced by the juxtapositions of different rhythms within a given set – some instances where reel follows jig (such as The Morning Dew on track 4) seem a touch forced – but on the whole the groupings are sensibly coordinated by the two musicians. But there'll be no argument that the music on this disc is still beautifully played and impeccably registered, and the two musicians are evidently completely in tune with one another and their craft; thus it proves impossible to find fault with that aspect of the disc (I'll pass that task over to the hard-core specialists in this genre, but I suspect it will be a tough challenge). Peter's own booklet notes are friendly and companionable, and provide some delightful personal-historical anecdotes amidst the informativeness, although some of his choices of tune namings may puzzle the aficionado.
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman January 2011
After making three fine records in a duo partnership with Canterach guitarist Ross Kennedy, ace fiddler Archie goes it alone for this new outing - albeit in title credit only! With Fiddlers Rock (that annoying apostrophe-manqué is the only thing I could find missing from this brilliant CD!), Archie has made a really exhilarating fiddle-based record - yet it would be unjust not to attribute at least a share of the credit for this to the guest musicians he's assembled for the project, who include Eamon Doorley, Martin O'Neill, Allan Henderson, Rod Paul, Iain MacDonald, Ron Pirrie and Iain MacFadyen (what a list!).
Refreshingly, these guest musicians never turn up "mob-handed"; instead one or two are carefully selected for each track, often cleverly but almost unobtrusively varying the texture for (say) one tune in a set then stepping back out of the spotlight. But equally, integral though these guest contributions undoubtedly are, they're but (tremendously tasty) icing on the rich cake baked by Archie's full-bodied and totally involving fiddle playing. This is immensely stylish on everything from driving reels to passionate slow airs and delicate waltzes, with a magnificent control of phrasing and rhythm that surely stems from Archie's long years of expertise in the west-coast dance tradition (most recently in the context of the Black Rose Ceilidh Band).
I could pick highlights from either end of the tempo spectrum: the storming Maids Of Mount Cisco set (track 7), the Arthur Gilles pipe reel set (track 8) and the closing, gently poised Gaelic Waltz Set. But Archie's selection of tunes is always captivating: it includes Irish (Tommy Peoples, Liz Carroll, Alan Doherty) alongside Scottish pipe tunes, several compositions by Cape Breton fiddle legend Jerry Holland and - modestly - a couple of his own. A winner from start to finish, with superlative sound quality capturing every nuance of Archie's playing.
David Kidman July 2010
Hector, a direct descendant of famed 18th century fiddler Niel Gow, inherited Niel's "driven bow" technique: the distinctive up-stroke Scotch snap that gives the strathspey its unique flavour. Hector became a master fiddler himself, also a key practitioner of pipe music on the fiddle, and was regarded as the greatest of his generation by fine players like Willie Hunter; by the time of his death in 1980, he was already a legend.
Classically trained, Hector brought to traditional Scots fiddle music a refined and beautiful tone that set a new, more polished standard of playing for that repertoire, while assimilating and carrying forward the Aberdeenshire style with true feeling into an approach that set the benchmark for Scottish fiddle playing for decades to come. Indeed, during the radio era, was to many (including violin virtuoso Yehudi Menuhin) "the voice of Scotland".
The most frequently heard recordings of Scottish fiddle music were of Hector accompanied by his nephew Sandy Edmonstone on the piano, and the recordings on this new disc, made almost 60 years ago in Hector's home (and never intended for public release), are very much typical. Wonderfully relaxed and at-home in both senses of the term, with enough of a spontaneous edge to complement and draw out the intrinsically lyrical quality of the playing and convey both Hector's tremendous response to the music and his convivial fireside manner. Although the strathspey was to Hector the soul of Scottish fiddling, and makes up the lion's share of the music on this disc, with acknowledged genre classics by J. Scott Skinner and Nathaniel Gow inevitably forming cornerstones of his repertoire, here he also performs examples of other musical forms which he interpreted so keenly – for example three Niel Gow pieces (two Laments and a Favourite) and the florid air Auld Robin Gray.
The depth of expression Hector achieves in these performances is miraculous - he truly has the soul of his chosen instrument. When you consider the unbelievable fact that it's currently virtually impossible to obtain any recordings of Hector's playing, this new Greentrax release (splendidly mastered too, by the way) is doubly valuable for anyone who seriously appreciates the real thing in traditional Scots fiddle music.
David Kidman January 2010
Accordionist Mick and fiddler Winifred comprise two-fifths of the dynamic Irish-American band Solas, and here they present a duo album with a difference: emphatically not a disc stuffed full of esoteric twiddly tune-set duets, but instead a mellower, more well-rounded selection that includes a handful of songs amongst the instrumental tracks. Even the latter, though in the majority, are sufficiently lively without being over-showy, and are blessed with interesting arrangements and an admirably clean recording – and superbly solid support from former Solas man Dónal Clancy on guitars and Chico Huff on bass. Multitracking is used creatively, so that Mick gets the chance to accompany his accordion on whistles, keyboards and bodhrán, and Winifred can treat herself to a mini-string section when she feels like it, and even croons along in harmony alongside the melody line (as on the Ballygar Jigs set, track 4). These unusual features give the album its distinctive palette, and while I accept that they won't necessarily be to the taste of yer average lover of purely instrumental virtuoso albums, there's a lot that's appealing about the duo's approach to texture, an elegance and refinement that approaches classicism at times. The individual tracks are well named too: for instance, the Joyous Waltz is just that, with some lovely colourings, and the Peerless Hornpipes set swings like nobody's business. There's sweet, gentle beauty in the title track, although this continuity of mood is milked just a tad too much on Winifred's two rather similar compositions (Little Mona Lisa and A Daisy In December), I feel. But if you still want the old-fashioned empathic virtuosity, the stirring unison playing, well the opening Jug Of Punch set of reels provides that in profusion - what a team! - and The Chorus Reels are suitably fiery too. As for the choice of songs, well Adieu Sweet Lovely Nancy gets a fairly languid reading from Mick, in a singing style which to my mind doesn't really get to the heart of the song's plangency, whereas I quite liked his understated approach to After The Gold Rush (where the emotional thrust is carried more in the instrumental accompaniment), although it misses the original's sense of desperation. The closing track's a simple, tender version of Dylan's To Make You Feel My Love. As a whole, then, it's a disc of mixed fortunes, but its highlights are certainly scintillating.
www.solasmusic.com
www.compassrecords.com
David Kidman, July 2006
Best known as a member of that supremely vital young Irish band Danú, Oisín is also fast gaining the status of one of the finest fiddle players of the new generation, and this, his debut solo album, will definitely cement that reputation. Although, having undergone stints in the fields of classical, bluegrass and newgrass over the years, Oisín feels at home with many musical styles, it's the traditional fiddling style of his native Donegal which inspires and informs his playing more than anything else and is necessarily to the fore on this record (note the double-edge of its title!)… well, at least for much of its length, and undoubtedly providing the majority of the disc's highlights. Oisín has a really impressive strength of rhythmic control in his playing, and his nifty fingerwork never sounds rushed. Technical considerations aside, the spirit of the experimentalism of famed fiddler John Doherty pervades Oisín's own playing too, not least in the way he mixes up different types of tunes within the sets, where he creatively intersperses pieces from the traditions with his own compositions and those of his contemporaries. The opening set of Quebec reels is breathtaking, with some fine guitar accompaniment from Shane McGowan (who plays on just over half of the tracks), and the ensuing set of jigs (the first of the disc's two fabulous, contrasted duets with Ronan Browne's uillean pipes, the other being an epic treatment of the celebrated air King Of The Fairies) is exceptionally well handled, after which there's a really sparkling set mixing barn dance and reels. I don't feel quite so enamoured of some of the later tracks in the eclectic sequence, like the curious set of tunes from the musical theatre (track 7), and there are a couple of pleasant jazzy-newgrass pieces like Oisín's own affectionate portrait Tune For Gillian which (lovely though they are) don't quite fit here I feel. But when Oisín gets back into gear with The Capelhouse/Molloy's jig-set (with Peter Molloy on flute) and the sprightly Scott Skinner variant of Moneymusk, all's well with the world again. I also liked Oisín's take on a pair of tunes by Breton guitarist Gille Le Bigot (with admirable supporting playing from guitarist Tony Byrne and cellist Aongus McAuley), and the set of jigs featuring Peter Browne on button accordion (track 6); and Oisín plays guitar himself on a handful of tracks including the finely-moulded Lover's Ghost air. All told, this is a persuasive solo debut for Oisín, a very good showcase for his exceptional instrumental and arranging skills.
David Kidman April 2007
Listening to the soulful folk hue of Go Out with its percussive guitar rhythms and to the banjo and accordion accompanied fairground attraction handclapping bounce of Mooneyes, it's hard not to think of Macbeth (more properly MacBeath) as Edinburgh's answer to Glasgow's Eddi Reader. Both have that slight warm burr to the voice, both write music that embraces jazz, folk and pop colours and both can summon either giddy joy or poignant sadness.
Kiss off opener Ya Hoe skips along with vocal whoops that make you want to run down the street clicking your heels in the air, Let It Go turns on the Brubeck juice for a brushed drums and piano jazz shuffle and with its lines about forty a day woodbine girls, transvestites in latex and pearls and randy truckers, Conjugal Scene is straight out of burlesque cabaret by way of Tom Waits.
The dominant mood of the album, however, is reflection, beautifully manifested in such emotion tugging numbers as the simple voice and guitar Alison's Song, the growing up late acquired wisdom of Waltzing In Blue and, best of all, piano ballad Eight Ball's tale of a thirtysomething housewife and mother's lost dreams. She even manages to include a track called Babies which, for all its cooing 50s doo wop backing, tinkling piano scale and rock to sleep rhythm, manages to avoid any hint of twee.
Save for the odd gig in Sri Lanka, Spain, Latvia and Estonia, she's not really played much outside of Scotland so mainstream awareness across the country is, at present, rather limited. Given the reviews and radio play the album deserves, that situation should soon begin to change and see gathering demand for increasingly frequent ventures south of the border.
Mike Davies March 2010
Following on from Dolly Parton's disappointing set of mildly bluegrassed 60s/70s covers on Those Were The Days (though still worth it to hear her duetting with the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens on Where Do The Children Play), here's another country icon, from a rather younger generation, paying tribute to the songs that went before, including some like Satin Sheets that she used to sing when she was just seven working in her dad's band.
McBride's produced the album herself, insisting on keeping with the nostalgia programme by using only vintage microphones and instruments and recording her vocals live with a small backing band, steel player Paul Franklin well in evidence. Dwight Yoakam stopped by too to add vocals to Harlan Howard's Heartaches By The Number.
Her twangy voice does full justice to the material she's selected while the arrangements remain faithful to, if not the original versions then at least the best known ones. Hence Don Gibson's I Can't Stop Loving You recalls the Ray Charles classic (its Charles's spirit on Take These Chains From My Heart too) while Help Me Make It Through The Night salutes Kristofferson but also the hit recording of Sammi Smith.
With bonus tracks for the UK release, there's 22 jewels from country's crown here, ranging from the C&W retro diamond You Win Again through a gorgeous string backed True Love Ways and Eddy Arnold's Make The World Go Away to Walk On By, Lynn Anderson chestnut Rose Garden and Loretta Lynn's You Ain't Woman Enough.
There's not a duff choice to be found, which makes picking favourites difficult but if push comes to shove then I'd have to nominate its triple punch of tear stained honky tonk ballads Today I Started Loving You Again (another nod to Sammi Smith), Tammy Wynette's 'til I Can Make It On My Own and the duet with Parton on Johnny Cash's I Still Miss Someone. But whatever selection you punch up, this almost as good as listening to the real things.
Mike Davies, April 2006
Mary McBride - By Any Other Name (Reality Entertainment)
Out of Brooklyn by way of Louisiana, actress-playwright-singer-songwriter McBride (her stepbrother's Edward Norton) walks a raunchy, self-assured walk, her twang sassy vocal and rock n rolling approach to her country (Weathervane's intro hints at Creedence while I Got Everything positively boogies) ensuring the album motors along with spark and swagger to complement the pain and passion in her voice and her saltily defiant songs.
She's well served by her collaborators too. Three songs (the guitar ringing title track included) are co-writes with Steve Wynn while elsewhere Georgia Satellites man Dan Baird joins forces for a piano pumping Coming Up Empty and the warbling moody (imagine Dolly if she was Lucinda) storytelling Toll Girl, the pair of them also providing the album's two covers with Wynn's Stones gone Texas strut One-Eyed Dog and Baird's bluesy gospel Bottle & Bible.
And if she tends to favour the whisky n demin honky tonk belters, the gorgeously sad Semi-Star and Black-Eyed Strays amply demonstrate, her well weathered heart handles the quieter aches with panache too. Definitely an album for anyone whose wheels travel Lucinda's gravel road, and besides how can you not admire someone who. On That Was Then, can get a way with the line 'you walked a million miles and you blew a million kisses, you gave a million hugs, I said I'd be your missus'.
Mike Davies
Since Then is Northern Irishman Simon McBride's second album, his first being the critically acclaimed Rich Man Falling in 2008. A winner of Guitarist Magazine's Young Guitarist of the Year and endorsed by guitar builder Paul Reed Smith by the time he was 15, it was inevitable that he would go on to greater things. Stints in Sweet Savage (replacing Def Leppard guitarist Vivian Campbell) and Andrew Strong's band led to him taking the solo plunge and the aforementioned debut album.
The 14 self-penned tracks of Since Then open with Take My Hand, which is a full throttle opener with Adrian McIlduff's drum kit at breaking point and electrifying slide guitar from McBride. Hell Waters Rising is a blues rock title if I've ever heard one and this pounding track is just the type of song to rock out to. Superb guitar from McBride and he definitely knows what buttons to press. Acoustic guitar makes an appearance on Save Me and McBride's very good rock voice comes into its own. This is a grower, starting in ballad style and building up into a soft rocker. Down To The Wire is a high class slow blues. Joe Bonamassa must be an influence as I can hear him all over this. McBride is a new star is on the blues horizon. Be My Baby is Jimi Hendrix meets Kansas City blues -- oddly catchy with McBride's guitar stinging you at every turn. From The Other Side is rhythmic blues rock and although there's a lot of guys out there doing this kind of stuff McBride more than holds his own. It's back to slide guitar with The Promise and to great effect too with the power chorus on this good time rocker reaching down your throat and playing with your insides.
Tear Down Your Soul is a funky rocker and I now feel that I've known Simon McBride forever. Dead Man Walking has a resonator in there somewhere but it gets dwarfed by McBride's slashing electric guitar. However, it's another high class blues rocker and he is a master of the chorus. Even though this one is simple it's the power chords that do for you again. Dancing On The Sidewalk is a mid-paced rocker with a funky edge and Sweet Angel has shades of Gary Moore's Still Got The Blues For You in its opening but it's much more than that. McBride's guitar goes straight to your heart. He has the Dobro out again for Coming Home but this time it gets a higher billing. This has intricate guitar work over a pounding beat. I know that I mentioned Mr Bonamassa before but McBride is so similar vocally on Devils Road it's uncanny. This is a strange one with Paul Hamilton's drums on the off beat and it may have been better with just voice and guitar -- a fast paced blues, country, hip hop crossover! He finishes with The Truth, a short instrumental lament with piercing guitar which draws out his Celtic origins.
Simon McBride has the class to challenge the might of the Provogue Records guitarist stable.
David Blue October 2010
There's no major - or indeed minor - label behind her, there's no big name guests and no press release sporting celebrity quotes. But, then, this is only her first release and it's early days yet.
Raised in rural Alabama and reared on a musical diet of '70s and '80s rock and country and the hymns of her weekly Southern Baptist church visits, she formed her first band while at school and it's sort of grown from there.
Playing guitars, drums, keyboards and harmonica, McCarley also wrote 10 of the 11 songs and produced and mixed everything in her home studio in Huntsville. Citing Dylan, Chrissie Hynde, Steve Forbert, Lucinda Williams, and Gillian Welch among her diverse influences (with the melody of Faster Than The Truth suggesting The Box Tops' Neon Rainbow too), she has a raw, unadorned homespun voice that might crack slightly on the high notes but which is engagingly natural and organic as she brings life-worn cares and emotions to her songs.
Lyrically, the album revolves around the tried and tested concerns of first time singer-songwriters with songs of bruised, battered and broken relationships, self-examination, a mix of uncertainty and self-assurance, and hope for the future.
You can hear the Forbert influence on the opening track, the Long Way Home, an aching bones paced number delivered in a weary rich drawl that has all the makings of a classic. 'It's a long way home. but that don't mean I don't wanna go', she sings, marking a sense of ambivalence and hesitancy about decisions that also runs through such songs as the shuffling What I Was Ordering, the glad you're gone but I miss you of Midnight Gown with its memorable line 'I'm just a ghost in my own personal history' and, especially, the bittersweet Hollywood where tinsel town's big break opportunities are set against a chorus about how little girls 'forget to believe they can be happy when they sit too close to the TV.'
She gets playfully frisky on Every Which Way which seems to have its musical roots in the old Southern minstrel tradition, but it and Everything Changed are the only tracks to even approach uptempo and maybe next time she could vary the pacing a little bit more.
However, when someone can include a cover of Welch's Look At Miss Ohio and totally own it, far be it from me to start bandying around career advice!
Mike Davies July 2011
For the past 44 years, there has been a group called "The McCalmans", an entity that has made 26 albums and been at the forefront of performing contemporary and traditional Scottish folk music throughout that time. The group has undergone surprisingly few lineup changes over the years, and the various members have continued to provide solid and reliable service at their many live gigs, always guaranteeing a great night's entertainment full of fine music and infamous, surreal patter.
Mindful of the impending scheduled retirement of founder member Ian McCalman in less than two years' time, the band recently decided that a live format would be the ideal memento should this come to be their final album release. Hence Live: Coming Home, which collects together recordings from the group's tours in Scotland and Denmark in a variety of venues. It concentrates on the music (45 glorious minutes and 14 songs), which is fine as far as I'm concerned but may not entirely please those who want a true memento of the band; but the band are at the top of their game and the selection of material typically wide-ranging, touching the heartstrings one moment and causing loud laughter the next. Aside from the traditional Ye Jacobites By Name (which the group originally recorded in the mid-60s!) and Only Remembered (which they recently recorded for the Greentrax Ypres set), the remainder of the set consists of original compositions. Nick Keir's poignant Corryvreckan Calling and Portnahaven, Lex Hall's No More Sailing (recorded in Arisaig, close by Morar where it's based) and Martin Harbourne's Five O'Clock In The Morning provide set highlights, while Ian's own fine songs form a backbone of the collection, with The Moor Road, When The Risk Of Frost Is Over and Victory Parade contrasting with his tongue-in-cheek Staggering Home and the hilarious Let's Recycle (a canny rewrite of a Midlothian Council instruction booklet). At the opposite extremes of the emotional spectrum, the group also performs covers of Stan Rogers' North West Passage (sadly incomplete) and Shel Silverstein's gleefully satirical Still Gonna Die (which of course he did!). In all, a thoroughly entertaining set replete with typically engaging and impeccable musicianship and characterful individual and close-harmony singing.
In all cases the assembled audiences are heard enthusiastically participating in the songs, giving the recordings exactly the sense of occasion and unbridled rousing infectiousness that marks a McCalmans show – and most of the lyrics are provided in the booklet for us all to join in with the audiendces! Populist, yes, but still irresistible – and perfectly captured here.
David Kidman June 2009
Dave McCann and the Ten Toed Frogs - Country Medicine (Own Label)
It's not that Canadian Dave McCann doesn't care about his music, every note, melody and lyric on this album screams otherwise. It's just that he comes across as the kind of man who doesn't compromise a whole lot. He makes his music and you can take it or leave it, mind you you'd be a fool to leave it. With a little tweaking and a little dumbing down, several of the tracks on Country Medicine would fit easily into the repertoire of any of the 'Shanias' of this world and guarantee a life of luxury for McCann into the bargain. Believe me he's a writer who knows how to put words and music together in a very entertaining way.
His 'problem' is that he demands so much more of his songs than they are just pleasing on the ear. You can smell the woodsmoke and fresh air on Country Medicine. It's not a 'raw' album as such but it is firmly rooted in real life. When he sings Leaving This Town there is absolutely no doubt that he has suffered the pain.
McCann has discovered the perfect blend on Country Medicine. Depending on your starting point, it's rock influenced country or vice versa. Brokenwing Bird is the kind of band track that is instantly a fans' favourite, while Joe's Bones has a solitary darkness that makes it unforgettable.
The effect of the album is a cumulative one, each track adds something a little different to the experience. None overshadows the other and certainly none are superfluous.
If there are standout tracks then it is comes down to personal choice. For me Sleeping With Ghosts is as close to the complete 'Americana' track as you can get, driving hard but full of honest feeling. Cocaine Stole is a runaway train of a song and to round things off there is an affectionate cover of Jethro Tull's Locomotive Breath. You're never going to get consensus about songs as good as this.
There's even the added bonus of an unlisted song at the end. It still mystifies me why they do that. Why not credit the track and make it 13 great songs instead of 12? It can't be superstition can it? Now that would be ironic because the one thing Country Medicine will not rely on is luck. In the midst of all this wonderful country rock, it would be too easy to overlook the contribution of the exotically named Ten Toed Frogs. To say that they aid and abet McCann in his envdeavours would be to suggest a supporting role. Forget it, Dave Bauer, Mel Smith, Sandy Switzer, Danny Patton, Ross Watson, Jake Peters, Jenny Allen and Gary Kurtz are the reason that Country Medicine is as good as it is.
There may seem to be a cast of thousands but their contribution is vital to an album that is the perfect antidote to the plastic world in which most of us live.
Michael Mee
This particular Tommy McCarthy (not to be confused with the famed Clare concertina player) is a young singer from an Irish Traveller family in Birr, County Offaly; he grew up surrounded by the singing of his late mother, her father and aunts and uncles. He now lives in London, where in 2008 he sang in public for the first time at a singing session at Cecil Sharp House, after which he was engaged to sing at folk clubs, on BBC radio and at prominent folk festivals such as Sidmouth (where he appeared in the Travellers' Special event along with Sheila Stewart, Jim Eldon, the Leggs and the Orchards).
Tommy's singing has been compared to that of Joe Heaney, and, while I can hear a certain kinship in his enthusiastic and natural carrying forward of what might be called the "old-style" sean-nós tradition, that doesn't seem to be the whole story (and for a start, there's a major difference in that Tommy sings in English). It's not easy listening, but I find Tommy's delivery intensely compelling in its own charmingly rough-hewn way – formidable, and often intricately decorated, but strangely mesmerising.
The story behind Round Top Wagon (Tommy's first CD) is that he evidently much impressed Ron Kavana, who was sufficiently "blown away by his beautifully controlled and profoundly moving performance" (at the Keith Summers festival) to agree to record him for posterity. Tommy's selection of material here, though representing the tip of the iceberg of his repertoire, brings together songs that have passed down through his family (like the "very very old" Clasped To The Pig) alongside some composed by his grandfather John McCarthy (Down That Road and Round Top Wagon), "Pops" Johnny Connors (the spirited nonsense of Gum Shellac) and two by Tommy himself (There Was A Time and Sweet Kinnitty).
Even folk specialists are unlikely to know these songs (and even those which sport quite familiar titles, like A Cushla, aren't what you think they'll be); included here are some fantastic discoveries (not the least of which is the hilarious No Balls At All, written by Tommy's mother's cousin!). Tommy composed the song Felix And Johnny Doran jointly with Ron Kavana as a tribute to the legendary travelling uilleann piper Johnny and his brother (the last of the travelling pipers), and on this recording it's followed by a set of tunes recorded at a lively Ennis session, on the final tune of which (Rakish Paddy) he's joined by half-a-dozen musicians. Ron's original jig (Pat McCarthy's) that's appended to the pounding lilt of The Wedding is blessed with the whistle playing of fellow-traveller Mickey Dunne and a characterful backing chorus of singers and musicians.
But aside from occasional further instrumental contributions from Ron, and some chorus contributions from Ron and the sweet-voiced Annie Armstrong, much of the disc is pure unadulterated Tommy, singing entirely unaccompanied – and gloriously too. And the wagon itself adds to the record's atmosphere by making a cameo appearance at the close of the disc. The presentation is adept, with notes both by Ron and Tommy himself; and song lyrics are gradually being posted on the label's website. This fascinating release is well worth tracking down; it's probably easiest to get it from Veteran Mail Order www.veteran.co.uk
David Kidman February 2011
Debby's latest release is a delicious compendium based round a theme that's been close to her heart for many, many years. Subtitled The Legacy Of Charlie Poole, this lovely collection centres round a clutch of (nine) songs that Charlie and his North Carolina Ramblers popularised in the late 20s, supplementing these with other songs from that era. The latter category brings together material that might well have been important to Charlie: songs of mill-workers, vaudeville and traditional jazz pieces not covered by him, and also a mountain ballad possibly sung at his time. Fittingly, Debby can be seen as a true heir to Charlie's legacy, for, like Charlie and his Ramblers, Debby takes all these (seemingly disparate) types of material and presents them in what's very much an old-time mountain style, principally to the accompaniment of her own banjo and/or guitar (and here, on a small handful of tracks, the harmonica of our old buddy Dave Peabody). And remember that Charlie's Ramblers were originally mill-workers from what is now Eden, North Carolina, and so no doubt they would have known and appreciated the Dixon Brothers' Weave Room Blues, which Debby covers on this CD (the opening snatch of melody of which rather intriguingly bears exceeding-close resemblance to D-Day Dodgers!). But as I said at the outset, although it's the songs associated with Charlie himself that form the heart of this collection, Debby has managed to achieve a striking and satisfying sense of unity by dint of her deeply affectionate and genuinely loving interpretations of the material, characterised by an intensity of commitment and true respect both for her sources and her audience. Some of the choices (eg Vandy Vandy, Carolina Mountain Home and Sail Away Ladies) have been in Debby's live repertoire for some considerable time, yet she clearly never grows tired of singing them, for there's a wonderful quality of freshness to these new recordings. Several of the uptempo songs (like Chesapeake Bay, Leaving Home and It's Movin' Day) are delectable creations, with quite fiendish choruses that tax the memory but in an insidiously catchy manner, and Debby conveys their essence with gusto (just you catch that wickedly gleeful chuckle in her voice on You Ain't Talking To Me!). However, it's clear too that Debby relishes singing these every bit as much as she does the more poignant items such as The Letter That Never Came, where she expresses the requisite emotions so very naturally and tellingly; Debby's unaccompanied rendition of Sweet Sunny South is another highlight of the CD, extremely moving. Having concentrated thus far on the songs and Debby's singing of them, I mustn't neglect to stress also that Debby's banjo frailing is, as ever, exemplary, and its contribution to the appeal (and authenticity) of the whole album should not be underestimated. This is a totally charming and self-recommending release.
David Kidman, June 2006
The spirit of Patsy Cline hovers over the opening A Girl Can Dream and the torchy Cry On My Shoulder with its upright bass, while Victoria Day (May Flowers) is vintage Carl Perkins rock n roll swing, I Blame You posits the cowgirl side of Doris Day and When The Lights Went Off In Hogtown takes a sultry jelly roll stroll through Dixieland in a playful account of the 2003 Toronto blackout.
It's not all old school hayrides, Glenrio drives along on a clanky rhythm that evokes the industrial stomp of Tom Waits (who surely also informs God Loves Me) while Money Shot's a twangy reverb guitar blues and Victoria Day (April Showers) is full of fat horns.
But it's the more laid back retro moods that provide the album's backbone and such memorable moments as the strings laced piano ballad Segovia (a song that bizarrely reminds me of I Don't Want To Play In Your Yard) and the gentle swaying Seasoned Lovers where Ron Sexsmith stops by to offer duet vocals. Switching musical moods and personas to suit the stories she tells while remaining firmly focused, her timeless vocals always relaxed and assured, like the holiday after which it's named, this is cause for celebration.
Mike Davies June 2009
In the 1980's, I had a few weeks in Dallas which has been part of the Texan stamping ground of Delbert McClinton for many a year. Even back then, it seemed like he'd been around forever. If my memory serves me right, he opened up for The Stones as well as playing every beer joint in the state. Though the picture in the sleeve notes is a bit of a pose with Delbert in the centre of a group photo that includes Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Guy Clark, Butch Hancock, Jimmie Dale Gilmore and other luminaries, it shows his place in Texan folklore is established.
It is great to report that his new release, Room To Breathe, has him sounding fresh as a daisy. As the opening Same Kind Of Crazy cranks up, you know that this is a bunch of musicians honed to perfection on a live circuit. As well as the up beat stuff, they can take it down low with the smouldering funk and tasty brass section of Jungle Room. The Rub with its cheesy organ, horns, southern soul and wit to boot is worth the price of entrance alone.
Mind you, it's not all Lone Star magic. For example, I struggle with a track like Blues About You Baby as it sounds too derivative for me – the Texan answer to Status Quo. Nevertheless, there is enough here to warrant your attention if you've not heard of him before. A set of good McClinton compositions and a production that captures the frisson of a live show makes a good memento of the man and his music.
Steve Henderson
The golden-voiced Maranna, who lives in Co. Derry (Dungiven), is already a veteran fleadh singing champion and recipient of the www.LiveIreland.com Vocal Album Of The Year Award: some credentials, and well deserved by all accounts. Her latest album, At Last, marks an exciting new development in her career by showcasing four of her own compositions: these are mostly inspired by her personal observations of life, ancient legends and her own spiritual beliefs, yet they're expressed in an accessible and non-exclusive language and as a bonus couched in a musically eminently radio-friendly language; Fraser Island is particularly beguiling, I find. The originals sit well alongside Maranna's lithe, appealingly contoured treatments of traditional songs, which not only fully reflect the singer's effervescent personality but also accord ideally with the musical settings. These are formed out of genial acoustic-based arrangements and centred around Brian Baynes' crisp yet full-toned production, with his own guitar and mandolin and Eric Rigler's uilleann pipes and whistles well to the fore, and set the seal on a decidedly attractive set. I do however find that due to the slightly over-poppy nature of a few of the settings (where Gerard Nolan's saxophone is to the fore and a more insistent backbeat is employed), much of the record leaves a niggling impression of insubstantiality. It's only 36 minutes long in total, and its ten tracks breeze by and leave little permanent mark beyond a feeling of a wholly pleasing half-hour spent in convivial company. Nothing wrong with that at all, but I still feel there should have been more to it somehow.
www.marannamccloskey.com
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman April 2009
Ewan MacColl was a pre-eminent interpreter of traditional ballads, and over the course of thirty years he recorded no less than five separate ballad anthologies in a total of 28 LPs. This baldly-titled Topic set is a particular gem, gleaming exceeding brightly in among the historic reissues in this label's anniversary series. It gathers together on two exceptionally-well-filled CDs a total of 29 sample recordings from the first of MacColl's ballad anthologies, the eight-LP-set of Child ballads (titled The English And Scottish Popular Ballads) which was released by New York's Riverside Records in 1956 (and itself supplemented by a single LP of non-Child ballads).
These recordings furnish an invaluable glimpse into MacColl's early career, when, it could be said, the revival was little more than a gleam in the eye. These are straightforward readings, and even if at times they might not feel quite fully developed, MacColl's even-then-unerring sense of the dramatic, allied to his commanding delivery, gives them a compelling quality that's hard to fault (certainly not in the cruel and excessive manner that the man's method-singing technique was mercilessly pilloried in later decades); his full-bodied exploration of so many of the great ballads is truly something to savour. Taking account of their serious treatment of the chosen material, these may at first seem to be discs for the connoisseurs and specialists only, but they're actually more deserving of celebration and reassessment today than ever before. The two discs are thematically subtitled Murder And Intrigue and Love And Discord respectively. Included are sterling takes on Cruel Mother and other well-known or since-more-familiar ballads, unashamedly placed alongside lighter (comparatively!) fare and some more-rarely-heard items like Gil Maurice: every one worth hearing.
Compiler Fred McCormick's erudite, sensible (and yet suitably concise) booklet note is exemplary, both in its explanation of the ballad idiom and its reasoned and genuinely contextual assessment of MacColl's achievement. Full texts of all the ballads sung on the two discs are appended too.
Uncompromising MacColl's readings may appear, even to our modern ears, but ultimately satisfying they definitely are. This marvellous set is certainly one to treasure, and I for one would wish to see the remainder of the original 1956 nine-disc series accorded the same treatment and duly reissued.
David Kidman January 2011
This album is classic in both senses - for it's a classic recording of some classic traditional folk ballads. First issued in 1961, it became a seminal part of folks' collections in no time at all, and it was here that many 60s folk revivalists first heard these songs in any form. Think of the performances herein as templates, source recordings if you like, from which (no doubt) folks like Pentangle got I Loved A Lass and Sandy Denny got Banks Of The Nile. Done to a simple guitar and/or banjo accompaniment, these recordings might now be termed a tad primitive, but such is the sincere and wholly authoritative power of the singers' interpretations that little else matters, for they are "doing their job" - ie. actually communicating the songs, their essence and their story. More than that, actually, as you'll hear. (Of course, there were eyebrows raised at first at the idea of Peggy and her Appalachian-style banjo tackling some of the Scots ballads, but remember the British roots of these songs stretched far and wide into the States. ) As well as the noted tales of love lost and won, including some prime examples from the Child collection (The Gardener Chyld, Hughie Grame, The Elfin Knight), many incorporating a supernatural theme, there's some lesser-known Scottish folk poetry too; and it's not all gloom, doom and murder by any means, as the deliciously ribald The Maid Gaed To The Hill, the bothy song The Monymusk Lads and the spirited Jacobite song Aikendrum all demonstrate. These performances really do stand the test of time, and how! For the overwhelmingly confident and convincing interpretations work to provide a riveting listen that's rarely matched in modern reinterpretations of the material. Ewan's authentic delivery in the natural dialect is well complemented by Peggy's lovely harmony singing, although his voice spinetinglingly commands your attention on its own at all times. The presentation of this reissue is exemplary too, with the extensive original liner notes printed in full within the booklet and original cover art faithfully reproduced too. Don't hesitate to get this splendid reissue in your collection, it really is one of the finest examples of its kind.
David Kidman January 2007
This disc is a straightforward reissue of a late-50s album that is at once a classic and a curiosity. It's a classic because it presents two of the greatest interpreters of folksong in their prime, on fine form singing a collection of songs and shanties from the maritime tradition, whereas it's a curiosity because it presents the pieces in a style of interpretation which – at any rate in the maritime repertoire - has by now to a large extent passed out of performance tradition (what we nowadays get is mostly polarised between on one hand the intentionally authentic rendition and on the other hand the bland "tourist" version). What is important to realise it that on this disc Ewan and Bert brought to the attention of general folk music enthusiasts a whole sub-genre of song which had not previously had wide currency outside of the maritime specialist coterie. Ewan's erudite liner note, which is reproduced in full here, explains and details the various types of song included here - principally shanties and forebitters - and the recordings include an almost equal quotient of each. Generally speaking, the shanties are performed acappella, and at a credible speed (and in a rough-and-tumble manner) that conforms to their function as worksongs; these may sound primitive, but that's absolutely as it should be - no sanitised jolly-mariners renditions here! The forebitters (songs sung by sailors "to embellish their leisure time"), which include variants of broadside ballads on seafaring subjects, love and romance, are performed with a modicum of instrumental accompaniment - here courtesy of Alf Edwards (concertina), Ralph Rinzler (mandolin, guitar and banjo) and the trusty Steve Benbow (guitar). Any occasional stiltedness is more than compensated for by the authoritative nature of the singing. The CD transfer is mostly excellent, although I did note some tape-flutter on Do Me Ama. For those who only know the likes of South Australia and Whup Jamboree from the rather "safe" pub-singalong Spinners versions, going back to these lustier, rougher renditions will be a breath of fresh sea-air. Another important reissue.
David Kidman January 2007
Since winning the 2005 BBC Radio 2 Young Folk Award, fiddler Lauren has recorded two CDs under her own name: 2007's When Leaves Fall and now an even finer new one, Strewn With Ribbons. On both albums, her extraordinary talents have been placed in the context of a trio lineup, aptly named The MacCollective, comprising a guitarist (Barry Reid from Croft No. 5) and a pianist (on Strewn it's Mhairi Hall, who's lately replaced James Ross).
Strewn With Ribbons is arguably an even more classy product than its predecessor, and proves even more conclusively Lauren's flair for unearthing and creatively adapting tunes from old manuscripts (here the collections of William Christie, Donald Grant, Charles Grant and William Morrison). On this new album in particular, Lauren is shown to have a special gift for exploring the gentler and more reflective side of the repertoire, with some extremely attractive performances of slow airs figuring large here. Several of these quickly count as album highlights, from the gorgeous opening, a transcription of the song Oigfhear A Chuil Duinn, and the more thickly scored 'S Trom Trom A Tha Mi (with guest Su-A Lee providing an elegant and luxurious cello line) to the endearing portrait of Honesty (one of five of Lauren's own compositions on the disc). But the pair of laments is if anything even more striking: the intense, spectral timbre of the Lament For Mr. Thomas Grant Of Glen Elgin contrasting with the haunting closing Lament For The Death Of Hugh Allan, which Lauren plays entirely solo.
When in company, Lauren's superbly lyrical playing is inevitably placed right at the centre of the sound-picture, but her sensitivity of attack and her genuine skill in dynamic shading ensures that the melodies breathe and flourish and her technique, though still remarkable, remains admirably unobtrusive. On the faster selections, Lauren's vibrant playing is marked by her constant refusal to resort to heavy-handedness or hammer the rhythms home even when a buildup of tempo is called for: there's a wonderfully playful touch, a commendable lightness in her bold syncopations, which her fellow-musicians are able to relish along with her. The set of reels from the Donald Grant collections (placed midway through the disc) is a case in point, while the typically snappy strathspey-led set (track 2, which also includes two of Lauren's own tunes) and the Happy Hours reel-medley (on which Lauren enjoys sparring with guest Donald Shaw's accordion) are both well nigh irresistible too.
Lauren's sense of adventure when adapting tunes from published collections is evidenced with her decision to treat The Banks Of The Deveron slowly and delicately here, having previously recorded a fast-paced version with flautist Calum Stewart and Andy May (check out Calum's Earlywood album, reviewed here a few months back). Producer Chris Stout (who also guests on viola) knows exactly how Lauren should sound, and he's achieved a faithful and highly persuasive representation of Lauren's artistry, her winning combination of elegance, strength and vigour.
David Kidman July 2009
There's an artless charm to McCombs' songwriting that carries over into his singing, the musicianship of his excellent band, and the invisible yet somehow perfect production. Influences ranging from Donovan to Tim Hardin and Neil Young are vaguely discernible, yet there's also a powerful individual presence, one which is both dreamlike and incredibly focused. Who else could create such unsettling beauty from a string of platitudes about job satisfaction, as Cass McCombs does on 'The Executioner's Song'? Who would have a rhythm section play machine-like grooves that are almost Krautrock in execution, and overlay them with the loveliest pedal steel solos you are ever likely to hear?
Cass McCombs' previous album Dropping The Writ had many great moments. What's special about Catacombs is the addition of that elusive something that makes a collection of unrelated songs into a satisfying whole, the pursuit of a unique internal logic to a beautiful conclusion. This is the sound of potential being realised - and how.
Sam Inglis, Features Editor, Sound On Sound magazine, June 2009
This fabulous musician just gets better and better it seems - and every record he makes represents a significant step forward in at least one aspect. But Tommy On Song, a natural followup to Tommy On The Bridge, both chooses to emphasise how great a singer Tom is (in addition to his proven fiddle skills), and highlights just how much Tom's past couple of years playing and touring with those vibrant and immensely gifted young musicians Claire Mann and Aaron Jones has galvanised his already fertile musical imagination onto a higher plane. So how could they not appear on Tom's latest solo album? - and a tremendous contribution they make too, providing so much in the way of unassumingly inventive detail, paying such careful attention to integrating dynamics and responsiveness within the overall texture. And once again, how abundantly well Tom's chosen sound engineer Ron Angus has captured the musical personalities of all the participants and the special nuances they bring to their playing.
The usual hallmarks of Tom's own music-making are present too in all their glory: the deeply expressive bowing, just like another human voice in its telling contours when it ventures its gorgeous swooping harmonies in counterpoint with his singing, as here on Phil Ochs' When I'm Gone (set aside yer average, decidedly flat cover, this one really penetrates its inspirational core). Now however well I think I have the measure of Tom, there are almost always surprises in store within his choice of songs on each new CD, and this set proves no exception. It opens in splendidly energetic mode with a robust and exhilarating portrayal of the itinerant Geordie working man (Mark Knopfler's Why Aye, Man) that's so exuberant I kept expecting it to break into Rawhide! This highlights an interesting development in Tom's singing since his last CD (or maybe it's just the choice of songs?), whereby his vocal delivery seems altogether tougher and more forthright and instead of concentrating on maintaining an even, keening flow of melody line he now also at times employs some more exaggerated gestures, often semi-spoken, for expressive effect. This shift continues through the new CD, more noticeable on the racier songs like Jez Lowe's The Net Me Father Left Me. But there are key moments of lyricism and resilience-in-repose too, with Kieran Halpin's fine Azalea and the rarely-heard, intensely beautiful Allan Taylor song Firefly. And I need to credit some lovely harmony vocal contributions (on several tracks), courtesy of Sally Johnson as well as Claire and Aaron.
No CD of Tom's would be complete without a scattering of instrumental tracks, and here we can marvel at the freewheeling flamboyance Tom brings to the Gateshead Hornpipe, a tune he's known forever and knows just what he can do with in the space of a mere couple of minutes - and yet the spontaneity he conveys is miraculous. As is the delightful little cajun-style waltz Tom wrote for the grandson of his violin-maker, the late Mick Johnson. And again, Tom's facility of combining songs with appropriate tunes works wonders elsewhere: reminiscences of session tunes are woven through his fitting rendition of All The Tunes In The World, then he reaches a zenith on the disc's finale, where he so captivatingly caps Archie Fisher's poignant and knowing Fiddle Farewell with a memorial tune by Jerry Holland (although I do hope that this song, with its heavenly choir of fiddle tones, isn't to be taken literally, in the sense of signalling that Tom's ready to hang up his bow and retire his fiddle in its case). I suspect there'll be ne'er a dry eye in the house at the close of this disc. Jeez, man, it's good. No - seriously sublime.
David Kidman August 2008
This release begins deceptively simply, with Alyth's spine-tingling, beautifully fragile unaccompanied vocal breathing life into the traditional Gaelic song MhicShiridh; thereafter, a further eleven songs are given a more ambitious treatment by producer Jim Sutherland which encompasses some particularly cool instrumental work and on some tracks a greater degree of programmed percussion; this does not swamp the singing, however, being intelligently conceived and delicately layered to reflect and counterpoint both the ebb and flow of the texts and the heart-stopping textural delicacy of Alyth's voice.
Instrumentalists appearing here include Aidan O'Rourke, Mary MacMaster, Rory Campbell, Davey Trouton, Neil Harland and Kevin Mackenzie, and their contributions are all faithfully captured by the excellently clear recording (the only, minor flaw being the overly close balance given to the piano at times). The arrangements are actually quite unusual, with deft and sparky rhythmic twists and turns, and worlds away from the thick, washy Celtic mush of some latterday fusion music. Take the strident fiddle work on A Fhleasgaich Óig, and the thumping piano dissonances on Ó Mo Dhúthaich, contrasted with the smooth, dark cello lines on Dheannain Súgradh, and the apt use of electronic sounds on the downright scary closer MacCrimmon.
One unforgivable omission, however, which devalues the total package somewhat, is some notes on, or at the very least a summary of the texts of, the songs. But aurally, this is a really mesmerising album that deserves many repeated plays at close listening quarters.
www.alyth.com
www.verticalrecords.co.uk
David Kidman
If you've already encountered Manchester-born Jenny, you may be as confused as I was to read that English Country Garden is being promoted as her debut CD. This is, however, blatantly not the case, for I recall that around two years ago I reviewed (for The Living Tradition magazine, as it happens) a more than promising CD by Jenny entitled Me, I Prefer The Moon. That disc contained, along with its self-penned title track, at least three other songs which also crop up on English Country Garden (though I've not yet been able to check whether the actual recordings are identical as I can't lay my hands on the earlier CD just at the moment!).
However, having got that misconception-cum-deception out of the way, what we have with English Country Garden is a truly delightful disc, one that tends to underplay the Kate-Rusby-soundalike angle and concentrate more on Jenny's own special qualities. (Actually, the more I think about it, the more I suspect that following comments I made in the original review Jenny's had a rethink, done some more recording that more strongly forges her own identity, and has now gotten re-branded.)
Even so, hearing her own composition Don't Be Cruel, you could be easily forgiven for believing that Jenny has fully embraced Kate Rusby as her role model – such is the "dead ringer" impression created by her pure-toned and youthful vocal inflections and "regional accent" vowel sounds, the simple chordal phrasing of her strummed guitar style and the wandering, floating slow-waltz tempo of the song itself. But to dismiss Jenny as a Rusby clone would be immensely unfair, and unfortunate in the extreme, for she has many more individual facets to her talent, not least her personable songwriting. Indeed, the very title of this new CD turns out to be a peculiarly accurate indication of where Jenny's at, for it's not a namecheck for the slightly twee dance tune and song of that name but a clever portrayal of Jenny's musical sensibilities, her dual empathy with traditional English folk song and country music of the backwoods-garden kind (tho' I find she's been compared to both Anne Briggs and Lucinda Williams, with shades of Kathryn Williams hanging out in the background!). Jenny's singing voice is a breathy, ostensibly fragile timbre that belies its latent expressive potential, especially for conveying a gently melancholy quality. On this album, Jenny intersperses some striking personal reworkings of four traditional songs with seven of her own haunting compositions; of the former, her take on Blackwater Side is particularly original and compelling, but I also really liked her interpretation of Go From My Window (which opens the disc), even if in comparison her House Carpenter maybe underplays the drama of the ballad to some extent. Jenny's own songwriting activity has resulted in some enchanting compositions which in their poetic expressivity reflect her ambition to be a writer: The Fisherboy is directly inspired by traditional sources, but the remainder are more tellingly personal, purveying a healthy optimism in the face of often quite desperate emotional crises and states. The album was recorded simply and effectively at home (another point of comparison with Ms Rusby and her clan, but we shouldn't do anything but note that in passing), but it sounds great – intimate and immediate. I understand that the fine supporting musician Kevin McCormick (mandolin and guitar) is Jenny's father, but the disc also contains some exceptional double bass playing from Jon Thorne and Stuart Eastham, with banjo and harmonica on a couple of tracks courtesy of Tom Barnes, piano by Rob Fowler and percussion by Paddy Steer. There's just one minor aspect of the recording that still troubles me a little, and I can't be sure of my ground since I've not yet managed to see Jenny perform live; it's a concern that I noted in my earlier review, whereby on record at least (and more noticeably on some tracks than others), her voice seems to possess a slightly artificial (treated?) "girly" timbre. But that aside, all in all this CD is a very persuasive advocate for Jenny as an individual emerging talent.
David Kidman January 2008
Steve McCormick - Lowlight And Footnotes (Own Label)
Steve's probably easiest termed a loosely Americana-styled singer-songwriter based near Carlisle, with an appealingly individual angle on the genre. Basically, his clever, observational take on all things country comes from a very English perspective, as much reminiscent of Squeeze (very much so at times, in fact) as (say) Bob Cheevers or Robbie Fulks. Having said that, there's plenty of commendably self-deprecating humour amidst his pithy commentaries. For instance, My Woman Doesn't Give A Damn comes on like Billy Bragg meets the Burritos – great stuff… Maybe the opener Another English Cowboy goes a little too far towards self-parody, with a hint of over-deliberate point-making, but as a general rule Steve makes all the right noises and his songs wear a badge of conviction that overrides the very occasional feeling of contrivance. You can hear there's potential for songs such as The Other Man and Breaking Hearts being covered by other artists too. The conviction in his lyrics is backed with a knowing empathy with the genre in which he evidently feels musically most comfortable, for on this his debut CD, he plays all the instruments himself (aside from pedal steel, for which he brings in Dave Midgley). Impressive. Yeah: Steve's alright, Jack!
David Kidman December 2008
Del McCoury - High Lonesome & Blue (Rounder Heritage)
One of the latest instalments in Rounder's ongoing thirty-part Heritage series concentrates on a true cornerstone of the bluegrass scene, the celebrated singer (and no mean guitar player) Del McCoury. There's no denying that Del, perennial winner of IBMA awards and recent Grand Ol' Opry inductee, is the possessor of one of the most soulful voices in bluegrass today. This compilation gathers together no less than 16 of his definitive recordings made for the Rounder label between 1987 and 1996, at a time when Del was on the cusp of his now burgeoning popularity with audiences within bluegrass, country and rock. Del's joint album with brother Jerry (1987's McCoury Brothers) is the origin of three of the cuts on this compilation, whereas Del's four subsequent 90s solo albums for Rounder are sourced more or less evenly – four tracks apiece from Blue Side Of Town and Don't Stop The Music, three from A Deeper Shade Of Blue and just two from the latest, Cold Hard Facts. Having said that, Del's career with Rounder actually began with the landmark album High On A Mountain, released way back in 1972; although no tracks from that debut are included here, the version of its title track which Del re-recorded for 1992's Blue Side Of Town appears here instead. These really are classic performances, and every song's a great one; among the musts for inclusion on any compilation featuring Del are his own I Feel The Blues Moving In, which has become a session favourite and recorded by all manner of artists from Slaid Cleaves to the Parton/Harris/Ronstadt "trio" to the Cox Family, and Del's first tryout of a Steve Earle number (If You Need A Fool), seven whole years before his high-profile collaboration The Mountain. Del's expertise with typical lively, snappy treatments is well known, but his versatility outside of hoedown-tempo and medium-fast workouts is demonstrated on the altogether slower Old Memories Mean Nothing To Me. But in tandem with Del's own artistry, this compilation can't help but focus also on the contributions made by his brothers Rob, Ronnie and Jerry, and the natural empathy he achieves with all other band members. You can't put a foot wrong with this collection, a great introduction to Del. Essential bluegrass, sure!
David Kidman
Every now and again you get one that shines out from the rest. There are lots of young American string bands putting out CDs but most fail to fully satisfy for one reason or another. Here is one that does the business. Chance McCoy is a young fiddler and a rapidly rising star in the world of American traditional music. For this CD, his first, he has assembled a hand-picked band of top class musicians to work through nineteen tracks of fully traditional material.
The first thing that comes across is the band's sincere respect and admiration for the original source material and the musicians who played it. They position the music as the hero. They resist the temptation to "improve" it. The band is at the service of the music. They just play it skilfully and tastefully. A recipe for successs. The resulting music says everything that needs to be said.
So many bands have a "we're the stars" approach, putting themselves and their image in first place and the music second. This leads directly to errors of musical judgement and taste and usually delivers the opposite effect to that which is hoped for, which is why they don't satisfy. Those who try to impress for example, with how quick they can play don't deserve a second listen. There is more to music than mere speed and it is an insult to the intelligence of the audience. On this CD you can enjoy every note beautifully articulated without a hint of flavour blur.
Outstanding is their working of "Gospel Plow" with Chance McCoy on banjo and Adam Hurt supplying some very tasteful "Duet Style" banjo in support, ably showing the magical and intriguing sound which two banjos can make together. Chance sings well too, eschewing all the fashionable "country" vocal mannerisms, giving honest and straightforward singing with Aimee Curl doing a superb job of supplying female harmony on several tracks. Chance sings a fine and moving version of "Little Birdie" and accompanies himself on banjo. Also notable is "Little Rose is Gone", a Wilson Douglas tune done as a lovely and haunting fiddle and banjo duet by Chance and Adam. These are just my personal highlights from nineteen excellent tracks.
If you enjoy American Old Time Music there's plenty on this disc for you and something tasty for everybody whatever their predilection. It would have earned the sincere respect and admiration of those who played and recorded the music first time around and now so long ago. They would have understood it perfectly. The CD is available from CD Baby at $15 or as MP3 downloads but is not otherwise widely distributed which is a shame as a lot more people would like to know about it. So here's your chance (no pun intended) to be in on a best kept secret.
www.myspace.com/chancemccoy
www.cdbaby.com/cd/chancemccoy
Roger Young January 2009
A favourite of both Bob Harris and Lucinda Williams, the Sidney born, LA based singer-songwriter and mean slide guitarist follows 2004's stupendous Roll with an album that effortlessly takes her to the next level.
Featuring appearances from Williams, John Doe, Jim Lauderdale and Nancy Wilson, it's informed by both her love of early 70s music (As The Crow Flies could have come from a Crazy Horse session) and the collapsing state of the modern world.
Opening with the swampy strutting raunch of Driving Down Alvarado ("take me down to the place where the monsters graze" she sings as guitars wail behind her), she switches musical moods for From Bakersfield To Saigon, a horny country journey that welds sex and an implied vein of politics. Then, just to pack another punch, along comes Any Minute Now feeding on the apocalyptic paranoia and anxiety that curdle in the blood of All Along The Watchtower and Gimme Shelter and pressing them into a Motown groove.
Expanding the last album''s guitar based trio with Carl Byron's keyboards adding muscle and texture to the solid Texan rhythm section of Dusty Wakeman and Dave Raven, she crafts a full and brooding musical landscape. One across which roam such disturbing numbers as Jesus's Blood with its bitter attack on a curdled Catholicism and cases of paedophilia rumbling through an almost madrigal setting.
It's not all so heavy or musically intense. The gently acoustic, tenderly passionate love song Coming To You, a pure voiced backwoods hymnal Shivers ("take me back to the source of this flame"), the bluegrass slow rolling Bright Light of Day (a reverie coming home after a night with her lover), the gloriously full-blooded poppy Lay Me Down and even the Lucinda and Beatles flavoured bittersweet Sweet Burden of Youth all glimmer with the light of hope.
Closing up with the twangy guitar instrumental title track and its images of neon washed night streets and stories of love and hurt, loss and salvation behind stained windows, it marks a major leap forward for an artist rapidly earning a reputation as one of the finest new voices of the present century.
Mike Davies, August 2006
Anne McCue - Roll (Cooking Vinyl)
A declared favourite of both Bob Harris and Lucinda Williams, singer-songwriter and a mean slide guitarist to boot McCue is Americana by way of Sydney, Australia and a musical upbringing that embraced such diversity as Erik Satie and Nick Cave. A stint on the Lilith Fair tours saw her relocate to LA, notching up tour supports with such luminaries as Williams, Richard Thompson and Dave Alvin.
Having released the pop flavoured debut Amazing Ordinary Things and a live album recorded at San Francisco's legendary Fillmore on the Williams tour, she now steps up a level with this cocktail of Delta inclined country/folk blues n rock that embraces influences that run the gamut from The Byrds (Stupid) and Lucinda (Crazy Beautiful Child) to Zeppelin/Robert Johnson (Hangman), Patti Smith (the venomous Ghandi) and Hendrix whose Machine Gun she covers in a nine minute one take burst of blistering, vitriolic guitar.
Her folk leanings surface gently on the leafily scuffed, sun hazed Milkman's Daughter while the spare broken-hearted bruise of 50 Dollar Whore points up those formative Beatles influences and the opening I Want You Back (which lyric checks the opening line of High Noon) is probably the closest she gets to guitar riding alt-country, but mostly this is an album dominated by bluesy riffs as tough-minded as lyrics spawned from a fair few car wreck romances. Despite the ballads, you get the feeling that it's raunch that characterises her live shows and, impressive as the album is that's probably where she really hits home, though with several numbers already clocking in well past the five minute mark it's to be hoped that she's not prone to extended jams.
Mike Davies
Alistair's impressive CV includes winning the Scottish National Fiddle Championship in three not-quite-successive years in the early 90s, and a stint as a member of "supergroup" Cantarach; for the past ten years he's led the Ayrshire-based band Coila. Alistair's earlier solo album for Fellside, Highly Strung, was one of those exceedingly accomplished offerings that just demanded an immediate encore, yet only now has Wired Up finally hit the racks. Do I hear complaints from puzzled Marx Brothers fans here? For it isn't quite a natural followup, because although it certainly continues the trend of showcasing Alistair's considerable skills as an instrumentalist, the range of its repertoire is far narrower, concentrating this time round much more on a mixture of Scottish material and Alistair's own compositions. These blend very naturally and instinctively, and make for a beautifully paced listening experience. Perhaps Alistair's special strength as a musician lies in combining an easy virtuosity with a true gift for bringing out the melody lines - you might feel that nowhere is this more apparent than in the slow airs like Sarah's Song (composed by Phil Cunningham) and Alistair's own Hazelwood, the former especially displaying a supreme degree of almost classical restraint and poise, but I hear it even more in the sprightliness with which Alistair commands the various sets of faster tunes. His purely solo rendition of the Hanged Man's Reel at the end of the CD is striking for its control and musicality (where so many performers lose grip in trying to rush and impress). There's no lack of drive in the rest of the tracks either; these feature, variously, Alistair backed expertly by pianist Morag Macaskill (his accompanist at championships), fellow-Cantarach member Angus Lyon on accordion and keyboards, erstwhile Capercaillie colleague Marc Duff on whistles and veteran of many lineups Aaron Jones on bouzouki and guitar, among others. The set of reels forming track 5 in particular storms along like nobody's business, culminating in a whirlwind version of Amy Wood's modern classic Catharsis that's only marred by the decision to fade! This fine selection should appeal equally to fiddle fanciers and those who just love good tunes well played and simply but effectively arranged.
David Kidman
Under One Sky is an ambitious, hour-long vocal and instrumental suite by John McCusker, performed by twelve of the most acclaimed folk artistes from Scotland and England: John Tams, Jim Causley, Julie Fowlis, Roddy Woomble, Andy Cutting, Ian Carr, Ewen Vernal, James Mackintosh, Graham Coxon, Iain MacDonald, Emma Reid, and McCusker himself. Some (Causley, Tams, Fowlis, Coxon and Woomble) only make one cameo appearance, but all are pre-eminent in their own sphere of activity, naturally.
Musically, Under One Sky is an all-embracing work which demonstrably embodies the simple universal truth that "there is only one sky and we all live under it". Most of the seven movements making up the suite are of sectional construction, comprising a sequence of tunes and/or songs which are combined creatively into an artistic whole without compromising the integrity of these individual pieces in any way. Notwithstanding the intentionally strongly unified nature of the suite, each movement has its own special character, as you'd expect.
The opening (title) track is loosely akin to an overture: it's a kind of tone-poem, portraying a scenic tour of traditional Scottish tunes half-remembered you might say - although all bar one of the tunes are John McCusker's own compositions, the fourth being by Ian Carr... of course, the authorship credit is an indicator of just how convincingly these musicians are able to write within the tradition. The actual scoring of the music is felicitous too, making well-defined use of individual instrumental colours and combinations to convey a delightful "arranged-session" vibe; John McCusker has a real gift for this, and Under One Sky must count among his finest achievements in the field.
The second movement is a masterly piece that wears its twelve-minute span lightly: it conjoins two poignant original songs by John Tams (Will I See Thee More and Hush A Bye), fondly sung by Jim Causley and Tam respectively, with a fabulous McCusker tune (Rosaleen's Waltz) forming the bridge between the two. Further contrast in timbre and mood occurs with the third movement, on which a contrasted pair of songs composed and performed by Julie Fowlis (the lyrical 'S Tusa Thilleas and the breathtaking mouth music of Banais Bhaile) find themselves ably counterpointed by three sprightly tunes, whirling to a jazzy conclusion with Touche Pas.
Roddy's principal contribution comes with the fourth movement, which brings together his wonderfully atmosphere-laden Long Time Past and Lavender Hill, and to which the ensuing, admirably lithe tune-set (which includes one of Andy's tunes) provides an effective foil, whereas Graham's turn in the spotlight comes with the suite's penultimate movement, All Has Gone - inevitably the work's most contemporary-sounding episode but not jarring in the slightest. If I've any criticism of the suite, it's that it feels a little unbalanced, since the more extended and substantial items occur early on, while the final movement, a pair of sparkling McCusker-penned jigs, might be considered less of a progression or conclusion and takes on more of the role of a crowd-pleaser finale.
The accompanying booklet contains copious biographical notes on the musicians, but (reasonably enough) allows the music to speak for itself: all very well, but room could (and should) have been found, I'm sure, for a translation of Julie's lyrics. But these are minor points when set alongside the finely-coordinated arrangements and the array of superlative musicianship on display.
www.underonesky.co.uk
www.navigatorrecords.co.uk
David Kidman December 2008
John McCusker - Yella Hoose/ Goodnight Ginger (Navigator)
This sensibly-mid-priced set forms a timely reissue of John's second and third solo albums, originally released in 2000 and 2003 respectively, and here presented in freshly remastered guise. It also forms a salutary reminder of just how long John's been around the folk scene as a consummate instrumentalist (fiddle, whistles, cittern) not to mention a much-in-demand session-man. And there's also the undeniable fact that when the first of these two CDs was made he'd already chalked up over a decade in the mighty Battlefield Band!
Of course, the past five years have seen John occupied twenty-five hours a day with special projects and joint ventures of various kinds (his latest, Under One Sky, is already proving a sizeable hit), but it's still good to hear him relaxing into what he's always done so well - playing and writing tunes in a defiantly musical, non-frenetic style - for two whole albums' worth. Revisiting these records after the passage of time proves a very worthwhile exercise, too, for they're replete with a thoroughly unassuming virtuosity, and a command of - and respect for - the tradition, both qualities which have long been John's trademarks. Some of the material originates from John's Battlefield days, but there's no appreciable difference in quality over the years - indeed, the consistency is quite uncanny. It's indicative, too, that much of the material is predominantly lyrical.
On each album, John has proudly recruited a staggering array of guest musicians, all of whom clearly believe in, and greatly respect, John's talent, and who contribute greatly to the carefully-arranged sound picture. It's like a who's-who of trusty folk and roots sessioners: Ian Carr, Andy Cutting, Tim O'Brien, Darrell Scott, Michael McGoldrick, Simon Thoumire, Gino Lupari, all brilliant and intuitive musicians. And (perhaps inevitably, given the time-frame of these recordings) there's a cameo vocal track by Kate Rusby on each of the discs: perfectly in tune with the gentle, restrained and tasteful mood of the rest of the menu. Although I marginally prefer the balance and content of Goodnight Ginger over Yella Hoose, both albums satisfy much and are recommended for close listening in order to fully appreciate the intimate and intricate - and musically intelligent - arrangements.
David Kidman January 2009
This release has strong connections with Flame Of Wine by Lasarfhíona (which coincidentally I've reviewed very recently too), in two respects: that Inishere (Aran Islands) native MacDara Ó Conaola is Lasarfhíona's brother, and that The Love Token also uses the same co-producer (Máire Breatnach) together with an almost identical cast of backing musicians (in this case Bill Shanley, Mick O'Brien, Danny Dyrt, Paul Gunning, Johnny McDonagh and Máire herself). Lasarfhíona herself even appears on backing vocals on two of the tracks. MacDara's singing shares with his sister's a predominantly gentle quality and timbre, which proves most attractive on a wide range of material on this, his debut release. Musically at any rate, that range may prove a mite too wide for some listeners, for in encompassing some quite adventurous arrangements alongside the fairly orthodox trad-arr guitar, fiddle, whistle and bodhrán accompaniments I'm not entirely sure that it all quite hangs together - even though MacDara's voice provides the all-important unifying factor and he's evidently totally at ease with his chosen material. But almost every track turns out to have a special virtue - and character - all its own, from very appealing renditions of two contrasting traditional songs Baile Uí Laoi (Ballylee) and Stóirín Geal Mo Chroí, through to the romantic swoon of dance-floor country-cajun (Webb Pierce's I Don't Care) and the carefree, relaxed free-wheeling whimsy of the self-composed It's So Easy. There's an altogether more experimental ambience-enhanced soundscape for the strangely funky lament Án Dún Aengus, whereas in contrast, MacDara adopts an almost cheeky come-on tone for the delicious Buachaillín Deas Óg Mé and Beidh Aonach Amárach. And when singing in English, MacDara is generally every bit as persuasive (although, exceptionally, I do find his setting of By The Roving Of Her Eyes a little bland). For, listening to MacDara, you feel you can almost believe his claim that "someone invented the wheel for me"!...
www.myspace.com/macdaramusic
www.thearansinger.com
David Kidman March 2007
Were there any justice, dust-throated McDermott's 1991 folk rock debut 620 W. Surf should have put him on track to the sort of career enjoyed by Mellencamp and Springsteen, both artists to whom he has been likened. Despite critical acclaim, that didn't happen nor, equally inexplicably, did stunning follow up Gethsemane prove any more successful.
At which point, things took a stumble as the now 23 year old Irish-Catholic Chicagoan found himself lured by the temptations of the road and rock n roll lifestyle, believing that experiencing the gutter would be good for his creativity. It gave him the songs, inspirational numbers infused with his strong religious faith, but he found climbing back out again a harder trick to pull off. Four further albums emerged, though by now he'd lost his major label deal, then came the crunch when, in 2004, he was busted for cocaine possession and locked up in Cook County, Chicago's toughest jail. Realising he'd hit bottom, the consolation was that the only way left was up. An agreement to attend drug school rehab put him back in the world, taking with him the inspiration that would produce the songs about addiction and the search for redemption on this, his eighth album. Ironically, his cell he was the one his still incarcerated father had spent time in some years before for a gun bust. Maybe that gave him pause to see where his own life was heading, it was certainly the impetus to write the aching confessional My Father's Son.
Maybe it's because of the fire in which it was forged, but, largely recorded live, it's his best and most emotionally raw work since the debut. Built around acoustic guitar, dobro, piano and pedal steel, Mess Of Things lays the cards on the table from the start as he looks back to being a strung out addict 'on 23rd waitin' on a friend', caught in New York's black hole of self-destruction, overwhelmed by his loneliness and ability to screw up.
Throughout the album women and God are the straws at which he clutches, looking to help pull himself from the abyss. Relationships founder, regrets weigh down and self-loathing washes in on numbers like the Prine-like Still Ain't Over You Yet, A Kind Of Love Song, Broken, A Long Way From Heaven and the janglingly anthemic The American In Me, a self-examination of both himself and a nation.
But equally, No Words finds hope that he's worth saving, All My Love sees him realising what he's wants from acknowledging what he's lost and the album closes on the magnificent piano ballad Shall Be Healed where he finally comes to the alter and opens himself to be saved.
You don't have to share his faith to be swept up by McDermott's songs, but if you've ever even half-glimpsed the same darkness, this will ring like a chapel bell in the night.
www.michael-mcdermott.com
www.myspace.com/michaelmcdermott
Mike Davies April 2008
This time released on the Levellers' OTF label, the McDermotts crew's latest studio CD brings another glorious set of thoughtful, fresh-sounding, often rabble-rousing songs from the pen of Nick Burbridge. Once again Nick takes traditional-type tune structures as the template and ambit for his brilliantly cogent and alert commentaries on our society. Couched in vital, stirring acoustic-based settings with strong tunes, a logically mighty degree of rhythmic impetus and a perennial abundance of energy in the playing and singing, these new songs are the total embodiment of Nick's unwavering commitment to the dispossessed which as always lends the songs a uniquely plaintive passion and urgency.
Here the McDermott's core lineup of Nick Burbridge (guitar, vocals, bodhrán), Ben Paley (fiddle) and Matt Goorney (bass, ukelele, harmonica, melodica) is augmented by a whole host of musicians including Tim Cotterell, Charlie Heather, Mandy Murray, Calum Stewart and John Brewins, but textures are kept clear and uncluttered and Nick's lyrics remain the unerring focus throughout. And again Nick shows his acute feel for expressing wholly reasoned views on our own times, preoccupations and morals through an unfailingly intelligent use of political narrative and allegory. His creations are songs that grab you from first play, and by second runthrough you almost feel you've known them for ages; I could single out the haunting Stowaway, the wonderfully atmospheric sense of poetry linking Bone's Farewell and All Souls' Night, the wildly catchy Crazy Jane's Day Out... but that would be denigrating the impact of the remainder of the songs, which seriously don't have a weak link among them anywhere. If as on previous albums I hear distinct resonances of the work of Dr. Strangely Strange and Robin Williamson (the latter especially on the phrasing and demeanour of aforementioned Bone's Farewell), well that's not to be taken as any kind of complaint. In fact, all that I said about the previous McDermotts offerings remains true for this new set, which is easily the equal of those (who knows, it might soon surpass them - that is, until I get round to playing one or other of them again!); yes, Goodbye To The Madhouse is surely set to enter the exalted company of both Claws And Wings and Disorder as positively a classic of acoustic-folk-rock.
www.burbridgearts.org
www.levellers.co.uk
David Kidman August 2007
David Kidman
Influential folk band McDermott's Two Hours were named after a hippy who when left in charge of Radio Free Derry for a famous two hours replaced the playlist of rebel songs with the Incredible String Band (good man!). McDermotts were "out-levelling the Levellers in the anarchy stakes when the latter were still wet behind the ears", and the Levs repaid the debt by signing them to their label in the 80s. The bands continue to be firm friends, and this second "vs" collaboration reunites McDermotts' two founder members Nick Burbridge and Tim O'Leary with the Levs' rhythm section (Charlie Heather and Jeremy Cunningham), with Jon Sevink providing extra fiddle on the opening track, The first collaboration between McDermotts and Levellers had allegedly been little more than a bloody good craic, though energetic and inspired; unfortunately it passed me by, so I can't comment, but Claws And Wings turns out to be something very special indeed. It's described on the press handout as "a classic contemporary protest record, which isn't made for 'the business' but for the true listener, drawing on the best elements of the folk-rock tradition to find an authentic, powerful voice". And that's no exaggeration. Elements such as the thoughtful contemporary sensibility, and a healthy open-mindedness in musical expression, with arrangements that are (happily) totally bereft of the worst types of folk-rock cliché (like leaden or thrashy rhythms) and truly serve the lyric content. Heavy-handedness gets no quarter here. The multi-tracking of Tim's bowed string contributions (fiddle, viola) is managed with a quality that recalls Robin Williamson (Merry Band or Myrrh), and Nick's singing has that puckish, perky and alert drive that combines the delicious quirkiness of the ISB with the vitality of the Levs. The songs really do cut through time, as they run the gamut from the opening rallying-cry reel of Song Of A Leveller to the dark drunkard's tale North And South to the wonderfully sombre Eyes Of Fate aura of Snapshot and the deeply meditative Song Of A Quaker's Wife to the vibrant mysticism of Travelling To Cockaigne to the tender and thought-provoking Postcard to the bitter mouth-music chant of Stór Mo Chroí to Song Of A Father, where the affirmative quality of the life-force is conveyed with an even-handed, consistent quasi-classical poise; then there's the fine trilogy that concludes the album, wherein the perspectives of contemporary political experience are brought to bear on all that has gone before. Sure, no-one wins (again) - as if you didn't know it; but hey, it's the listener who wins, in being immeasurably enriched by the insight and (eventually) wisdom that these enlightened perspectives bring. Yes, Claws And Wings is a very impressive record indeed, uniformly strong and well-balanced both musically and lyrically, and it's easily going to turn out to be one of my albums of the year, I'm convinced.
David Kidman
The shortened history of this excellent Irish folk/rock album is that songwriter, guitarist and vocalist Nick Burbridge and multi-instrumentalist Tim O'Leary of McDs 2 Hours got together with the rhythm section of the Levellers, Charlie Heather, percussion and Jeremy Cunningham, bass, and recorded World Turned Upside Down in Brighton last year.
Their collaboration has produced an album of eight melodious and original songs which feel like Celtic standards (and will probably end up being so). There's a strong political edge to the intelligent and thought-provoking lyrics: the struggle for freedom; battles fought and friends lost; friendship celebrated. But it's not just one which will only go down well with expatriates at Guinness parties; 'celebratory' describes the album itself. The musicianship is accomplished, the music hook-laden. Burbridge's acoustic guitar and O'Leary's fiddle, bouzouki, whistles and harmonica are sensitively played and arranged. The album rocks along with a fine foot-tapping and joyful swagger, underpinned by the impressive Levellers' rhythm section.
The name McDermott's Two Hours was "taken from a hippy called Tommy McDermott who, when left in charge of Radio Free Derry, replaced the usual playlist of rebel songs with the Incredible String Band and exhorted the people to 'be cool and calm and love one another'." We'll drink to that!
Sue Cavendish
It's nearly eight years since Catriona recorded her second solo CD Bold, and while in the interim there's been no shortage of bright young Shetland folk musicians making names for themselves this scintillating fiddle player has always been in a class of her own somewhat, and here definitely remains so. For album number three, Catriona has again surrounded herself with three of the most in-demand musicians on the Scottish music scene - Unusual Suspects' David Milligan (piano) and Shooglenifty's Conrad Ivitsky (double bass) and James Mackintosh (percussion) – who together lend this album too a strong jazz perspective that both complements and moulds Catriona's own playing to give the whole project a very distinctive signature. A good example of this is track 4 (Him On Piano), which takes Catriona's own hymn-like piece (which was composed specially for David) and ingeniously metamorphoses into a Swedish polska, finishing up on a brilliant original tune by Carina Normansson. The special rapport between Catriona and David in particular is striking, but the whole album has a real feel of the musicians having fun and appreciating and enjoying each other's company and sensibility, sparking off each other most inventively with as much the spirit of an empathic jazz trio as that of a folk or classical ensemble. Just over half of the eleven tracks either contain or consist exclusively of Catriona's own compositions, either heavily inspired by traditional tune-forms or more freely constructed. The official final track pairs a solo rendition of Da West Side Brides March with a Muckle reel which intriguingly sounds much like a Norwegian halling, given an almost heavy-metal-style finish (I can't find a more apt description). After which, there's a few minutes of silence before the bonus track, on which Catriona delivers Sir Olaf, a Trowie ballad fetchingly sung to a Norse melody (her only vocal performance on the entire disc). This may provide a deliberate contrast to all that's gone before, but like the rest of this genuinely exhilarating CD it interprets and presents the ever-changing tradition in the light of world influences as it sparkles with both a youthful freshness of approach and an attractive maturity of outlook. You too may well be as much over the moon listening to the disc as Catriona and her chums obviously were in making the record.
David Kidman March 2008
Greentrax get seriously funky with this latest offering from young Highland piper/whistle player Finlay, who, with his crack band, lay down what I'd wager is probably the tightest groove on the scene at the moment. His previous outing, Pressed For Time (on the Footstompin' label), was a really assured disc that demonstrated not only Finlay's formidable playing technique but also his respect for the tradition, while creating exciting settings for the tunes themselves. ReEcho, which follows a period of intensive touring, also sees a small change in his band personnel, whereby John Speirs has replaced Quee Macarthur on bass, but if anything the band is tighter than ever. This is apparent right away when the disc kicks off with the seven-minute funk extravaganza Back To Bergamo (melding together three of Finlay's own compositions), mean and dirty with edge-of-the seat rhythms and constant interest in all departments - the point when Finlay switches to the pipes (after starting out on flute) is one of those defining moments that stuns each time you play through. What sets this disc apart from the crowd of jazzed-up, funked-up pretenders is the sheer excitement, the exhilaration, the amazing dexterity with which Finlay and his band encompass metres that surprise even in the context of the tunes' origins. Their approach is innovative, the groove fiercely contemporary, yet not a programmed beat in earshot - and the result is all the more exciting for it. That opening set is hard to beat, but in their own way the stirring, majestic pace of the Time To Dance set and the heavier tread of Abdoul's carry their own weight and the statelier Bulgarian tune midway through the disc provides a key staging-post. Martyn Bennett's Ud The Duduk forms the basis for a robust workout where Fergus Mackenzie's hyperactive drumming and brother Kevin's electric guitar licks entice with their counter-rhythms. Fiddler Chris Stout again more than proves his worth, every bit as much on the lyrical viola melody of Miss Elliott's as on the spinning, whirling-ever-faster sections where he seems to be duelling with Finlay's pipes. The closing medley of a Breton tune and Finlay's piece The Sunday Club makes for a fittingly sparky finale. No disappointment here then, from any quarter.
David Kidman January 2008
Scott MacDonald - New Heart (Catacol Records)
Scott MacDonald is a singer-songwriter from a village on the outskirts of Glasgow. He is a fine musician and songwriter, with one foot in the tradition and the other pointing West. His music has best been described as where Celtic meets country. It's honest solo acoustic guitar fare with simple harmonica accompaniment (track 10 being the exception with fiddle, guitar, percussion and backing vocal additions). His voice is warmly melodic and confidential, with just enough polish and that touch of desolation which makes lyrics compulsive listening. The album is a pleasure to listen to. Live he performs his songs with strength, style and intensity; Scott is no limp-wristed strummer!
New Heart will be released shortly but is available now at his gigs. Also available is a 3-track single 'Burn Baby Burn', songs written about his time in Australia where he played Perth & Melbourne and was known as the Celtic Neil Young!
Sue Cavendish
Shelagh's was never a household name, even within the hallowed realms of the folk enthusiast, but she so richly deserved the status and her damnably short career is the stuff of legend. Arguably even more so since she did a complete vanishing act in 1972 after releasing just two LPs which showed her to be a performer of considerable talent and promise. And she's not been heard of since then - no, not at all. So to all intents and purposes, Let No Man Steal Your Thyme is all you're ever going to get in terms of recordings; it's the absolutely complete collection. On two CDs it brings us the entire contents of both of Shelagh's LPs, originally released on B&C (1970's The Shelagh McDonald Album and 1971's Stargazer), along with all retrievable alternate takes, outtakes and demos and the tracks which appeared on the Club Folk records. If you already own the Mooncrest CD editions of the two albums (which came out around five or six years back), which included most of the extra material mentioned, you're still likely to want this new collection, for it opens with the brace of (admittedly less than characteristic) acoustic country-blues-style tracks recorded live and originally available only on the obscure 1969 BBC compilation Dungeon Folk. And it has a finely detailed new booklet note by David Wells, which not only provides full credits for the recordings (unlike the Mooncrest reissues), but also states the case for Shelagh's artistry most persuasively. Not that it could pass you by when you play the CDs, for Shelagh had a superb singing voice by any standards, notwithstanding the strength and individuality of her songwriting. Her singing matched the purity of a Judy Collins with the dexterity and range of Joni Mitchell (the melodic contours of whose songs, not to mention the actual writing, Shelagh's resembled at times too), but it's Sandy Denny to whom Shelagh was most often considered the heir in the solo female artist stakes (Sandy herself having at that point forsaken a solo career for a group setting). Shelagh seemed to have everything (striking good looks too!), although the critical approval which her music garnered wasn't matched by LP sales. Then there was the vigour of the supporting playing - producer Sandy Roberton had gathered round Shelagh a real who's-who of fine guest musos for each session. Album featured Andy Roberts, Gerry Conway, Pat Donaldson, Gordon Huntley, Ian Whiteman and Keith Tippett, as well as fellow singer-songwriter Keith Christmas (with whom Shelagh had been briefly involved while living in Bristol in 1969). Aside from bringing on board Messrs Christmas and Whiteman again, Stargazer featured an even more diverse array of talents, from Richard Thompson, Dave Mattacks and Danny Thompson to Mac & Katie Kissoon! Some of the musical arrangements employed were pretty ambitious, and were masterminded by Robert Kirby (who'd done string settings for Nick Drake), and thus don't fall into the despised 70s over-production trap. As well as Shelagh's own songs (which provide the main focus only on Stargazer, whereas roughly a third of Album was covers, albeit superior ones, of material by Christmas, Roberts and Gerry Rafferty). As well as this collection's title track, the traditional song repertoire is represented by a stunning, brooding version of the traditional Dowie Dens Of Yarrow which would have put many a contemporaneous folk-rock treatment well and truly in the shade. Though her albums sounded very much in the mould of upcoming folk-rock-pop singer-songwriter offerings of the time, none of the tracks Shelagh recorded seem really to have dated (at least to my ears). If you've not caught up with Shelagh's work before now, then hasten along and get this set. Join with me in regretting Shelagh's disappearance, sure, but rejoice with me that her complete recorded legacy is here for our permanent enjoyment.
David Kidman
Kate McDonnell - Where The Mangoes Are (Appleseed)
Connecticut-born, New-York-State-based singer-songwriter Kate joins the illustrious roster of Appleseed for this, her fourth album. Coming a full two years on from her well-received and decidedly strong third offering Don't Get Me Started, Where The Mangoes Are is another strong record, marking a further significant advance in Kate's music. Tom Paxton has cited Kate's music for its combination of grace, intelligence and warmth – a beguiling one indeed, and one with which I'd be loth to disagree; I sure can't, so I won't! Once again, the majority of the songs on the album are Kate's own compositions, either solo or in collaboration with Anne Lindley. These include two songs with at first glance rather familiar titles, Go Down Moses and Hey Joe, the former a direct portrayal of the highs of love and the latter a rather more enigmatic expression of the conundrum of life and death that capitalises on the rhythm and momentum of the more familiar song of that title. Chronologically, the songs here were mostly written over the period 2000 through 2003 (standouts Mercy and Soft-hearted Girl were both songwriting contest winners last year), the one exception being 5:05, written as long ago as 1991 but betraying not a trace of immaturity. The one and only cover this time round is of Steve Earle's Goodbye Song, given an attractive and deeply felt rendition, with nice fiddle playing from Mindy Jostyn in tow; there's also a "cheerful-and-efficient" interlude midway through the CD in the form of a Freight-Train-style reworking of the traditional Railroad Bill. As before, Kate relies on a small coterie of backing musicians, among whom the multi-talented Scott Petito figures large but without dominating Kate's own delectable musical personality (but what on earth's a "garden weasel" then, Scott?!); there's also some notable electric guitar fills from Marc Shulman on many of the cuts. Also as before, Kate's own guitar playing is crisp and clear-toned yet unobtrusive (less unobtrusive than you might think when you learn that she plays left-handed yet with guitar strung upside-down – so figure that, fingerpickers!)… Her singing is again characterised by that rarer-than-you'd-think combination of rhythmic individuality in phrasing and strength in flexibility (her playful vocalising on the strange, seductive Lemon Marmalade, which includes the CD's title phrase, is specially mesmerising). So what this all adds up to is another memorable album from Kate, which with the added benefit of Appleseed's wide distribution should ensure Kate gains plenty more admirers.
David Kidman
This third album from Connecticut-born singer-songwriter Kate is very probably her best yet (if not quite the most consistent) - and both Broken Bones and Next (both on Waterbug) were hard acts to follow. These two albums were separated by a gap of four years, but Don't Get Me Started appeared last year, after a shorter gap of only just over two years. This shorter interval is reflected in the urgency of the writing, and an even greater self-confidence that kicks away every last trace of that occasional diffidence I'd noted on Broken Bones. Aside from joyous Carter-Family-style takes on Banks Of The Ohio and Little Darlin' Pal Of Mine (the bonus track) - where Kate's joined by what seems like the whole McDonnell clan - and a deft, swift and wonderfully-judged cover of John Pennell's Will You Be Leaving?, everything here is self-penned and (mostly) acutely personal, but you don't feel excluded at all (as can so easily happen with confessional singer-songwriters). Songs like the title track (an unsurpassable slice of bitterness co-written by the curiously-named Anne Killheffer!), Gone, Take Me Home and What Will You Do? (shades of Joan Baez on the latter perhaps, tho' no bad thing!) are classics of their kind, and set my machine's replay button on overtime. Kate's vocal delivery is immensely assured and distinguished by its very passion, and since it doesn't readily invoke any direct comparisons with other singers it proves pretty damn impressive in its own right. Kate's guitar work is unusually skilled and powerful (she's been described as "upside-down-and-backwards guitarist" - just hear her!), emphasising the poetic rhythms of her lyrics in a strikingly individual way. Instrumental support is carefully managed courtesy of producer Scott Petito, who also plays bass, electric guitar, mandolin and percussion; Jerry Marotta plays drums, while there are also notable fiddle contributions from Gina Forsyth on a handful of cuts, and Ben Murray blows a bluesy harmonica on Sticky Buns, one of the oldest songs on the album and the most throwaway in nature. But importantly, the focus is firmly on Kate and her guitar throughout, which is exactly at it should be. Very much worth seeking out.
under construction - try http://www.waterbug.com/mcdonnell.htmlDavid Kidman
Although born in Sweden, Sarah's lately become a rising star on the Canadian folk scene, especially since the release of her debut CD Across The Atlantic two years ago, while an appearance on the Bob Harris radio programme paved the way for a brief UK tour in early October of this year.
For her followup record, Sarah seems to have taken the decision to smooth out the stylistic quirks and inconsistencies that to some extent dogged her debut, although in steering this altered path in terms of idiom and scoring she also appears to have embraced concessions to folk-pop along the way, especially on the first two or three tracks. There's a slightly chirpy timbre to Sarah's voice on occasion, which may slightly irritate, but when this is kept in check and her expressive powers given fuller rein on a more hushed delivery, she can be very persuasive indeed; especially so when matched with the backing vocals of Po' Girl's Awna Teixeira (who appears on three of the album's tracks).
The disc presents nine new self-penned songs, of which the most memorable and satisfying tend to be those where the backings don't unduly distract and Sarah's voice is left alone with only her own instrument (an electric guitar on Mmm, or with the intimate company of just Bob Hamilton's keening pedal steel on Permafrost for instance). Having said that, Cold Night really hits home with its contradictory mix of emotions and quietly judged instrumental palette, while the soft-rollin', more uptempo Song #43 is also quite delicious, with its mix of pedal steel and twang guitars measuring deft brushstrokes in counterpoint.
I've not listed all the fine musicians helping Sarah out on this record, but if I mention that they include Tim Tweedale (who'd also played on Across The Atlantic), Shawn Killaly, Patrick Metzger and Matt Rogers among the regular crew you'll get a decent idea of the standard of supportive playing. The tenth track, Unwork, is no song but a mere snippet; we learn from Sarah's liner notes it's just a snatch of an eight-minute piece for string quartet that she wrote a few years ago (hell, to include the whole of it would've been a better move, since the entire album as it stands only plays for 37 minutes - and the work deserves to be heard and taken seriously). Far too good to be blown away - yes, that gentle yet anthemic finale's still ringin' in my mind!
David Kidman November 2011
Sarah is a Swedish-born but Canada-based songwriter who's been described as an up-and-coming alt. country/indie folksinger – which doesn't give a massive clue to what to expect from this, her official debut release – even following as it does on the heels of a number of successful tours of Canada, the UK and Scandinavia over the past two years. But Across The Atlantic enters centre-stage pretty inauspiciously, as a bewildering Jekyll-and-Hyde creation that hops trains pretty randomly, vacillating between quirkily carefree charge-ahead uptempo numbers and more intimate, elegantly personal essays that are taken at a more restrained pace.
The opening salvo, Ballad Of Sherri, is initially quite disconcerting (nay, most may find it offputting), with its first minute or so sounding like Sarah, her disembodied voice and what sounds like a primitive Chinese guitar (oh, and her band too) were all cooped up in a box – of course this is a deliberate effect, but despite the ear-grabbing timbre of Sarah's voice it's still a touch infuriating to have to wait till the engineer feels like turning the switch on in the next room and we get to hear the full power of the song in proper studio sound quality. Even then, its decidedly peculiar scoring and full-pelt drive gives it a kind of Weimar-cabaret demeanour that doesn't feel entirely apt, well at least till second time around. And Sarah seems also to be employing wilful exaggeration in elements of her singing here, which may jar on repetition.
Any initial misgivings I have with that first track, though, are blown straight away on hearing the next song, Rambling, a heart-melting lonesome slowie with the richly keening melodic warmth of a classic McGarrigle composition, which Sarah delivers with the expressive depth of Eliza Gilkyson (with just a touch of Joan Baez maybe), helped along the course by a killer of a cushioned arrangement involving whining pedal steel and Fender Rhodes – well, you just don't want her to be alone! But then its reverie is disturbed by a psycho-country-rock vibe, with Cry Wolf and its over-cooked weirdly howling backing vocal effects that distract from some classy playing.
The title track then tries valiantly to evoke a cold Nordic town (might it displace Emily Barker as a potential Wallander theme song, I wonder?), and appeals with its increasingly expansive air of gentle nostalgia and reflection. I've Got Your Back is another nicely intimate piece, then the cryptic Hundred Dollar Bills treads a delicately-balanced high-wire between whip-cracking cabaret and bittersweet reflection. The latter quality is also a feature of I've Got Sorrow, which forms a kind of bookend for Rambling (although it carries with it a trace of self-pity), and carries through into the laconic Crow's Lament and the album's swansong, the haunting trumpet-bedecked Goodbye Julie. As the album progresses, you somehow get used to its unpredictability, carried along by Sarah's riveting vocal work.
Sarah's apparent breezy over-confidence in her own production skills has led her to bring in the proverbial kitchen sink at times – for as well as Tim Tweedale's signature dobro and pedal steel (and trumpet) she calls on other folks for violin, clarinet, keys, cello, bass, drums and euphonium, and there are still moments when it all sounds a trifle messy and either unfocused or distortedly focused. But then there are moments of supreme clarity too, which only goes to confuse matters. Perhaps the most curious thing is that I ended up liking the album a lot, and more on each playthrough. But hang on – surely that means it's starting to do what Sarah herself intended: to write an album that sticks in your head and grabs a hold of your heart.
www.myspace.com/sarahmacdougall
David Kidman January 2010
Kicking her heels between tour dates, McEvoy took herself off to a secluded converted barn studio in Norfolk where, with only the engineer for company, she recorded a stripped down (one instrument per track) selection of songs from her back catalogue, the raw setting throwing into relief the sheer quality of her voice and her proud Dublin accent.
She says she wasn't in the brightest state of mind which may account for why most of the material she chose was on the sombre or confessional side, though I'd not read too much into album title or the fact the only new number, What's Her Name, featuring her on sparse double bass and sounding like a nascent Presleyish rock n roll number, addresses a cheating partner seeing an old flame.
Thus she opens with the failed relationship self-flagellating of Did I Hurt You? from Yola, the same album providing Days Roll By's 'is this all there is?' worries about getting older while Snapshots yields a jagged scarred heart version of Did You Tell Him? and, accompanying herself on piano, Sophie's bitterly sad tale of anorexia.
It's not all tears and open wounds, though. From Early Hours comes the 'lean on me' themed I'll Be Willing and two (though I confess any differences between them are too subtle for my ears) torch song versions of the self-deprecating but movingly open-hearted love song You'll Hear Better Songs (Than This).
And from last year's marvellously titled I'd Rather Go Blonde there's the tinkling piano backed 'take me in your arms' plea of Harbour with its muted anthem chorus, the Dave Rotheray co-penned 'they don't see you like I do' (with love if Ireland sub-text) Just For The Tourists and the playful fingerclicking jazzy For The Avoidance which wittily sets out a woman's annoyance at not hearing from the guy she gave her number to in terms of a solicitor's letter.
She ended that album with a cover (Sam Cooke's Good Times) and she does the same here with a punchy, scratchy electric guitar backed version of PF Sloan's still relevant 60s protest classic Eve Of Destruction. There is, of course, one song I've neglected to mention. Only A Woman's Heart kick-started her entire career, appearing first on the compilation of the (almost) same name, duetted with Mary Black, and then on her debut album. It's rightfully here again, and, with just a simple guitar backing and McEvoy's Irish twang more pronounced, it cuts to the vulnerable core of its emotion and is by far the best version she's recorded. But the whole album is a singular sensation.
Mike Davies September 2011
As such, it's a bit of rollercoaster in terms of tone, sliding from the loose limbed jazzy double bass, vibes and brushed percussion shuffle of Non Smoking Single Female and the vaudeville ragtime Old New Borrowed And Blue via the 40s meets Van Morrison gospel I'll Be Willing and the Celtic bluegrass suffer So Well to the Tom's Diner aping Isn't It A Little Late?, a slow lollop through Rodney Crowell's Shame On The Moon and a stripped down acoustic folk cover of Marvin Gaye's Mercy Mercy Me.
A useful thumbnails introduction, but you'd really be much better off seeking out the source albums, while fans who've already got the set will be happy to know that the only new track, the exuberant, percussion perky Oh Uganda, is also being released as a single.
www.eleanormcevoy.com
www.myspace.com/emcevoymusic
Mike Davies October 2009
A bit of a change of pace from her last few albums, this doesn't ditch the folk, jazz, blues cocktail but it is far meatier (replete with much fat brass) than the stripped back moods of Out There and very much wears its late 50s/early 60s heart on its (album) sleeve. It also reverses the balance of past releases by favouring covers over the self-penned and collaborative material.
Apparently initially planned as a covers collection linked around a theme of turning 40 (a wry twist being that most of them are normally sung by men), it grew into a reflection on the hopes and disappointments of love as well as growing old. It's the latter that strikes the opening note with a bossa nova treatment of the Stones' Mother's Little Helper complete with jazz piano, itchy percussion and early hours sax. Sung in her distinctive accent, it's not only a fabulous reinterpretation but it's the first time I've actually made out all the words.
The passing of the years is there on the next cover, a fine honky tonk piano roll through Terry Allen's bluegrassed tale of a Lubbock Woman hitting 40, lonely, not so good looking but raunchy and with a good heart.
Ringing the musical changes, If You Want Me To Stay is a simply arranged voice and percussion gospel blues reading of the Sly and the Family Stone nugget while Hands Off Him brings a sassy good time New Orleans brass and organ roll through Priscilla Bowman's 1955 big band swinger.
Turning on the country taps, a slowly lollopping Shame On The Moon, Rodney Crowell's wistful musing on the mysteries of a woman's heart, lifts a throaty slide guitar solo right out of the 50s before she slips over the border for a mariachi samba through Butch Hancock's timeless (S)He Never Spoke Spanish To Me before wrapping up with a breathily delivered, loose limbed, skirt swirling prowl around Nick Lowe's I Knew The Bride (When She Used To Rock 'n'Roll).
So much for the interpretations then (though perhaps technically speaking, a new howl at the moon version of the celebratory Easy In Love from Yola has her covering herself), what about the original material?
First up is track two, a co-write with Johnny Rivers on the jazzy soul swing blues title track with its Hammond backing, sax and snare percussion, delivered with a warm relaxed groove that sounds like it'll be a scorcher live.
Roll Out Better Days, the only self-penned number is another uptempo organ and brass r&b swing tune that you could imagine Van Morrison recording in one of his less grumpy moods. Which leaves a brace of collaborations with former Beautiful South guitarist Dave Rotheray. They shared two co-writes on his recent Homespun album, Short Stories From East Yorkshire, and do the same here. Old New Borrowed And Blue jauntily streams goodtime vaudeville ragtime jazz with clarinet leading the dance steps down the aisle, and the marvellously titled drunken slow waltz The Night May Still Be Young, But I Am Not sees The Pogues meet Piaf down some faded seaside music hall or cabaret dive where an old pianola player tickles the ivories while grey-haired romantics dance away the memories. If the album's this good, the live shows are going to be truly something to savour.
www.eleanormcevoy.com
www.myspace.com/eleanormcevoy
Mike Davies May 2008
Back with an album even more stripped down that Early Hours, and on which she's taken charge of the arrangements and plays pretty much everything you hear, this finds the South Wexford singer-songwriter variously mediating on ecology, economics and, in songs about relationships ended, lacking and desired, female strengths and vulnerabilities.
Opening in k.d.lang mood, the smokey lounge ambience, brushed percussion and vibes of Non Smoking Single Female offers a witty plea for romance written in small ads style but with a sub-text about consumerism.
In more serious moods, she moves on embrace the bitter hurt of To Sweep Away A Fool, masculine commitment phobia on Quote I Love You Unquote (co-penned with Dave Rothery of The Beautiful South), the wounded heart sarcasm of the mandolin and fiddled based Suffer So Well, the marimba tinged So Much Trouble's tale of a woman discovering her husband's infidelity and, by way of a mirror image, temptation resisted in the Gaelic infused folk of Wrong So Wrong.
At least Little Luck looks on the brighter side of holding fast to a relationship in the face of everything.
Elsewhere, Vigeland's Dream uses the Norwegian sculptor as a springboard for a meditation on the connections and emotions art can unlock within us while, embracing wider malaise Fields of Dublin 4 addresses the loss of the city's soul that's accompanied its tiger economy and eco concerns come to the fore on a haunting version of Marvin Gaye's Mercy Mercy Me, slowed down and sung with just acoustic guitar backing.
It's one of two covers on the album, the second being her equally bare boned reinterpretation of Little Feat's Roll Um Easy.
It doesn't always work, the use of programmed drums and synths at odds with the more organic nature elsewhere, but, again drawing on a musical cocktail of jazz, folk and blues, and never compromising her accent in the phrasing, for the most it's another quiet triumph for one of Ireland's most golden yet far too unappreciated talents.
Mike Davies, October 2006
Eleanor McEvoy - Eleanor McEvoy Special Edition (Market Square)
A year later and a new version appeared on McEvoy's self-titled debut album on Geffen. While not perfect, it's an auspicious debut, combining Celtic roots with rock and even a classical colouring. Not bad going though for a one-time 'anonymous fiddler' on albums by the likes of Sinead O'Connor and Foreigner. An early self-taught guitarist, McEvoy's background is essentially classical, though she admits that as a child she hated violin.
"I'd have done anything to give it up. My parents said I could when I was twelve. So on my twelfth birthday I marched in and said 'can I give it up now?' And of course they said no. I remember the injustice of that. One day I just flung it across the room in frustration. It was only when I got older and started playing in youth orchestras (the National Youth Orchestra actually) and listening to the orchestral repertoire that I started to love it!"
A one time hippie, then punk, and always something of a female Nigel Kennedy in her unconventional attitude, McEvoy soon started moonlighting, playing violin with assorted rock bands. But although she'd been busy writing, she didn't have the confidence to get up and sing her own songs in public. Until that is NSO percussionist (and her present drummer) Noel Eccles heard her at a party.
"He talked me into it by saying he'd play with me, which, since he was well known, was a big deal. So I began doing solo gigs. It was difficult to leave the Orchestra because of the salary and security. But while I loved the music, I had no desire to be a concert violinist star, having to practice five hours a day just to stop yourself going backwards. I was never attracted to that lifestyle."
Before finally quitting the classical connections, McEvoy was juggling orchestral appearances, session work, playing violin and keyboards in Mary Black's touring band, as well as her solo 'rock' gigs. It was at one of these solo gigs that A Woman's Heart came to fruition.
"It's a very simple song that I'd written when I was depressed. I didn't think twice about it and I didn't sing it for ages. I did it at this gig that Mary and her husband came to see. He'd got this idea for an album of Irish female performers and when he heard the song he said that would be the title track!"
The rest is history, the success of the track and the album prompting first a tour by the women and then securing a solo deal for McEvoy.
She's been writing from an early age ("my first was when I was eight and it was in Gaelic, then at 10 I wrote something called I'm Being Bugged By My parents"), knocking out string quartets when she was a teenager. She wrote her first serious song however when she was 18. Titled For You, it's included on the album more for sentimental reasons than anything since she declares the lyrics to be so hilariously naive she swore she'd never write anything like it again.
Embracing cello, oboe and a classical violin on one hand and the Celtic melody of Stray Thoughts on the other, it's a rootsy album with rock feel, and perhaps inevitably has prompted comparisons to Suzanne Vega.
But despite the bittersweet nature of the songs, McEvoy insists it's not presenting a portrait of vulnerable womanhood.
"Leave Her Now is about a woman's strength, about coping and getting by, about the strength she has to see her through. A Woman's Heart may be about depression but there's also a strength there. It's 'God, I'm depressed, but I'll survive and manage on my own.' I don't think even Go Now, which is the starkest and most difficult to sing because it's saying' go because I'll cry if you stay', is vulnerable, because it's the woman that's making the decision. You get the feeling more when you hear these songs live. It's not Irish serenity or melancholy. They're a lot rockier!"
Mike Davies
Glaswegian schoolteacher turned singer-songwriter, McEwan's been compared to David Gray and Damien Rice neither of which really sit t comfortably but do serve to locate him in the area of forlorn love songs for those who need convenient pigeonholing.
That said the stirring opening Make A Wave would seem to owe much more to the rousing Celtic rock of Runrig were they fronted by John Mellencamp or Bryan Adams. That same midwest guitar slinging cruising down the highway feel resurfaces on Take The Road and More To Me while slower moments such as the title track, Run Away, piano ballad Crazy and the Memphis infused country soulfulness of Hopeless Heart call to mind Marc Cohn and Billy Joel, suggesting he may initially find it easier to crack America than here.
But, if sheer talent will out then, armed with a warm, dust burred voice and an apparently effortless ability to pen one great song after another (Even Angels Fall and The River Runs Deep alone should have every country singer in Nashville queuing at his door), the world is clearly McEwan's stadium.
Mike Davies
Duncan's one of the most consistent, consistently hardworking – and genuinely talented – performers on the scene, and he and his merry band (in electric or acoustic mode) should IMHO have been right up there in the Folk Awards nominations for Best Live Band by now. Duncan's enjoyed a number of minor lineup permutations over the past years, but this is the (official) Acoustic Band's first full-blown studio CD, and it oozes dedication, graft and keen musicianship, qualities that have wrought hard-won excellence and solid, confident accomplishment.
It's a thoughtfully-assembled collection that intersperses lively but perceptive and often interestingly subtle arrangements of traditional songs with a generous handful of Duncan's own compositions bearing many of his proven trademarks. Out On Ye is a gutsy retelling of a North York Moors legend, while Circle (Round) For Danny is a tender tribute-cum-reminiscence of Duncan's maternal grandfather. There are two items specifically dedicated to his daughter Kiera: the reassuring Hurry On Home and the delicate song-without-words I Held Your Hand. (There's one minor mystery here too: the latest version of Turn The Bones Around, while providing this new disc with its title, has inexplicably been missed off the tracklist on the back cover even though it's definitely present on the actual disc, as track 2.) The trad-arr items include robust and imaginative takes on Three Gypsies, Cold Haily Windy Night and British Man Of War and Rakish Young Fellow – these all very familiar from live electric-band gigs of course, but by and large standing up well to the more restrained palette available to an all-acoustic lineup.
And one interesting development I've noted of late, which manifests itself quite strongly on this new CD, is a more pronounced (literally so, in the sense of more consciously-enunciated) Scottish burr to Duncan's singing – mostly, it must be said, on the songs with a specific Scottish connection or bent. But none of this observation negates the dynamism or supreme confidence with which Duncan carries himself through the programme. Indeed, such is Duncan's own distinctive musical personality as a charismatic singer and guitarist that it might be temptingly easy to underestimate the excellence of the other musicians' contributions: Anne Brivonese (fiddle), Steve Fairholme (melodeon) and Gerry McNeice (double bass) are all musicians who are much more than a hefty notch above mere jobbers, and there's a truly supportive simpatico that flows between them and Duncan – and each other. But I was particularly struck too, anew the noo, by the marvellous inventiveness of Anne's fiddling on this occasion.
All in all, Marked Out In Pegs is a strategic triumph that brings the D.McF.Ac.Band in all their glory and with oodles of presence right into your living-room (or car) – and it's a great disc for playing (and singing along to!) if you want to feel good about the healthy state of grass-roots folk.
David Kidman February 2011
Cripes! I could just cop out and say "another stonking set from Dunc and his merry chums" - But I'm biased of course, for I'm one of the legion of folks who've been avidly following the ongoing strength-to-strength development of the DMcF (Electric) Band as a vital, must-see performing-unit and the progression of their repertoire as honed through the band's commitment to seemingly innumerable live performances – for which reason, if no other, All Rogues And Villains is one of those records for which the phrase "long-awaited" must surely have been coined.
The band's previous studio offering, 2004's Woodshed Boys, was great, but whilst it contained some really good performances and material and fair stormed along in the process it didn't always quite recapture the band's essential onstage presence; so this time round Duncan and his band have, by initially recording this new album live in the studio, brought back the frisson of the "feel of the gig". But this new CD really does benefit from the "best of both worlds" in that full advantage has also been taken of the studio environment to sensibly enhance those details or lines (instrumental or vocal) which inevitably get buried in any live performance environment, while also enabling some creative, intelligent - and often quite subtle - experiments with texture; credit to engineer Matt, who has furnished this latest recording with an impressive depth of focus. Individual instrumental lines are well defined, drawing attention all the more easily to instances where the pairing and/or sounding-together of different instruments (eg electric guitar and fiddle, fiddle and melodeon) form a strong and empathic unison melody line. The sound-picture is at the same time widescreen and richly detailed (rather like viewing a distant shore through a decent wide-angle telescope, perhaps), a combination stressing the gutsy unity of the band while helping to highlight the excellence of the individual band members' contributions. Duncan's nominally the band's figurehead, leading with an iron sporran (!), but he's quick to give his fellow band-members plenty of chances to shine: for instance, fiddle player Anne Brivonese takes the lead vocal role superbly on Lowlands Of Holland, and melodeonist Steve Fairholme proves he's so much more than a mere jobbing squeezer by leading off the Cuckoo's Nest tune-set and fair managing to upstage the rest of the band in the process! Other constant delights include Geoff Taylor's incandescent electric guitar, either resplendent in full-prog mode or satisfyingly twangy; the majestic sweep of Anne's sweet-but-strong fiddle lines; Tony Rogerson's splendidly versatile bass work (alternately niftily melodic and chunky, solid-state); Duncan's own firm-but-gloriously-hyperactive acoustic-guitar bedrock; and Nick Pepper's sparky drumming (not a hint of ploddery, and on the jauntier numbers a sprightly cross between ceilidh-band and driving rock-band). Oh, and the ever-more-confidently-managed backing-vocal teamwork. And Dunc's own singing too has taken a leap forward in stature even since Woodshed Boys, now altogether tougher, grittier and having gained in expressive power (note too his well authentic Scots delivery for Band O' Shearers!). Another development is Dunc's increasing tendency to allow the last line of (say) a stanza or verse to lag behind the beat and over beyond the end bar-line; this can be disconcerting on first acquaintance, but you soon get used to it - and in any case, by avoiding an obvious, regimented and too-perfect delivery, this is good 'cos it enhances the off-the-cuff, as-live feel of the performances.
As for the material performed on this well-stocked disc (70-minute, and not one too long - no filler, all killer!), it's made up of four Dunc-penned ditties (one's a revisit of his earliest "hit", Bed Of Straw), two rollicking instrumental sets and the remainder trad-arr and trad-added-to (imaginatively so, as opposed to bog-standard rocked-up!) songs. The import of the lyrics of Dunc's own Spadge and Rawfold's Mill (sometimes lost in live performance) benefits from the greater clarity of diction that a studio recording affords. And other particular successes? A supremely thoughtful take on Lord Franklin, which ingeniously yet naturally builds in the chorus of Stan Rogers' North West Passage; a mighty rendition of Rakish Young Fellow; and a fair share of neck-prickling moments, like the "orchestrated" interpolation midway through Botany Bay (I don't know quite what's goin' on there, but it sure sounds tremendous!) and the deeply joyous "Anna Goes To Atholl" tune medley that prompts an immediate repeat play just like Dirty Linen or Flatback Caper did the first time you played through Fairport's Full House (remember?)! There are lots of really neat extra touches too (like the mandolin on Cuckoo's Nest), while additionally those all-important little ad-hoc "heys", "yeps" and "yeuches" have been left in the mix, and the "pub gig" feel of the insidiously catchy singalong finale Robin Hood's Bay also extends into the disc's runout groove with a slice of après-gig rolldown-frivolity (recorded on location at "Letsbe Avenue" at closing-time!).
All Rogues And Villains shares with the best folk-rock that fine balance of being at once rewarding to listen to, good to bop around to and fun to play (this comes straight from Duncan's liner-note: "Making music is our hobby and our passion. Long may we love what we do"). Absolutely! - for Duncan and his band sure keep the feelgood factor going in their robust, dynamic and enthusiastic embodiment of "The Living Tradition" (living = vital, alive and relevant). It's a real-live smiley smile from the he-rogues and villains! This is definitely Duncan's best CD yet, and one of which he's every right to be fiercely proud - and so too should every member of his doughty band, without whom Duncan's vision could never be realised. For this is more than a vision: you could say it's the future of folk-rock as informed equally by the past and the present.
David Kidman October 2007
On her latest (and seventh) CD, the ever-popular Irish-Canadian songstress presents a varied collection of songs that effortlessly showcases all the qualities that together characterise her own special musical character: literate and poetic writing with a strong melodic sense, allied to a beautiful singing voice and an authentic connection with the traditions of Celtic music.
As ever, in order to realise her personal vision, Eileen has the benefit of a small handful of fully supportive musical accompanists, headed by the multi-talented David K playing assorted stringed instruments (and damnably well too!). One key aspect of Eileen's music-making that always greatly impresses is her versatility within the broad church of folk song. Here, ten of the disc's thirteen tracks are Eileen's own compositions; her songwriting ranges from the uplifting (Rushing River and the closing lullaby-mantra All Shall Be Well) to the gently introspective (Ferry Me Home and the title track), via a catchy gospel-style chorus song (When I Go) and a brace of sensitive songs of political conscience (The Evening News and How Many Wars?), with the occasional glimpse into the world of contemporary Celtic legend (the playfully ominous Song Of The Ferrishyn, which is based on a Manx lyric source) and a "freshly-fallen" shovelling-up of Eileen's 1994 parody Snow Shanty. The traditional items include a three-part-harmonised acappella version of the Irish love song I Wish My Love and a better-than-decent account of the murder ballad Bonnie Banks Of Fordie. It's as impossible to fault this enchanting disc as it is to find anything lacking in Eileen's armoury; her interpretations are invariably keen and expressive, well focused and committed, qualities that are entirely consistent with her songwriting talent.
David Kidman October 2011
Eileen McGann - Beyond The Storm (Dragonwing)
Eileen's an Irish Canadian singer, songwriter and a skilled interpreter of traditional song, now based out on Vancouver Island, but she visits these shores every couple of years or so, makes a great impression through her live appearances yet inexplicably still has yet to attain much of a "name" profile in this country, despite having aided and abetted Les Barker on numerous recent occasions! Her all-traditional album Heritage was a highlight of 1997, and Beyond The Storm must be considered its true follow-up, though it's been a long time in coming! Eileen here returns to the pattern set by her earlier album Elements, for this time round only four out of the twelve tracks contain either words or music that are traditional, the remainder being Eileen's own compositions (aside from the lovely Waterfall, which comes from the pen of Eileen's good friend Aileen Vance).
Eileen's musical idiom has been accurately described as "Celtic-influenced Canadian folksong"; it's generally mellow and accessible, but not lacking in intensity, for Eileen's a really fine singer with one of those gently soaring voices to die for! Eileen's a committed environmentalist, but she doesn't ram that commitment down your earpiece; instead, her songs are genuinely beautiful creations, replete with comforting, positive philosophy; though they're easy on the ear with attractive melodies, this doesn't mean that they're safe and unchallenging, for her compassion and social conscience inform her performance style and give it considerable power and internal strength. There's no lack of bite in Eileen's writing either - her commentary on global economy, No Country's Law is strong stuff indeed. Her talent for painting pictures and telling stories is enhanced greatly by her choice of supporting musicians - here again, principally "David K" (no relation!) on guitars, bouzouki and bass. The depth and breadth of Eileen's concerns enable a sensible variety in subject-matter too, and she even finds room for a simple love song (Fits Like A Glove), set to an infectious two-step rhythm, from which point the album just gets better and better, the final trio (the haunting, entrancing Water Kelpie's Lullaby, the dramatic ballad Queen Eleanor and the plaintive unaccompanied closer Island Home) providing outstanding and inspiring listening. "Oh what could be more beautiful", indeed…
David Kidman
Tell My Sister is a brand new three-disc set that's part-compilation and part-reissue – and almost entirely treasure-trove. The reissue part is easiest to discuss, so we'll get that out of the way first. Discs 1 and 2 of the set comprise freshly remastered versions of the sisters' first two album releases: their eponymous Warners debut of 1976 and its 1977 followup Dancer With Bruised Knees.
The former is one of those albums that's always been magic, a cornerstone of my collection ever since its original purchase and a constant companion whatever else I may have been listening to at any time since. And it's amazing (tho' it shouldn't be!) how fresh it still sounds close on 35 years since it was recorded! And its power to move me to tears hasn't diminished one iota. It runs the whole gamut of emotions too, from the feelgood cajun of Complainte Pour Ste-Catherine and the good-time rockin' insouciance of Kiss And Say Goodbye through to the exquisite (Talk To Me Of) Mendocino, the drop-dead-gorgeous wistful laments Heart Like A Wheel and My Town and the sparse, air-cutting heartbreaker Go Leave, via the rolling Wade Hemsworth classic Foolish You, the cheeky Loudon Wainwright III Swimming Song and the Bahamian spiritual Travelling On For Jesus. All given a simple, rustic and very immediate production that enabled maximum concentration on the sisters' glorious singing and their matchlessly beautiful harmonies, the like of which seemed almost supernatural at the time and they still possess the power to tingle the spine like nothing else ever recorded. Well nigh perfection!
Dancer would in almost any other circumstances have been regarded a classic album, but, as producer Joe Boyd has observed, "the only problem was the album it had to follow"! It's impossible to fault individual tracks like the lovely Walking Song, the pastoral Southern Boys and the delicate Naufragée Du Tendre, but when you put the whole album alongside its predecessor there isn't quite the same sense of unity and some tracks feel mildly derivative of earlier compositions (elements of the second-album syndrome!). Even so, it's still streets ahead of the majority of records released in that year, and this reissue affords an opportunity to give it another chance in or out of the context of its illustrious company.
So finally to disc 3 of this set, which will for most McGarrigles fans be the justification for buying the whole set without question. It's a collection of 21 demos (all hitherto unreleased), recordings dating from 1971 and 1974. Eight of these are voice-and-piano studio demos by Kate, recorded in a New York studio in 1971; these include a pair of especially edgy and passionate performances, of Mendocino (with an extra final verse that Kate later dropped) and Heart Like A Wheel (this only spoilt by a hiatus before the words "love for you" in verse 1, as if the words had been momentarily forgotten). It's indicative that wherever these songs later appeared on official albums, those later versions are almost always less compelling (albeit perfectly acceptable or better in isolation! – it's just that these early demos are so darned intense and cuttingly immediate); The Work Song – which later surfaced as one of the best tracks of Love Over And Over – is a particular case in point.
One of the 1971 demo songs, Oliver Remember Me?, is a dramatic little curiosity that never cropped up again anywhere, and from its abrupt ending feels like a tantalising fragment of a longer song. Of the remaining 13 tracks on disc three, six – including early duo "roughs" of five of the first-album tracks – were cut in 1974 in North Hollywood; a further six – including a brilliant version of the traditional Willie Moore recorded by the sisters with Roma Baran on guitar – the same year in New York. These 1974 recordings include half a dozen songs that I don't recall hearing on any official album releases, and their high artistic quality doesn't give any clue why they were dropped. The final demo track, Kate's reminiscence-cum-novella Saratoga Summer Song, sounds like it could have come from the 1971 session, but is listed as "date and studio unknown". There's pure unassuming genius at work here – and notwithstanding the brilliance of the sisters in duo mode, Kate herself is revealed as a stunning talent in her own right who could easily have explored a solo career had she had the mind to. But throughout this sequence of early demos and tryouts, I guarantee you'll be transfixed by those fabulous voices, the unbelievable alchemy of those harmonies and all over again, the haunting quality and top calibre of those songs.
Any McGarrigles fans who've already just purchased the Odditties collection can rest assured there's not a single recording duplicated between the two releases, and so can safely invest in the Tell My Sister set for the third disc alone.
David Kidman August 2011
Here we are at just over a year since Kate's untimely death last January, and that devastating news still hasn't sunk in. Late last year, this CD sneaked out with virtually no publicity, and ever since I managed to get hold of a copy it's been giving me enormous pleasure - and a significant number of rather tearful moments.
The basic history of this collection of previously unreleased recordings is sort-of explained in Anna's brief anecdotal liner-note. The sisters had long planned a compilation of songs that they remembered liking a lot, songs they had recorded for various projects between 1973 and 1990, but even when they got around to locating and evaluating the tapes the project always somehow got put off, simply cos "it could wait another year"!… But finally it's appeared - which is cause for rejoicing.
Despite being cobbled together from disparate sources, the disc's dozen tracks are sensibly grouped to form a powerful sequence that cumulatively gives us a rounded portrait of the sisters' musical attributes (if, inevitably, never painting quite the whole picture). Fittingly, since the sisters grew up singing Stephen Foster songs, the disc opens with a set of truly gorgeous renditions of four contrasted examples from that catalogue. Beginning with the doleful Was My Brother In The Battle and the rousing, hope-filled Better Times Are Coming (both of which were previously recorded by Kate and Anna for a Civil War-themed documentary series), then moving on through Kate's chokingly sublime account of Gentle Annie (to my mind easily surpassing the version on The McGarrigle Hour) to the beautiful, if brief lament Ah May The Red Rose, on which Anna's voice is so movingly counterpointed by Kate's telling harmony line.
The next item on the disc is the charming Wade Hemsworth ditty The Log Driver's Waltz, a song dating from the sisters' Mountain City Four days which had achieved more recent exposure when it formed the soundtrack of a short animation – and which we'd all been waiting for ages to get a CD recording of! The Hemsworth sequence continues with the boldly conceived, ambitiously arranged My Mother Is The Ocean Sea, an atmospheric and rather ethereal piece that I'd not heard before but makes a strong impact with orchestral and choral embellishments that magically enfold those characteristic rich vocal harmonies.
The decidedly catchy As Fast As My Feet, which follows, turns out to be another song new to me: a touch reminiscent of Kiss And Say Goodbye (from the first album), perhaps. This functions as an appetiser for a brace of French-language songs that didn't grace French Record (or indeed any previous McGarrigles disc): À La Claire Fontaine, recorded live, isn't anywhere near perfect as recording quality goes, but the intimacy of the performance is more than adequate compensation, whereas the sheer ebullience of the sisters' foot-tapping stomp through the Balfas' cajun standard Parlez-Nous À Boire has to be experienced to be believed. Kate's composition Lullaby For A Doll is another of those wonderfully nostalgic childhood-memory songs the sisters did so well, and another that was new to me – as was Louis The Cat, the slightly boxy sound of which betrays its source (a pre-first-album demo). The final cut is the sisters' own full-band recording of You Tell Me That I'm Falling Down, a song (co-written by Anna and Carol Holland) that had first appeared in a cover version by Linda Ronstadt (on her 1976 Prisoner In Disguise album) and which I'm sure I remember Kate and Anna singing onstage sometime around then.
It's sad that the presentation lets the disc down and undermines its value - for all we get, aside from Anna's aforementioned memoir, is a bare list of track titles and collective roster of musicians - no composition credits*, recording dates or personnel credits for individual tracks, let alone lyric sheets. Kate's memory deserves so much more. And it's a real pity too that the small Ontario-based label on which the CD's released doesn't seem to have a distribution deal here in the UK.
David Kidman February 2011
The McGarrigle Hour DVD (Hannibal)
Loudon, for example, takes charge for his own Schooldays and the trad Baltimore Fire, Martha has vocal duties on Cole Porter's Allez-Vous-En (showing she's inherited the distinctive McGarrigle tremulous flutter) and her self-penned Year of the Dragon (cousin Lily Lanken provides back up and takes her own lead on the touching Alice Blue Gown) while Rufus (looking incredibly young here) gets his solo turn in the spotlight for Heartburn, joins Martha and Kate for a gorgeous reading of the classic Talk To Me Of Mendocino and leads mom, dad and sister on What'll I Do.
Long time musical associate Chaim Tannenbaum steps up to sing Young Love and his own Time On My Hands while lesser known McGarrigle sister Jane takes to the piano to accompany her siblings on Bon Voyage. And so it goes.
It's all lovely, intimate stuff , some songs rendered a cappella (Johnny's Gone To Hilo sees everyone as an assembled choir), some with spare musical backing on banjo, guitar and piano, the set polished off with Rufus returning to take lead on the evergreen Goodnight Sweetheart. By way of a bonus, and showing how years pass, there's also four excerpts from Kate & Anna's 1981 concert at theatre Expo in Montreal, but perhaps the best of the extras is the hyperlink interviews, a facility that enables you to intercut the performances with Kate & Anna's comments on the songs and their family. It's a marvellous piece of musical history and, given recent re-opened rifts between Loudon and the kids, poignant celebration of family.
Mike Davies - December 2005
Kate & Anna McGarrigle - The McGarrigle Christmas Hour (Nonesuch)
It's that time of the year when you find yourself deluged by a succession of slick festive offerings from the Nashville machine as anyone who's ever worn a rhinestone feels compelled to record yet another collection of seasonal chestnuts.
Thank goodness then for a little sanity among the santa clauses in the contracts as Kate & Anna invite family and friends in for something a little more intelligent with this collection of traditional and contemporary songs.
Things start of in crisp, snow-rimmed and garland bedecked mood with church organ launching into the traditional Seven Joys of Mary as everyone, Beth Orton included, lets rip, the choir slimming down to mothers and their offspring for Old Waits Carol before Emmylou Harris takes centre pew to sing O Little Town of Bethlehem accompanied by just piano before brass and pretty much everyone's background vocals join the celebrations.
Kate and Anna are joined by respective daughters Martha Wainwright and Lily Lanken for the trad French tune Il Est Ne/Ça Bergers and Wise Men while things take a more modern turn with Martha and Lily handling lead for a plaintive cover of Jackson Browne's The Rebel Jesus.
Rufus Wainwright gets his turn upfront too, cosying up to the open fire with the evergreen What Are You Doing New Year's Eve, Some Children See Him and the self-penned tumbling Spotlight On Christmas.
Elsewhere the mix of old and new continues with Martha and Lily on Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Vinnie Dow providing the spoken passage to Counting Stars and an ensemble of voices doing solid duty on Port Starboard Sox and the ever reliable God Rest Ye Merry Christmas. Then mufflers return to the drawers and mince pies are polished off with long time collaborator Chaim Tannenbaum joining the sisters on a gentle, warmingly melancholic Blue Christmas. Now doesn't that all sound so much better than Tony Christie going big band on Merry Xmas Everybody!
Mike Davies
Midlands-born though of Irish and Romany gypsy descent, Ellen was inspired by traditional folk song from an early age, but then went on to form the band Saint Joan, whom she fronted for a little over five years. Since 2007 she's returned to her roots and started writing her own off-kilter folksongs informed by her wayward, unconventional childhood and the fantasy worlds into which she would escape. Ellen's music has been compared to that of Vashti Bunyan, but it actually seems to have more in common with that of current English-folk-inspired American nu/psych-folk artists like Pamela Wyn Shannon and Marissa Nadler.
Ellen has a bold and confident singing voice, albeit one that contains more than a hint of wavering fragility, combining its innate lightness and flexibility with a darker melancholy of tone and some really pained nuances; she accompanies herself assuredly on banjo, guitar and zither. On this, her debut album, her most powerful material – like the majestic, eerie He Is No Earthly Man and the prescient, Wilfred-Owen-referenced Upon Death And Dying – tends to reflect upon those time-honoured folksong themes, with The Wintering drawing the focus even closer and more directly personal with a moving tale of a suicide-note. Several of Ellen's songs concern themselves with transient characters whom she has known, loved and lost, while the more sinister aspects of her childhood world are evoked on The Fatal Flower Garden. Sometimes, too, Ellen draws parallels with mythological episodes (as on Teeth Of The Hydra, which has a quite scary Kate-Bush-meets-Linda-Perhacs feel, and Theseus), while the gentler Acolytes has an altogether more pastoral, if whimsical feel that recalls The Sun Also Rises. Outside of her own compositions, however, I'm not quite as convinced by Ellen's rendition of the purely traditional Lord Franklin, which promises well but ends rather suddenly before realising its full potential.
The musical arrangements Ellen adopts are staggeringly simple for the most part, with very few instrumental colours deployed at any one time (aside from Ellen's own contributions, there appear to be some guest musicians, on piano, cello, glockenspiel, harmonica and assorted percussion, but I was unable to unearth any further details); only some mildly obtrusive squeaking guitar action on the opening song A Watch Of Nightingales disturbs the peace (so to speak) of the settings. The biggest quibble is that at barely more than half-an-hour's duration, this utterly intriguing and exquisite album is over far too soon, and I can only hope that Ellen has a followup already in preparation.
www.southern.com
www.myspace.com/thecrescentsun
David Kidman September 2009
Last October, Kirsty performed a special one-off gig in her native Manchester (at Contact) with her full band The Hobopop Collective, a six-piece consisting of long-term collaborator Mat Martin with Rob Turner, Nick Blacka, James Steel (Brute Chorus), Christopher Cundy (Guillemots) and Clive Mellor. This gig formed the basis for Kirsty's fifth album release, and the decision was made to present it with no overdubs or repairs - exactly the way the songs were performed on the night, and unquestionably the best way of capturing the sound of the ensemble. The only difference from the actual gig being the inevitable editing-out of between-song tuning, extra applause etc? well no, it would appear that the band themselves have made the selection, choosing just nine songs from the total concert, and carefully re-sequenced them to give the best possible finished product.
From out of this process, two things emerge clear: first and most important, the very special atmosphere of a Kirsty McGee gig has definitely been captured, and second, the songs chosen give a very decent and pretty much representative spread of Kirsty's writing, with fresh new interpretations of some of her best songs to date (four from The Kansas Sessions and one - the perennially stunning Bliss - from her debut album Honeysuckle) settling in comfortably alongside four brand new songs which together are worth the price of admission in their own right.
These new songs run the gamut across what have of late become the principal strands of Kirsty's musical expression: on one hand, there's the animated movers, Omaha and Stonefruit, which employ an itchy-scratchy jugband jazzy vibe, tasty swinging let-it-hang-out tempos and eccentric junk percussion, and on the other hand the more deeply searching numbers, the supremely chilling Last Orders and the fragile, lonesome yet almost unbearably beautiful The Last To Understand. This one, coming immediately on the heels of the brilliant new treatment of the epic Bliss (on which I've never heard Kirsty better or more expressive), is the surest-fire candidate for the replay button I've found for a very long time - it's both delicate and really moving, and I just can't get it out of my consciousness. That's not to say that Faith, another now-proven-classic of the Kirsty McGee catalogue, comes off in any way badly - it forms a fine set- (and album-) closer, of that there's no doubt. Well I guess I admit to first feeling a mite shortchanged when the disc lasts only 36 minutes (that's just nine songs out of the 15 in the show) - but this is definitely one of those times when less is more (and there's a bonus, for the disc also contains a video of a tenth song, Bonecrusher). And I mustn't underplay the brilliantly judged contributions the band members make to realising Kirsty's vision, especially Mat.
Believe me, you need this record, cos Kirsty's really special. And go catch her on tour with the band this spring - for she's one of the few performers who's got such a powerful vocal presence that it stops you dead in your tracks and you'll be frozen to the spot.
David Kidman February 2010
The fourth album from the Mancunian songstress marks a huge departure from the pastoral contemporary folk and dusty English vocals of her previous releases. Recorded, as you might guess, in Kansas (Lawrence, to be precise) with Mike West, formerly of The Man From Del Monte, in the producer's chair and sharing multi-instrumental duties with Mat Martin, it's very much old school American folk-country with a dose of New Orleans jazz and vaudeville for good measure. Some call it boho-folk, she terms it hobopop.
It may also be the best thing she's recorded. Which, if you've heard her other albums, is really saying something.
There's a political streak to the material too, whether in the self-styled anti-capitalist New Orleans brassy gospel swing The Profit Song, the good timing (yodelling even) Bonecrusher's sly metaphor about self-destructive greed that could well apply to US foreign policy, or the more direct (yet never obvious) banjo dappled carny shuffle Gunsore with its lines about 'bombs that splutter in the road' and 'angel ray almost seventeen swallowing up the bullets like sweets'.
These are finely offset by the personal with songs about loss; of a relationship (the gentle early Janis Ian touches to the acoustic filigrees of Sparks, the Baez echoes of the hushed, softly sung No Way To Treat A Friend, the wind and rain tearing things apart in Shame) or trust (an achingly pure world-weary Faith).
And if anyone's written a song that captures the itch of paranoid delusion and nervous breakdown better than the skittering Harlem jazz jive and gypsy guitar of Killer Wasps, I've yet to hear it.
But, if there's loss, psychological hives and self-deluding wanderlust (Alibi Blues), there's also the pledge of love to the burnished Southern torch sway of Sandman and the mountain music bluegrass of Lamb, the dark passion and sensual intimacy of Dust Devils' clarinet kissed, Yiddish jazz-blues moods.
Whether this is a one-off or marks the start of a new musical direction for McGee, like its predecessors it's got an automatic free pass to the albums of the year list.
www.kirstymcgee.com
www.myspace.com/kirstymcgeeandmatmartin
Mike Davies August 2008
Again resonant with her love of Nick Drake, Cohen and Joni, her eco sensibilities find plenty of expression in images of the natural world with insects and the weather finding frequent expression within her songs. Mostly these hang their arms around relationships, their impermanence signified in songs of leaving (Plane Vapours), the wandering life (Spit & Shine), nature's ebb and flow (Kisses) and of life's passing (Cloudwatching). The passage of time weighs upon her songs too, the changing seasons, day giving way to night, month surrendering to month; two possible lovers staring into the dawn sky at the end of a party in Coffee Coloured Strings and its what happened afterwards companion piece Put Back The Stars, sitting on a bench watching the tide of life pass by at St Mark's Place as memories trickle into its stream.
This all with a slightly dusty, pure, careworn and very English voice (shown to fine effect in the a cappela trad sounding Safe Harbour Song) and musicians of the calibre of John Spiers, Roy Dodds, Neill MacColl and Boo Hewardine (who also produces) adding their mandolins, piano accordion, melodeons, guitars and double bass to McGee's own guitar and flute work. The sound of barley scented summer and harvest autumn nights, caught between late balmy breezes and early chills to the air, it's a gorgeous album that marks McGee as one of the finest exponents of literate and hauntingly emotional pastoral contemporary folk.
www.kirstymcgee.com
www.parkrecords.com
Matt McGinn - The Best Of Matt McGinn Volume 2 (Greentrax)
Gallowgate native Matt McGinn, who died in 1977 at the early age of 48, was one of the most celebrated of the Glasgow songwriters who compiled what might loosely be termed the urban folk traditions into his own hilarious, sharply observed little songs. He took in his stride the foibles of the age, and coined a determined modern-day expression for his back-street politics through his embracing of diverse elements such as traditional ballad narrative and popular satire alongside more obviously populist sources like street-corner soapboxers, other music of the streets, kids' games and rhymes and music-hall.
Prolific almost to a fault, Matt was a household name in Scotland and in folk circles worldwide for over two decades, and many of his songs are still sung in folk clubs without their authorship being readily (or in some cases even correctly) acknowledged, yet his recordings have not often been collected together in easily available packages. Volume 1 of The Best Of Matt McGinn appeared in 2000 on Castle, and presented recordings he made between 1966 and 1969. Volume 2, the natural successor, collects together under licence the recordings which originally appeared on RCA International in 1971 and 1972 (the two vinyl LPs Take Me Back To The Jungle and Tinny Can On My Tail), with a lone bonus track in the shape of the showstopping Wee Kirkcudbright Centipede, which comes from a 1973 Moonbeam EP (pity the rest of the EP could not have been included for completeness, but let's be thankful for what we have here!).
Matt was not just an exceptional writer of purposefully humorous songs, as the equally perceptive yet more personal, reflective Troubled Waters In My Soul, the stirring chronicle Ibrox Disaster, the anti-pollution Tinny Can, the political singalong Yes, Yes, UCS and the pensive Tell Me What The Tea Leaves Tell Me prove. Notwithstanding his necessary strong local bias, his songs are wonderfully accessible and easy to appreciate, whether they be original compositions in the folk idiom or else rich parodies either of popular lyrics (Have A Banana) or hoary old folk standards (In A Neat Little Town); there was always a keen creative intelligence at work. Only one item on this collection is not self-penned - Jim McLean's Lady Chat (a Lawrentian rejoinder to Adam MacNaughtan's Hamlet, Hamlet?!), which fits in with the McGinn songs as to the manner born. Listening to these gleefully turned recordings again, it's tempting to hear Matt as a clear inspiration to folk-jokers like Billy Connolly.
The producer of the original albums, Pete Kerr, had rated the album sessions as some of the most enjoyable he'd ever worked on, and the warm, easily convivial atmosphere Matt and his pals created was tangible, with everyone having a ball. Interestingly, the session musos for the first of the LPs included Dick Gaughan, Alex Sutherland and Alistair Watson, but for some strange reason the performer credits for the second LP are infinitely more sketchy! Anyway, congratulations to Greentrax supremo Ian Green on this reissue, which showcases the remarkable breadth (and sometimes surprising depth) of Matt's songwriting and performing abilities. He was always a prolific geezer, and it's hoped that this volume will sell well enough to tempt more of his recordings to resurface.
www.greentrax.com
www.mattmcginn.info
David Kidman
This lineup may sound like it has the trappings of a supergroup, but the musicians wear their brilliant light under a bushel for this ebullient and joyful offering has appeared with all possible modesty. Those two legendary guitarists, Chris and Arty, have for long been at the forefront of creative cutting-edge interpretation of tradition (within whatever musical "region"), and their mastery of style and innovation has long been a talking point among discerning music lovers. Máire's command of the Irish harp is unrivalled, while her sister Nollaig's exquisite fiddle playing has long been revered for its combination of fire and lyricism. What a spellbinding combination of talents then! On this exemplary disc, eclecticism is the watchword, and when allied to playing of this calibre you just know you're in for a fabulous ride. It's like a home-grown Transatlantic Session, with Irish and other Celtic musics meeting bluegrass and ragtime head-on and producing something fresh and vibrant with all the spirit of the best sessions in town. The first four tracks alone demonstrate what a fine balance is being struck: Wild Goose Chase (a composition by Chris himself) has harp being pursued by guitars and fiddle over a Hispanic landscape, while Tom Cronin's Homework has more of an old-time feel and the pace slackens for the delightfully "orchestrated" Song Of The Harp (only surpassed by the majestic Lament For Limerick later on the disc) and the crew then jig out on a traditional set that would knock most full-time tune-bands into a corner. Chris and Arty turn in a beautifully understated, gently rockin' (fun rockabilly-style) duet variant of Merle Travis' Saturday Night Shuffle (with a middle-eight derived from oral tradition - ie Chris's brother Mark!). Chris's El Vals Argentino is a persuasive illustration of how several seemingly different musical styles can prove on closer examination to have much in common. Even the breakneck pace the foursome adopt for the Bill Monroe Gold Rush doesn't wrong-foot any of them in the slightest! Variety proves the spice of the disc with two songs sung deftly and precisely by Nollaig (I especially liked her take on Among The Heather). Everywhere you turn on the disc, in fact, the unstintingly high standard of the playing is miraculous, the musicianship supreme; all of the musicians are noted for their virtuosity and their fastidious attention to detail, but this aspect never allowed to get in the way of the expression of their intense musicality. Even non-guitarists will regularly marvel at Chris's superlative flatpicking and his tremendous gift for improvisation, and the sheer range of textures and moods Nollaig conjures from her fiddle (and viola) strings is astonishing, while the warmth and power of Máire's harpistry would melt even the sternest harp-allergy, and Arty's rhythmic inventiveness is but one compelling facet of his extraordinary talent prominently displayed on this disc. So if you want a scintillating and varied menu to spice up your listening, you can do no better than indulge yourself with the excellent Heartstring Sessions.
David Kidman October 2008
Aurora features the core group of fine musicians Dezi Donnelly (fiddle), Neil Yates (trumpet), Donald Shaw (keyboards and production), Ed Boyd (guitar) and Ewen Vernal (bass), with James Mackintosh, Che Beresford, John Joe Kelly and Parvinder Bharat on varied and specialist percussion duties that give the project a piquant signature. Guests are also brought in on assorted or individual tracks: Manus & Donal Lunny, John McCusker, Alan Kelly, Brendan Power, Anna Massie, Dermot Byrne and Tommy Smith all contribute meaningfully. And on the disc's curiosity – its lone vocal track, a well-judged Transatlantic-Session-style account of Dirk Powell's Waterbound – Michael's fetching singing (and guitar, mandolin and dobro playing) is complemented by the charismatic duet voice of Heidi Talbot, singing persuasively as ever.
Of course, the presence of so many guest musicians elsewhere should not be taken as an indication that Michael tires of the spotlight – far from it, for his scintillating flute, whistle and uillean-pipes virtuosity is the thread that binds the project together and tirelessly graces every track in some form or other (apart from Waterbound, which is a special case that gives us a rare glimpse of another side of Michael's talent). And yet it's impossible to tire of the sounds of those instruments in such expert hands, especially when Michael generously and rightly affords ample chances for other musicians to shine when he steps back from the lead melody role and decorates the texture so tastefully.
As far as the disc's compositions are concerned, Michael is responsible for a sizeable majority of them, yet his invention runs no risk of getting stale as he reworks traditional forms with such creativity and sprightly vivacity. It's no wonder that he's always so much in demand (who else has a CV that stretches from Capercaillie, Flook and Lúnasa to Afro-Celts and Sharon Shannon's band). Whatever the tempo or mood (and there's loads to choose from within Aurora's 53-minute span), Michael's musicianship totally convinces – from trusty slow reels to evocative session-style jigs – while the gentler climes of Breton-inspired Pontivy and Donald's masterful audio portrait of the enigmatic cyclic whirlpool of Corrievreckan also provide satisfying diversions. Only the closing funk excursion, guitarist Ian Fletcher's Tunin Dre, didn't quite hold my attention and appears a bit of an anticlimactic squib to end the disc on – but the rest of the album is satisfying and stimulating and rounded in a way that Fused and Wired, fine though they were, in retrospect only hinted at.
David Kidman April 2010
You'd not expect anything less than a super-charged set of sophisticated, energetic folk-fusion from Michael now, would you? In the opinion of many, he's the current folk scene's acknowledged master of flute, whistles and uillean pipes, and of course on this count alone he's unlikely to disappoint. But as anyone who's followed Michael's blistering career thus far will attest, his creativity knows no bounds; his previous solo albums, At First Light and especially Fused, demonstrated Michael's innate tendency to inspire the finest playing in all his fellow-musicians alongside his penchant for breaking new ground without really trying, and easily incorporating new sounds into traditional and traditional-styled musics without a trace of awkwardness or uneasy conscience, the end result flowing as naturally as the tradition itself. Wired takes the (occasionally ever-so-slightly tentative) experiments of Fused that degree further, and involves a veritable who's who of great musicians (such is Michael's drawing-power that they're queuing round the block to collaborate with him!), including members of Capercaillie, Flook! And Shooglenifty (Donald Shaw, Manus Lunny, Ed Boyd, Ewen Vernal, James Mackintosh), not to mention fiddler Dezi Donnelly, trumpet player Neil Yates, bodhránist JonJoeKelly and tabla player Parvinder Bharat; there's also numerous additional guests including James Grant and Anna Massie (guitars), while John McCusker, Alison Brown and the Scottish String Ensemble make but cameo appearances. A healthily eclectic, definitively world-beating mix, with mesmerising and unusual flavours aplenty yet never a feeling of "exotic grooves for their own sake". The twelve pieces on Wired each twist and turn seductively during their purposeful but almost casual course, yet always manage to steer that course with minimal excess baggage on board, only one piece (track 10, which starts out as a slow air then jigs along off onto The Desert Road) stretching out to over seven minutes' duration (and even then not outstaying its welcome). Strange Journey is another example of a piece that develops organically from a selectively lush, almost ambient soundscape through to altogether jazzier environs yet preserving the essential folk sensibility of the source stylings; jazz also surfaces prominently on Edinburgh Rock (track 11) - great trumpet solo there by the way! The ever-changing musical backdrop is but one facet of the appeal of this album, and unusual instrumental combinations abound, often proving uncannily effective (bet you never thought you'd hear mandolin accompanied by marimba - but just you hear the opening of track 9!), and even the presence of sampled vocals on Sophie's is an intriguing touch, an innovation rather than an intrusion. You can't listen to Wired and remain unmoved, either by Michael's inventiveness or by the invigorating contributions of his fellow-musos.
David Kidman
Tim McGraw - Live Like You Were Dying (Curb)
It's not difficult to hear why Tim McGraw has registered 23 US No 1 singles and six multi-platinum albums. On Live Like You Were Dying McGraw embodies the very best of American country music.
After a barnstorming opening track, How Do You Want It, which is the kind of defiant face-off where it's best to blink first, the album settles back into some very good country rock.
However there's far more to Tim McGraw than a 'good ol boy' whose handy with a guitar and a melody. And even though occasionally, very occasionally, the lyrics flirt with cliché, 'Talk is cheap and free advice is worth the price you pay' being probably the most glaring example, by and large the songs are neatly written and McGraw is a charming and engaging performer. It's impossible to not like the man and, more importantly, put your trust in him. It's a trust that becomes increasingly important as the CD progresses. When you get to the level of success that Tim McGraw has attained, you get sent the best songs and Old Town New and the title track are just two that serve him well. You also have the clout to get it just right but it's what you do with the material and the clout that counts and that's why McGraw is undoubtedly a star.
Strangely, as Live Like You Were Dying rolls on, there's a sort of deeper, darker sub-album running parallel to the love songs and wonderful country ballads like Open Season On My Heart. The cautionary Drugs To Jesus, We Carry On and most telling Kill Myself take it all in an unexpected direction. Now country music is no stranger to heartache and tragedy, it's built on it, but Kill Myself is in a whole different league and hits like a bolt out of the blue. Unfortunately my sleeve notes don't say who wrote it, whoever it was held nothing back and there's a real sense of unburdening on it and McGraw's performance only serves to heighten the song's emotional tension.
It's as well that it comes at the end of the album, because the integrity and honesty of the previous 14 songs answer any questions about the subject matter.
Whether We Carry On follows it by design or accident, will probably remain unanswered but after Kill Myself has caused the ripples, We Carry On ends the album, as it began, on a note of defiant optimism.
With Live Like You Were Dying Tim McGraw shows just why he's a country superstar but he also shows he retains a musician's heart.
Michael Mee
I somehow lost track of Wes's albums a few years back, so it's good to get back on the train with this, his first since 2003. Happily, little has changed in the interim, he's even back on his own imprint after 15 years, and, even better, he's reunited the line up from the Thanks For The Chicken live album and found his way back to the TexMex stylings that first bought him to attention with songs like the classic Monterrey.
He gets into the swing from the get go with Moon Over Ciudad Acuna with its mariachi brass and cantina tequila sway, keeping the Andalusian mood but taking the pace down to a dancefloor slow dance with Al Andalus And You and the melancholic waltz The Ghost of Dale Watkins, a homage to one of legendary characters on the Austin scene but also, noting that "I'm losing my friends one by one", a songs about the increasing frequency of mortality as the years wear on.
Mexico and memories loom again on the reflective Orbisonesque title track while, by way of lyrical and musical contrast, McGhee gets into his rock n roll boots for the bluesy swagger Don't Let The Monkey Drive, a non too veiled swipe at George Bush's apocalyptic foreign policy, while Shame On You Rosie takes a rockabilly beat to kiss off bad news on two legs with "a fine education" but not "a pinch of style".
Elsewhere you'll find spooky diners (Is Anybody There), sassy sleaze and sex (Ragged Annie, sounding like a bluesy Doug Sahm number) and not so best wishes to an old heartbreaker (Happy Anniversary), but it's the two part twelve minute play out Texas #2 that is the album's high point, a remembrance of and tribute to Roxy Gordon, the iconclastic Choctaw Indian West Texas poet, musician and storyteller who met McGhee when he first flew into Fort Worth and, over the next 30 years, would be mentor, guide, inspiration, collaborator and friend.
Part 1, Talba is a collage of sound recordings of Gordon and Grandma Bodell to a soundtrack of McGhee's cinematic desert guitar, leading to 25 Years On as Wes, meditating on mortality again, recalls riding in Grandma's red cadillac, the ghosts of West Texas left behind in the dry dust of changing times, and bids farewell to Roxy, Townes, Watkins and Sahm, urging Gordon to keep the campfire burning till they meet again. Hopefully that'll be many years and a lots more albums like this away.
Mike Davies, March 2006
Fledg'ling continues its programme to restore to the catalogue the landmark, highly creative and largely unsung recordings of exiled South African pianist Chris McGregor, with a reissue of the 1968 Polydor set on which he and his group were at a peak of energy and intensity. The album's title sums it up precisely: Chris and his group produced music so very urgent (and entirely uncompromising too) that you just couldn't ignore it. Very Urgent actually pre-dates by around three years the first of Chris's bigger-band Brotherhood Of Breath releases (and interestingly, it was produced by Joe Boyd (with engineer John Wood) roughly concurrently with the classic Island/Elektra Witchseason projects). The sensational, fiery group lineup that Chris commanded here comprised fellow Blue Notes Dudu Pukwana (alto sax) and Mongezi Feza (pocket trumpet), with Ronnie Beer (tenor sax), Johnny Dyani (bass) and Louis Moholo (drums), and their music was a joyful paragon of the rising British free-jazz world which they then inhabited, with all its characteristic roughness of spirit which took precedence over absolute precision yet never quite obscured its undoubted technical proficiency. The free-jazz idiom's archetypal unbridled fast'n'loose headlong rush and (apparent) cacophony is thrust out there in full force on the pair of central tracks Heart's Vibration and The Sound's Begin Again/White Lies, the latter especially energetic with its torrent of cascading saxes and tumbling drumming, piano clusters erupting like lava and spilling out all over the rhythms. The LP opens unusually gently, however, with the lyrically bluesy Marie My Dear, before succumbing to more bebop-like figurations as the music gathers pace on Travelling Somewhere. The final track, Chris's stunning 15-minute arrangement of Don't Stir The Beehive, is the proverbial bee's knees: powerful, dramatic and purposeful, with portentous, almost funereal last-post brass echoes punctuating the manic lashing drumming. A raw, exhilarating and extraordinarily life-affirming musical experience, unquenchable and unforgettable and not in the least dated. It's to be welcomed with open ears back to the catalogue - and in a most attractive new digipack too, with a perceptive sleevenote.
David Kidman June 2008
This is a straight reissue for the first solo album that Roger had released after a long gap since the celebrated 1977 Thunderbyrd. It turned out to be his last rock-oriented album, and almost predictably it charted well in the States. I'd not picked up on it when it originally appeared (on Arista in 1991), but it's surprisingly good, albeit admittedly not of absolute-classic status. The basic vibe is catchy but classy upbeat jangle-pop, with that unmistakable mellifluous electric 12-string right to the fore on every track – with certain riffs and figures plundered from the Byrds back-catalogue, inevitably. And Roger's trademark smooth-but-expressive vocals give the songs (mostly McGuinn originals) a yearningly timeless aura, whatever their topic (The Trees Are All Gone through to Without Your Love). Roger commands a stellar backing-crew (including Tom Petty, Benmont Tench, John Jorgenson and Michael Thompson) and there are guest backing-vocal appearances from David Crosby and Chris Hillman, and Elvis Costello (on his own You Bowed Down). Production values are high and the set sounds great (tho' we could've done without the gimmicks on Car Phone). Altogether it's an appealing set, and sure worth reviving.
David Kidman April 2009
Treasures from the Folk Den is a collection of tradition folk songs, played acoustically with 12 and 6-string guitars, banjo, violin and dulcimer, with guests including Joan Baez, Tommy Makem, Pete Seeger, Odetta and Judy Collins. Wagoner's Lad, Nottamun Town, Finnigan's Wake, Alabama Bound, Whiskey in the Jar are amongst the 18 tracks on the album (plus an eight minute hidden track). The songs are recorded in one take. The feeling is of a songwriters circle: different lead instruments and singers alternating and providing harmonies for each other. The inimitable Pete Seeger features strongly and many will want this album for that alone.
This collection has come out of what is now McGuinn's passion; the songs he's collected for his Folk Den Web Page. Using the Web to preserve and continue the folk tradition - the telling of stories and singing of songs - he's amassed a wealth of songs to share with anyone who visits his website. Since 1995, a "new" folk song has been uploaded every month and each can be heard and downloaded via Real Audio. His Folk Den Web Page is an important addition to our musical and cultural heritage.
Here is Ex-Byrds Roger McGuinn, with the signature Rickenbacker 12-string and instantly recognisable voice; the songwriter of such hits as Mr Spaceman, Eight Miles High and Fifth Dimension, and a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, with a low-key and very personal project. You have to admire the man and what he's doing as you enjoy this very special collection of wonderful folk performances. I found it utterly compelling.
Sue Cavendish
David Kidman August 2007
David Kidman July 2009
Ayrshire-based Maggie MacInnes comes from a long line of Gaelic singers from the Hebridean island of Barra, her mother being the celebrated Flora MacNeil. She is also a gifted exponent of the clarsach. Formerly a member of various groups such as Ossian and Eclipse, she now has a solo career, and Spiorad Beatha is her second solo release. It's characterised by her beautifully clear singing, exemplary in tone and diction on every single track, with shadings and nuances that are a joy to the ear, and moreover the language proves no barrier to appreciation of the songs (texts and translations are provided in the admirable booklet), all traditional arranged by Maggie with Graeme Hughes.
Maggie is also blessed with a varied array of interesting, though perfectly accessible accompaniments for the songs; these embrace clarsach, keyboards, fiddle, with on some tracks a modicum of percussion, and others displaying an unexpectedly "rocky" edge with Graeme's electric guitar or bass. The comparatively lengthy A'Mhic Dhúghaill 'ic Ruairidh, which features Brian McAlpine's piano against the uilleann piping of Keith Easdale, benefits from an altogether more barren soundscape, as does the ensuing O Hù As Mo Rùn Air (with the weaving counterpoint of Sean O'Rourke's sax). There's also some fine backing vocals on various tracks, from singers including Flora herself; a group of children also chant on two cuts (though with none of the cringe factor that normally has me reaching for the off button, I'm glad to say). Amongst the other fine musicians involved here we encounter Ali Napier, Paul Jennings and Capercaillie's Charlie McKerron. This is a very satisfying release indeed, with quality, variety and enterprise in roughly equal measure.
David Kidman
Any album with such a title would normally send me reaching for the bin (or at least hurling it in that direction!), but having been enchanted by Mairi's earlier solo albums for Greentrax I was determined to give this CD an open-minded listen. I'm glad I did, for although Tickettyboo's 23 tracks (all fairly short, and all sung in Gaelic) comprise songs intended primarily for children, the performances are adult and refreshingly unpatronising. Mairi herself has the ideal voice for this repertoire of course, and has the distinct advantage over other interpreters of children's songs in that she grew up on South Uist where Gaelic song and poetry was an integral part of play and learning. This album presents a generous selection of the songs which Mairi had featured and performed on the two BBC series Orain Is Rannan (Songs And Rhymes), and range from wholly delightful songs of nature through to gently humorous, fun songs and lullabies. A significant number of the songs are Mairi's own compositions too. It's a bit like that famous Donovan Gift From A Flower To A Garden album, in fact, in feel and mood, but with its own special poetry that's created partly by the sheer musicality of the Gaelic language. Mairi's alternating accompanists are Tony McManus (guitar, fiddle) and William Jackson (clarsach, whistles, keyboard, bodhrán), both of whom prove totally sympathetic and capable of exercising the necessary restraint and subtlety wherever called for. Perhaps the only drawback of this charming CD is the persistent over-use of sound samples on a few of the songs; was this approach chosen in an attempt to overcome the language barrier, I wonder? well if so, then it's a tad misguided I feel, for it's far better to hear the songs unadulterated and let the poetry speak for itself.
www.mairimacinnes.com
www.greentrax.com
David Kidman
Robbie McIntosh - Wide Screen (Compass Records)
Compass Records of Nashville has impeccable taste. Founders, Grammy award-winning banjo-player Alison Brown and husband Gary West, have signed some of the best roots music from the UK including Fairport Convention, Eddi Reader, Kate Rusby, Paul Brady, Clive Gregson, and Robbie McIntosh.
His musical pedigree as world-class axeman (Pretenders, Paul McCartney's Wings) and musician's musician would make him one to look out for, but this is definitely his best album yet - and I just love it!
His core band for 'Wide Screen' is one he's toured with and it has that well-worn, road-tested togetherness which so many studio albums don't have. The wonderfully catchy Rat In A Hole, in real Tom Petty style, opens this album of country rockers, jazzy/blues and Americana-feel songs. Throughout, Robbie's guitars (from electric slide to fingerstyle acoustic), mandolin and bass; Melvin Duffy's pedal steel or Hawaiian guitars; Paul Beavis's drums and percussion, plus Mark Feltham's inimitable harmonica, strut and shuffle along with joyful exuberance or melodic laziness. Drop-in guests include Chrissie Hynde and Paul Young on vocals. Look out for an appearance by Alison Brown on banjo and Garry West on bass.
The late Douglas Adams first released Robbie's instrumental album, Unsung, on his own Digital Village label. This too is available on Compass. Adams wrote, "Robbie McIntosh is one of the world's best guitar players, and also one of its most incompetent human beings, as anyone who has watched him trying to buy a shirt will tell you." He may have a problem with daily practicalities but he can produce a real stunner of an album. Let someone else look after the other stuff!
Sue Cavendish
Emotional Bends - Robbie McIntosh (Vandeleur VANCD 005)
No, this is not the Average White Band's (late) Robbie McIntosh. This is the other Robbie McIntosh, formerly Pretenders and Paul McCartney's Wings axe-man, and he's very much alive and one heck of a fine guitarist.
Emotional Bends is his first 'solo' album with band, released 1999. There's McIntosh himself on Epiphone Coronet, Martin D28, Fender Stratocaster & Telecaster (and probably lots more) and vocals, the excellent Pino Palladino (ex-Paul Young) on bass, showman Mark Feltham on harmonica, Paul Beavis on drums and Melvin Duffy on pedal steel; superior musicians all. The album was recorded analogue to give it a 'live' sound but it was digitally mixed. In fact most of the album was recorded live with very few overdubs.
The album swings along in style. It's a tasty, rootsy collection: pub R&B shuffle, country rock, Texas swing, hard-edged blues and foot-tapping cajun. McIntosh's Martin is all over the album, and quite a bit of Stratocaster, and his slide playing is a joy.
McIntosh has been touring with Melvin Duffy on pedal steel and Mark Feltham on harmonica and they are wonderful live. Feltham doesn't just play the harmonica, he's personally involved and 'dances' with it (well, it's hard to describe!). They performed a great set at the 12-Bar on March 28. It's impossible to keep still when that Jimmy Reed-feel insistent R&B starts working away at you. But the other side of McIntosh impresses as well - the gently invasive Homesteaders, laid-back country rock played acoustically 'live', is a stand-out song, and there were two fingerstyle instrumental numbers to smooth over one's creases. There are new songs too; material for a new album, one hopes.
Sue Cavendish
Recorded in LA with a band that included Lucinda Williams' guitarist Doug Pettibone on pedal steel and banjo and Emmylou Harris bassist Daryl Johnson, it opens with the title track that provided the project's impetus, a gorgeous spare and romantic yearning lilt with snare drum slow march beat, keening steel and soulful harmonies. If nothing else quite produces the same shiver down the spine and Gloria sounds perhaps a little too similar to Springsteen's I'm On Fire, there's still plenty to make your heart melt.
To banjo and pedal steel backing, Bluebell Wood showcases Lorraine's soprano with lovely waltzing wedding day memories, the acoustic All My Trust I Place In You sees them harmonising on a soaring pledge of enduring love, the simple guitar backed Walls features Ross on a song about not shutting yourself away from those who care, while the mid-tempo handclapping Silver And Gold and the plaintive country ballad Oh The Dark both conjure Gram and Emmylou thoughts.
Rounding off with the hidden a capella gospel Jesus Nailed My Sins Upon The Tree, it deserves to find an audience beyond the Deacon Blue fan base, though it must be said that Mount Juliet's postal system tribute to these 'brave messengers... delivering their parcels and epistles' seems unlikely to go down too well among those suffering with the current Royal Mail strikes.
Mike Davies September 2009
The family tree spreads its branches through the songs too, the simple acoustic guitar-accompanied Samuel Demster RIP recounting the story of his great-grandfather who went off to serve in WWI and never came home.
Featuring several first takes, it's a fairly rough and ready affair, Macintyre's voice often more concerned with catching the emotional mood than the right notes. But considerably more introverted and hushed than his previous work, there's a warm quality to its casual shambling, whether on the flamenco shanty Cape Wrath, the soft brown tones of the fiddle accompanied Breathe or relatively lush King Creosote collaboration Out Stealing Horses. the island life suits him.
www.myspace.com/colinmacintyre
www.colinmacintyre.com
Mike Davies July 2009
Hers is not an easy name to get right, but K.C. proves a singer-songwriter worth your close attention on the evidence of her fourth album received recently for review. Of course, since it contains exclusively self-penned material, one would expect to undergo a period of acclimatisation to K.C.'s personal style before reaping the rewards that are obviously there for the taking.
So it's a bit frustrating therefore that available biographical and background info on K.C. is rather scant (do we assume she's US-born and bred?), and virtually all the press coverage on her music thus far seems to originate in Germany! But it's useful to know that after a mid-teens baptism in the music of The Band, then Beefheart and Tori Amos, it was a meeting with Joe "Budi" Budinsky (and his record collection!) that would appear to have been the catalyst for the unleashing of K.C.'s creative muse back in 2004. Since which time, Budi and his bass, banjo and percussion have become permanent musical partners for K.C.'s own voice and guitars.
Her music is also quite hard to pin down as far as genre is concerned, for she hops and flits across and back over, and sometimes straddles, that awkward boundary-line between Americana and Brit-folk s/s, with shades of Leonard Cohen angst and old-time wistfulness thrown into the mix too, and musically speaking there are sometimes even mild folk-rock touches, especially on DryLand with its generally more extensive use of drums and percussion compared to K.C's previous work (albeit only on selected tracks) to provide the rhythm element.
It's both curious and interesting, though, that despite the beautiful and unpretentious sparseness of her music, the stripped-down nature of most of K.C.'s arrangements and the softly personal, intimate, passionate nature of her thoughts on love, lust, longing and despair, her writing can be intriguingly complex, elusive and challenging – disturbed and yet relaxed in demeanour. And yet, although each individual song carries its own heady, melancholy perfume and makes a strong impact during the time it occupies the airwaves, it can be hard to recall the delicate melodies therein.
DryLand's highpoints are pretty individual in basic character though: the purposeful opening title track creatively offsets a rollicking uptempo country shuffle with a yearning cello line, while Lovesick Boy is intoned to an eerie knocking percussion, squeezebox drone and spectral clucking banjo. A brooding, bluesy cello and bass pervades Man Of Gentle Birth and an even more stealthy tread informs To The Ground, whereas The Shabby Bride resonates ominously with echoes of traditional folk balladry, Machine Gun Fire ricochets its muted banjo sparks to a jew's harp rhythm, and Mirrors, Spoons And Bottles is a deliciously homespun banjo-ridden come-on. The disc closes with the pained emotional kernel of Into The Killerstorm. After only two or three plays, the album is fast revealing its true stature, becoming a front-runner in my affections of late.
David Kidman December 2009
Back in 2005 I praised Andrew's solo CD Pennbucky To Llangenny for its more than able presentation of his own original songs on the theme of Swansea's maritime and industrial history. Andrew's latest CD, Characters, is by contrast a true duo effort in conjunction with his lovely wife Carole, herself also a singer of distinctive character whose voice more often than not well complements the sturdy timbre of Andrew's own. On Characters they present a well-varied and well-programmed collection of songs that cover traditional, music-hall and recently-composed with equal facility; there's also a keen sense of proud enjoyment in the duo's singing that's really infectious and positively invites you to join in with the rousing choruses they evidently like so much. If you believe in judging a book by its cover, then the first track on the CD will conform to your expectations, for the ancient music-hall ditty Down In A Diving Bell embodies the saucy-seaside-postcard ambience of the trayback photo to a T (or should that be a C?!), if not quite plumbing the depths of cheeky humour! Although this naughty mood surfaces from time to time over the CD's 53 minutes, it doesn't dominate, and moving on through the CD proves to be an altogether more sober affair at times with some well-pointed contrasts. For, enormous fun though the sillier items are, it's some of the more serious items that provide the CD's most rewarding and lasting musical experiences (if not quite its defining moments) for me. For a start, Scarecrow (written by Maria Cunningham) is a brilliantly evocative song of ancient lore and earth-mystery, on which the apt combination of Carole's keening voice and Andrew's concertina does its eerie symbolism full justice (but the song's still gone straight to my own must-learn list!). Reflecting Andrew's time with the Baggyrinkle shanty crew, there's Walk Her Away, a shanty-like composition of Andrew's describing various dockside characters. The late Brian Ingham, a much-missed "character" from the maritime music scene, is affectionately remembered by Carole's very poignant rendition of his Love Now Let Me Call Your Name. For intriguingly, each of the CD's 16 songs revolves around one or more of the "characters", "good or bad, humorous or sad", who provide life's talking-points. There's both men (the legendary Childe The Hunter, the scurrilous travelling tinker of Too High Or Else Too Low) and ladies - from aggressive Portsmouth businesswoman Mary Baker (celebrated in a lively shanty-like composition by Carole) and safety campaigner Big Lil from Hull, to "Harriet Lane", which (you'd never have guessed!) turns out to be the nickname for an early variety of Spam much favoured by ships' crews! Some rather more familiar characters appear in Kipling's Smugglers' Song and Colin Wilkie's Icy Acres (here done at a suitably celebratory, and welcomingly non-lugubrious, tempo for a change). And there's a small cast of characters accompanying the duo on parts of this record: Andy Baker (guitar), Ken Simpson (mandolin, fiddle) and a three-piece female chorus. As singers, both Andrew and Carole have by and large chosen songs that suit both their temperament and the particular qualities of their voices: Andrew's combination of robustness and gentle passion are captured well by the full-toned recording, although on Butterflies (Andrew's own wistful homage to the Swansea oyster fleets) the awkwardly wide compass of the melody seems to tax his intonation a little). Once or twice on songs which the duo sing together, I felt Andrew was a touch undermiked, or else Carole was too forward in the mix; that feeling of being sometimes overpowered by Carole may however be just a misleading impression created by virtue of the actual tonal quality (and strikingly clear diction) of her voice and the admirably close recording she's given (she can come across very occasionally as a slightly schoolmistressy version of Shirley Collins who's determined to make an impression to get her point over). No such problems with the balance on the CD's closer, the inspirational emigration song Tomorrow Noon, which leaves us in no doubt about the talents of this special singing partnership. Which extend to effective presentation skills: the whole package impressively exhibits a strong sense of identity and personality through Andrew's attractively risqué cover theme, the saucy-seaside-postcard pastiche and period-snapshot motifs accurately conveying both the naughtier side of their repertoire and their loving attention to detail which extends to the admirably informative liner notes.
David Kidman May 2007
This is a refreshingly intimate record, with no guest musicians and no excessive studio enhancements, of two award-winning practitioners of their art exploring their traditional Scottish heritage in a series of honest self-penned compositions of tender beauty. Although both Catriona and Chris continue to enjoy membership of the acclaimed ensemble Fiddlers' Bid, they've become increasingly renowned for their duo work over the past few years.
Their previous album, Laebrack, was enchanting, and confirmed the musical partnership as something quite special, but if anything the two musicians feel even closer together on White Nights. Prior to investigating this disc, you might be one of those who consider the combination of harp and fiddle a touch esoteric for casual listening, but such is the skill with which Catriona and Chris weave their intricate, yet understated musical patterns that the effect is anything but rarefied or lightweight. I'd probably go as far as to say that the opening track, Missing You, a composition of Catriona's, is one of the most emotionally compelling pieces of original music I've heard in a while: a masterly reflection of mournful, plangent beauty that really hits the heart.
And in complete contrast, the disc contains plenty of more lively pieces like the sparkling title track (which really conjures up the excitement generated by the "eternal nights" one experiences in Shetland) and the nervous syncopated energy of Edges And High Water, whereas I'd defy anyone to resist Eira, a delectable pair of waltzes (the second of which, a traditional Irish piece Parting Of Friends, is the only non-original on the whole disc), or Chris's closing evocation of a forest of remembrance, Michaelswood. Although the sounds the two instruments make are perfectly accessible and appealing to the listener, the music sometimes presents a gentle challenge in that the use of traditional forms doesn't quite lead the musicians where you might expect – so be prepared to make an effort at times. Which will not prove difficult when the playing's as constantly scintillating (and unobtrusively so) as this. And persuasive too; for all its intimacy, I really like the way Catriona and Chris both leave sufficient space within their playing-space, not only for each other to respond and react but also for the listener to "intrude" (in the nicest possible way), so that their music-making never feels exclusive.
Stylistically too, the musicians' open embracing of elements of medieval, Scandinavian and other world musics is a further instance of their keen inclusiveness. This is music that relies on ambience rather than obvious pyrotechnics, but there's no lack of fire and it proves an enthralling disc.
www.myspace.com/catrionamckayharp
www.chrisstout.co.uk
David Kidman October 2010
This is the second CD to be released on this enterprising Skye-based small label by the popular, sturdy-voiced singer from the Isle Of Lewis, and once again it contains a thoroughly accessible and engaging selection of material mixing composed pieces with more traditional Gaelic songs. At any rate, that's my own perception - yet at the outset I'd better say that although I find Iain's robust, sometimes quite strident manner of singing attractive and invigorating, it might be considered a little too forthright to suit all folk tastes; it provides quite a contrast from the altogether softer-toned female voices we've got used to hearing of late in Gaelic-language repertoire. That aspect of Iain's performance may at first prove more of a barrier to acceptance than the language in which the songs are sung (and yes, I grant that's an unusual observation for one to make of a latter-day Gaelic-language recording). Another aspect of the disc which I find intriguing rather than bothersome is the unexpectedly eclectic (some might think occasionally wayward) character of the instrumental backings on some of the songs; a significant majority of them are centred on the accordion, an instrument perhaps not commonly associated with Gaelic song accompaniment (Iain employs three different accordionists over the course of the CD), the first of the disc's two sprightly Puirt A Beul selections uses a melodeon (in addition to an accordion) along with flute, guitar and jew's harp, Togail Cùrs Air Leòdhas (a paean to the beauty of Ness) brings in the small pipes of Iain MacDonald, and the fun, tongue-in-cheek title track (which takes its tune from Buttons And Bows!) has a slightly gawky "homespun wedding-party scratch-band" feel with its dancing, prancing electric guitar, fiddle and drumkit. Allan Henderson's appealing, well moulded piano playing is also well to the fore on many of the songs, providing an ideally rich chordal complement to Iain's singing. Although I like every track, and appreciate the contrasts within the overall sequence, my favourite tracks occur toward the middle of the disc: Is Truagh Nach Robh Mi Còmhla Riut (a love song from Uist), with Mary Ann Kennedy adding her gorgeous voice to the mix, Mo Chailin Bheag Dhonn (another old-fashioned "courting" song with a melody very close to what I know as the Tiree Love Song), the beautifully simple love song Tha M'Eudail Is M'Àighear 's Mo Ghràdh, the lovely Gur Moch Rinn Mi Dùsgradh (describing the sights and sounds of early morning), and the elegant sadness of Tormad Moireach's lament (track 5) - the only song on the entire disc which Iain sings unaccompanied (I'd have liked to hear more). All these songs to my mind showcase the gloriously florid, soaring qualities of Iain's voice to best advantage. The final pair of tracks - a whaling song and a typical Lewis Puirt A Beul - were recorded live at a ceilidh in Fort William last year. I find the whole disc very satisfying indeed, and one which I've grown to love more with each successive playthrough.
David Kidman December 2006
Formerly of 80s Scottish mavericks and Kurt Cobain favourites The Vaselines, McKee' spent the intervening years variously teaching in Glasgow, recording an album under the name of Suckle and raising a family. Now she makes the move into solo territory with a rather fine debut collection of melancholic narcotic gothic folk that owes more to the Velvets than it does Nick Drake. However, despite the distorted psychedelic guitar noise and scraping violin that marks hypnotic opening track The Kindness of Strangers, the biggest influence here is probably Leonard Cohen, whose brooding presence not only haunts the sombre but melodic corners of tracks like The Country Song, Childish Memories, Limbo and Without Reason but, rather giving the game away, also provides the album's sole cover with You Know Who I Am.
However, where Len sounds like he's on a permanent downer, McKee sounds strangely serene, her world weary wispy voice as languid as it is brooding, the aural equivalent of trailing your fingers in the river as you float downstream. The approach does tend to lose its charms in the final stretch if you try soaking it all in at once, but sample it at leisure and you'll find there's much leafy magic to be revealed in those spare, cello enhanced arrangements and fine lyrical filaments.
Mike Davies, May 2006
Maria McKee - High Dive (Viewfinder)
A longtime absentee from the scene, McKee's spent the past seven years in Ireland and LA, getting wed, messing around in her home studio, starting her own label and walking the dogs. Now she's back with a new band and the long awaited follow-up to 1996's Life Is Sweet. Indeed, just to jog the memory, she's done a new, more tinklingly pop version of the title song that ably serves to show just how much her voice has grown in stature in the intervening years. And it was pretty damned sensational back then.
She's also been busy exploring different styles. The familiar country tinged roots rock she was making as far back as her days fronting Lone Justice is still evident on things like To The Open Spaces' hymn to the open road, In Your Constellation, Something Similar and the infectious Be My Joy (which also bears hints of the Velvets), but elsewhere she's given full sway to those Broadway/Bacharach/Sondheim inclinations on High Dive, No Gala, and From Our TV Teens To The Tomb. Love Doesn't Love even sounds like it could have wandered in from Les Mis.
And then you get the strident Non Religious Building on which she belts out "suicide, ever think of suicide" before the song builds to another musical theatre crescendo.
Sexy (We Pair Off),wistful (Worry Birds) and full bloodedly diva (After Life), it's an album that gets better the more you listen and forceful reminder of just what we've been missing in her time away.
Mike Davies
Lori McKenna - Bittertown (Signature Sounds)
Following her internet only third album, Kitchen Songs (named because she recorded them in her Massachusetts kitchen, presumably between cooking for the four kids), McKenna's found time to hang up the apron and get back in the studio for a fourth round of documenting the struggles and disillusions of small town lives for whom the future never proved as bright as high school promised.
Musically it's harder edged sound than her previous, folkier sets, electric guitar ringing clear on several tracks, accentuating the rasp frequently evident in her vocals as, drawing on the lives of friends, relatives and neighbours she sings of suicides (Bible Song), enduring love (One Man), the school geek turned rock star and the former bullies boasting how he's an old mate (Lone Star), laundry on the line (Silver Bus, a song about never leaving but knowing you could) and domestic abuse (Cowardly Lion).
There's honest sentiment and real romance in the likes of One Kiss Goodnight and If You Ask but nothing's sentimentalised or romanticised in her snapshots of a world of people trying to get by and make do.
Sometimes she'll paint in simple acoustic colours, Stealing Kisses or the piano based My Sweetheart for example, at others, like the chiming country pop of Monday Afternoon and the ambiguous feelgood Mr Sunshine or the percussion and lap steel driven jazz rhythms of Pour she'll pull in band arrangements to splash broader colours, but always keeping the brushstrokes firm and even. Like her blue collar studies, the emotion rings true, grit sprinkled with sugar making Bittertown a place both bitter and sweet, the ledge (as the song notes) from which you could fall if you didn't have another's love to keep you safe.
Mike Davies
Lori McKenna - Pieces of Me (Acoustic Roots)
Born in Massachusetts but sounding like she has the Deep South in her veins and vocal chords, 32 year old McKenna manages to fit a music career around raising four kids. Looking to find a part of life she could call her own, she began singing round the kitchen, graduating to parties and family get togethers before braving non partisan crowds in the local folk clubs. Audiences took to her songs about the highs and lows of family life and 1998 saw the release of her own label debut Paper Wings & Halo. Gathering a growing reputation on the New England singer-songwriter scene, three years later saw the arrival of this, her more widely distributed sophomore album.
With a nasal and adenoids twang reminiscent of Nanci Griffith with a touch of Alison Krauss, she sets the musical flavour and thematic concerns with the opening track, a ringing acoustic guitar folk country Mars, a song about her young son's dreams of flying to the planet that also sketches a portrait of comfortable domesticity with its image of the hole in the couch. With guests who include Richard Shindell and Jennifer Kimball on backing vocals and encompassing the blues and rock into her folk weave, she proceeds to sing of family, love, faith, life and death with an affecting open honesty. Never Die Young is dedicated to her mother who passed away when McKenna was just six, God Will Thank You is a song of everyday faith from the perspective of someone who should have died as a child, Pieces of Me, This Fire, the wonderful Fireflies and the simple voice and piano Deserving Song all mingling self-doubt and disappointment with a determination to survive in her own skin. And, just to show she sees a world beyond her house and home, she pours on the vocal bite and some reverb electric guitar for Pink Sweater, a song dedicated to James Byrd, a black man dragged to death at the back of a truck by Texan bigots.
We're a bit late catching up over here and McKenna already has a third album, The Kitchen Tapes, 10 songs recorded on mini-disc at her kitchen table, in the wings, but with the recent reissue of Paper Wings & Halo featuring extra tracks this seems a good time to start.
Mike Davies
The Paul McKenna Band is a fresh-sounding young outfit that has been in existence for three or four years now but only now has got round to releasing its debut CD, which no doubt will capitalise on its growing reputation and sparkling, engaging live act. In addition to singer/songwriter/guitarist Paul himself, the band consists of recent BBC Radio Scotland Young Traditional Musician Award finalist Ruairidh Macmillan (fiddle), Seán Gray (flute/whistle), David McNee (bouzouki) and Ewan Baird (bodhrán), and their trademark sound, robust and lively but not without its gentler overtones, is built around the simple yet warm combination of flute/whistle and fiddle sharing melody lines underpinned by driving guitar, bouzouki and bodhrán rhythms.
The disc's two instrumental sets build up a fine head of steam without toppling over into manic mode. However, since the majority of the band's repertoire is song-based, it's doubly fortunate that Paul himself is a singer of no mean stature, with a clear-toned, hauntingly expressive voice that dovetails extremely well with the instrumental lines, both on his own compositions or on traditional material (much of the latter, ingeniously, being set to Paul's own melodies). I'll admit that on early playthroughs I found the aforementioned "trademark sound" a little too unvaried over the course of a whole album, with proven arrangements consistently applied throughout; at first, the band arguably scores more highly on the variety within the material. Paul's own songs are pleasing and well-put-together, and while not always in the very top bracket as regards memorability they're a harbinger of forthcoming potential. The title track reflects its name, straddling the contemporary and traditional worlds as regards the band's approach to writing and performing, while Daylight is an attractive, considered reflection on life and the slightly enigmatic Dancing In The Dark has some of the pensive quality we associate with Dougie MacLean.
Generally, the covers are sensibly chosen to match Paul's vocal strengths, although he tends sometimes to steer too accessible a middle course, allowing the rhythmic element to influence his phrasing rather than necessarily trusting his own response: the result being a certain degree of homogeneity between individual songs, an impression of over-similarity that doesn't always fade with closer acquaintance with the internal subtleties of the settings. Minor points, however, when set against the promising nature of this debut release from this vibrant band.
David Kidman July 2009
Fiona's previous album for Greentrax (2007's Duan Nollaig) was a seasonal collection with a difference, and quite a groundbreaking one. Her latest venture, which is linked to 2009's Homecoming Scotland initiative, is arguably even more enterprising. Here Fiona presents a dozen songs of the "Emigrant Gael" (meaning those who had emigrated from Scotland over the past 300 years), performed in an attractive and accessible tradition-based style likely to appeal to new audiences as well as to folks more accustomed to the Gaelic tradition.
Fiona's wonderfully pure singing voice is to the fore, but she doesn't hog the limelight, affording other singers (Darren Maclean, Katie Mackenzie and Cathy Ann MacPhee) the chance to duet with Fiona or (in the case of Sineag Macintyre on the nostalgic South Uist anthem O Mo Dhùthaich) treat us to their own interpretation. And the arrangements, while undeniably smoothly contoured, possess a certain honest ruggedness and yet are very beautiful indeed while managing to genuinely stir and excite the listener and bring alive the emotions of the songs. The calibre of the supporting musicians, too, speaks for itself: Mary Ann Kennedy (clarsach), Fraser Fifield (whistle, pipes), Irvin Duguid (piano, harmonium), John Goldie and Anna Massie (guitars), Ed McFarlane (double bass), Ian Muir (accordion), Simone Welsh (fiddle) and the string quartet Mr. McFall's Chamber. The songs themselves range from older examples to more recently-composed ones, and from the comparatively well-known (Cuir Cùlaibh Ri Asainte, from Sutherland) to the unusual (Òran Chianalais, a homesickness-song written in Australia). Each song is memorable in its own right, but the opening Dùthaich MhicAoidh and especially Tha Thu Beò Nam Anamsa mark themselves out first time for an early replay. Fiona's fine rendition of the final song, Tilleadh An Eilthirich, is cleverly prefaced by a 1975 archive recording of its composer Archie Mackenzie (from Halifax, Nova Scotia), himself an emigrant (as is Cathy Ann MacPhee who duets with Fiona on this track).
As is usual with Greentrax releases, the accompanying booklet is first-class, with attractive design, full texts and credits, informative notes and well-reproduced photographs. Another significant artistic triumph for Fiona, and another richly textured feather in Greentrax's cap.
David Kidman September 2009
The third seasonal release in this year's mailbag is arguably the most specialist in appeal, although it still yields a small sackful of musical riches. Fiona's role is that of Gaelic Song Fellow for the Highland Council; she won the BBC Scotland Traditional Music Personality Of The Year award in 2004, with further nominations for other awards in subsequent years. Although this recording has been made in response to numerous requests she's received for material for Gaelic medium classes in Scottish schools to work with, Fiona's also managed to make it a perfectly listenable experience in its own right. The first of the two discs presents melodic carols and songs, with varying levels of accompaniment (though often centering around a keyboard or two); it contains Fiona's crystal-clear Gaelic-language renditions of both traditional and contemporary Scottish Gaelic Christmas songs and carols. Some, notably those with the more sparing accompaniment, are very beautiful indeed - I particularly liked Biodh An Trianaid Ga Moladh (Praised Be The Trinity) from Eriskay and Taladh Chriosda (both with James Graham harmonising), and New Year Song (on which Fiona is accompanied by just Katie Mackenzie's clarsach), also How Glorious The News (with Simone Welsh's lyrical fiddle backing), The Virgin Mary's Hymn from Barra and the various acappella items such as Great Christmas Night. Disc 2 comprises 17 short songs for children and young people, varying from hymns and ballads to a couple of fun items; some of these are given quite full musical settings, which can be stimulating (Christmas Song and He Is Coming, which sound a bit like rocked-up mouth music) or rather charming (the gently countryesque The Star and the jolly We Made A Snowman Today), although one or two are mildly glutinous. The full-blown rock arrangement given to the Eilidh Mackenzie Gaelic translation of Leonard Cohen's Halleluiah forms a decent finale to Disc 1, but I did find the arrangements given to pieces like Silent Night and In the Bleak Midwinter somewhat sickly by comparison. It's a pity that Karen Matheson's guest vocal expertise is wasted on one such piece out of her two contributions - however, the performances of other guest musicians, including John Goldie, Ed Mcfarlane, Hamish Napier and Gary Innes, redeem matters considerably, and quality is assured. There seem to be some uncharacteristic lapses in accuracy with the listed credits on the back of the booklet, however, which do rather undermine the admirable rationale of presenting such details. The majority of the settings are tasteful and musically credible, but there's sometimes a nagging feeling that perhaps Fiona is here trying just a little too hard to be all things to all men, so to speak, with this release, and as a result it neither completely satisfies the traditionalist who appreciates the starker approach nor the more commercially "friendly" listener used to the "TV Christmas", but Fiona's to be congratulated for her enterprise in presenting two whole discs of Christmas music sung in the Gaelic language, performed so vitally.
David Kidman December 2007
Trouble has 12 original songs and opens with The Girl, which has an industrial feel, some great riffs and an all encompassing sound. However, the guitar, albeit in short bursts, is the star. I Can Tell highlights McKeon's youthful voice and the song comes over as a bit poppy, but there is a harder core in there too. This may be a bit too middle of the road for some people's tastes. The eponymous title track is a grinding standard rocker with a big chorus and this chorus may just be enough to win you over, that's if McKeon's guitar doesn't. Scarecrow is the track of the album so far with acoustic influences all over and layer upon layer of sense provoking guitar. Written by Robbie McIntosh who also contributes slide and resonator guitar. Talk To Me, featuring John Mayer's vocalist David Ryan Harris, is an acoustic led rhythmic groover with a sing-along feel to it.
Broken Man has fuzzed guitar and echoed vocals wrapped up in some classy pop rock. All That We Were is a ballad which shows how good a song McKeon can write. This is as good as any in the genre and the big guitar solo sets it off well. Capture Me has a pounding drum beat and strong, throbbing guitar. So Much More has sultry acoustic vibes with Robbie McIntosh adding his weight on guitar. Added horns and organ on Giving Me The Blues makes for a soulful sound. What I've Become is another mid-paced rocker with heavy bass and a storming finish. Home is a low key finish but after a 20 second pause it drifts into an electric jam. Fully instrumental, it is a strange finish but a well played one nonetheless.
David Blue April 2010
This is young UK blues guitarist Scott McKeon's debut album and he could not have a better label than Provogue to nurture his burgeoning talent. The opener, Shot Down, shows that Scott McKeon is a rising star in the blues world and he's already been listed as one of the best 30 blues players in the world on Google. This is a raucous opener with hints of 60s R&B and supercharged guitar. Honey Baby is a classic 12 bar blues and ace guitarist McKeon really knows how to crank it up. The driving blues rock of I Used To Have Something allows him to rip it up on the solo and he grinds out another one with more guitar excellence on the eponymous title track.
All The Same is slower than most so far but its powerful Kansas stylings make it stand out in its own rite. The slashing guitar and pounding beat is fast becoming a trademark and this is highlighted on I Can See Through You. Last Thing I Do is a slow, choppy blues and finally, his voice comes into its own. The pronounced solo is effective and the whole thing builds to an ear-splitting crescendo, although my daughter, the music student, will tell me that it is not a crescendo but, in fact, something completely different. Cool Lookin' Woman is acoustic based blues rock and is sheer class with Jesse Davey guesting on the guitar solo. McKeon shows his grungier side with the grinding rock of Maybe. The sky is the limit for this guy and he just seems to lose himself in the music when he plays. He finishes with Fuzz Six Six Six and you can just stomp your way through this wonderful instrumental.
At the age of 21, Scott McKeon may have a long way to go but what a start this is to his journey.
www.scottmckeon.com
www.myspace.com/scottmckeon
David Blue March 2007
What can I tell you, I've been a sucker for the lesbian Massachusetts multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter ethnomusicologist since I first heard her sophomore album, Distillation, on its belated UK release a few years back. Since then, although I've yet to track down a copy of her debut or the even harder to find Live On KCRW EP and available at gigs only Small Deviant Things collection of early material, I've eagerly acquired every new album and never been disappointed.
Now released via Ani di Franco's label, this is her eighth release and, arguably, her best yet as, recorded independently without label pressures, it gathers her familiar cocktail of pop, folk, jazz, swing, cabaret and tin pan alley and stirs in some new playful, sly magic. I've had it on the car CD player for a month and everytime I hear it it sounds fresh and new nuances and novel little sonic quirks in Sam Kassirer's production reveal themselves.
To A Hammer opens with pizzicato strings and sounds a little like a classical gavotte as McKeown skips through an almost childlike love song lyric about devotion that ends on the wonderful like 'to a hammer everything is a nail'.
Percussion skittering like mice tap dancing, Santa Cruz is a buoyant pop song before the simple You Sailor heads into folk territory with seafaring imagery, a strumming acoustic guitar, woodwind and vibes. Another offkilter romantic lyric, the shuffling swishy Foxes has a slight cabaret vibe, a gorgeous sunkissed chorus and all manner of sonic colours adding to the good to be alive vibe.
Taking the mood to its polar opposite (Put The Fun Back In) The Funeral conjures the terror of being buried alive to, as the press release puts it, "a dark river of smothering murmurs and the hiss of subway grates". It's a mesmerising number, a slow bossa rhythm and a spidery vocal while the 'I can't breath' refrain is surely borrowed directly from Dido's, er, I Can't Breathe.
I could go on at length about the pleasures of each and every track, but in the interests of time and repetitive strain injury from scrolling down, let me just offer a few brief reader's notes.
Spinning a metaphor about homophobia, circus acrobat romance tale The Lions has a burlesque tango vibe. The edge of a break up All That Time You Missed is littered with scratchy sonic tics that scamper around the track like mischievous sprites. The Boats conjures a cobwebbed cloaked Hebrew lament to a pulsing bassline. The Rascal bubbles like a playschool clapalong baked with a crumb or two of Shortnin' Bread. 28 (first heard on the live Lafayette album) ebbs and flows on a pensive electronic pulse between which bookends piano and percussion soar to the skies, And, finally, a nakedly exposed Seamless calls time with a cracked musical box motif echoing the Harry Potter theme as, in a bittersweet fractured relationship sign off, she notes how imperceptibly fused are the extremes of 'apocalypse and bliss'.
Effortlessly earning a place among the albums of the year, it marks a magnificent end to her first decade as a recording artist and a tantalising taste of a truly exciting future.
www.erinmckeown.com
www.myspace.com/erinmckeown
Mike Davies November 2009
What's the point of being a ethnomusicologist if you can't take some time out to record an album of the sort of songs that have influenced your own mash of pop, folk, New Orleans jazz, blues and tin pan alley? Which is exactly what the Massachusetts born McKeown's done here. Reaching into her collection of favourite tunes from the 30s to the 50s, from Broadway to the silver screen, she kicks things off with a cover of seminal influence Judy Garland classic Get Happy and works her way through such jazzy evergreens as Paper Moon, Something's Gotta Give, Just One of Those Things and Coucou.
Being a purist, she's mercifully resisted doing a Rod and crushing the material with big brassy band arrangements, instead she keeps things simple and acoustic with brushed drums, upright bass, piano and the occasional clarinet or trumpet. She's played around with the arrangements too, giving Paper Moon a dub calypso click, turning Anita O'Day's 1941 big band nugget Thanks For The Boogie Ride into the sort of rockabilly knees up the title suggests while Just One Of Those Things is slowed down to a prowl, laced with electric organ.
The feel of 50s lounge bars, cocktail shakers behind the bar, comes across strong on Sing you Sinners and Rhode Island Is Famous For You, both sounding like they've just stepped straight out of some Garland musical soundtrack. There's a self-penned number in there too, but unless you happen to be conversant with the collected works of Porter, Mercer, Harling, and Arlen, it says much for her affinity for the era that you'd be hard put to readily identify it among the archive gems.
To be honest, the production does rather expose her voice, which it must be said lacks the beef of a Blossom Dearie or a Rosemary Clooney, but there's no denying this is a infectious fun for anyone who wants to cut an old fashioned rug or two.
Mike Davies November 2006
This warm-voiced (and equally warm-hearted) Canadian singer-songwriter made a big impression when he last toured the UK just a couple of years ago, and his return visit this autumn is prefaced by the release of a new CD. For those who are new to Dan's music, and have been won over by his charms but hitherto unable to purchase all of his previous five CDs, Just Another Day will provide an ideal opportunity to catch up, for it's a retrospective collection of sorts.
But - I'll point out at once - it's not a best-of set that's been hastily-cobbled to make a fast buck. Basically, the story is that after getting so much positive feedback about his 2005 album Fields Of Dreams And Glory, especially in respect of Paul Mills' sympathetic production, Dan decided to revisit some of his older songs in Paul's company, employing the FOD&G backing musicians (and additionally Cindy Church for some gorgeous backing vocals). So, among Just Another Day's 14 tracks we find two songs taken from Dan's 1995 CD Chasing Sunsets, four from 1997's Between Wind And Water, five from 2000's Songs From The Hearth and two from 2002's Minstrel In The Rain. The remaining pair of songs (The Man Of Her Dreams and the title track) are recent compositions, newly-recorded - and beautiful songs they are too. (Lest you now suspect my arithmetic, I must point out that one song, Sailmaker, has already "double-counted" by appearing separately on two of Dan's albums!) The assemblage of this new collection has been an important exercise in that it makes for a cohesive sequence of material that demonstrates of the sheer consistency and quality of Dan's writing over a span of nearly 20 years. These songs have neither lost their power to move, nor their enchantment: they concern events, people and matters that have continued to inspire Dan over the years, however jaded the passage of time has otherwise made things seem.
The CD's bookends - the magical title song and the closer Simple Things - sum up Dan's philosophy admirably. Between these, we're treated to some stirring narrative songs (The Captain And The Queen, Mystery Of Oak Island), powerful commentaries on lost ways of life (Sailmaker, When The Under-run Is Done), touching personal reminiscences (Remember Me, Back To You, This House), and even a modern shanty (Before the Day Is Done), done in multitracked acappella by Dan himself. These new versions are absolutely ideal, the accessible and genuinely concordant settings perfect for conveying the gentle beauty and humanity of Dan's writing and fully complementing his own singing and guitar. I've revisited the earlier recordings myself of late, and although none of those old records is below-par by any means, in all cases the new version is an improvement (albeit sometimes only marginal) in communicating the essence of the song. The mellower maturity, and yet more expressive quality, of Dan's own singing now makes the 1995 tracks in particular sound undercharacterised, and some of the earlier arrangements seem distractingly busy in inner detail. But the humour of Nova Scotia For Sale/Sold seems somehow better pointed in this latest, more jaunty rendition, and Change For The Better, though shorn of its attractive instrumental prelude, is more tellingly articulated on the new recording. This House is also much more tender vocally, and benefits from the fuller instrumentation on the new disc. And yet, while it's hard to recapture the rugged innocence of the BW&W version of Sailmaker, the new version has an altogether more wistful tinge, which is equally valid. So, even if you already have some (or maybe all) of Dan's earlier CDs, I certainly wouldn't hesitate in getting this new primer. And do catch Dan on his next UK tour, this autumn.
David Kidman August 2008
Winner of the Scots Traditional Music Award for Up and Coming Artist of the Year, 2007, Maeve's a striking young singer with a strong-toned but quite gorgeous voice, who sings with equal facility in both English and Gaelic on this her debut CD (even more amazing when you learn that she's not a native Gaelic speaker). Her vocal approach is well matched by an elegant, thoroughly contemporary musical backdrop courtesy of bassist and producer Duncan Lyall with colleagues Ali Hutton (guitar, pipes, whistle), Martin O'Neill (percussion) and Patsy Reid (fiddle, viola, cello) - a backdrop which in a fresh, direct and upfront manner enhances the drama in Maeve's vocal performances. Maeve's liner note dedicates the CD to "three gutsy, inspiring women", and those adjectives could well be used to define Maeve's own singing here; I particularly enjoyed her take on the waulking songs Ho Ro Hùg O Hùg O and Mac Iain 'ic Sheumais, although her way with ballads like The Cruel Brother, The Diver Boy and Silver Dagger (whence the CD's title comes) is also very persuasive, as is her spicy, episodic treatment of the puirt-a-beul strathspey-and-reel set (track 9). Perhaps the rear cover shot depicts Maeve a tad fearsomely though, for her version of The Wild Rover which closes the disc is wild only in the syncopated sense, and it makes jazzy capital out of the unusual melody she learnt from Mick West. With neat, tight yet supple arrangements the order of the day (I especially like Patsy's intensely powerful string contributions which offset Ali's clean and precise guitar figures and Martin's well-drilled kit drumming), every item on the disc is a winner, and it's a shame that it only runs to 40 minutes in total. With her supremely confident ability to communicate a song to her audience, and a clear-sighted vision of just where she intends to take the song, Maeve's certainly gonna be one to watch in the future.
David Kidman May 2008
Hammered-dulcimer virtuoso Mac (veteran of Cythara and Pressgang, and prodigy of Jim Couza) and melodeon legend Saul (Edward II, Whapweasel, Faustus, Waterson: Carthy) originally formed a duo 12 years ago while both were with Eliza Carthy's Kings Of Calicutt, but only now have got round to putting out a joint album. And they make a mighty sound indeed (a big sound for just two players, one might say) – the unusual instrumental combination producing a brilliant and rich-textured noise, both irresistibly punchy and resolutely clangorous. The duo's crackling technical proficiency provides a canny vehicle for their sense of abundant enjoyment in whatever they play, too, while the powerful (yet also mildly understated) nature of their characteristic and distinctive musical backdrop perfectly matches the bold confidence of the vocal work. Unusually for a debut album, the tracks originate from three points on a lengthy time continuum, with recordings made last year (around half of the total) sitting comfortably alongside "digital restorations" of tracks recorded back in 1996 and 1998 (and I'd challenge anyone to spot the difference in terms of artistic consistency or approach). Of the disc's ten tracks, seven are songs, all but two of these being derived from traditional sources. There's a truly infectious forward thrust, a proudly gutsy drive about the duo's renditions, with an almost urban-folk-like demeanour to tracks like The Lazy Farmer. Methinks perhaps their Bold Fisherman is a tad too brisk and choppy for to be "a-rowing with the tide", and I doubt anyone could cap Martin Carthy's renowned version of Devil And The Feathery Wife…. but there's no denying the excitement generated by the duo on this and other similarly vibrant interpretations - they do a splendid job here. Mark Colgan (Mac's father) brings his vocal chops to British Man O' War and Barbaree, also contributing the tune for the latter, while the two non-traditional songs on the disc are John Martyn's anti-war plea Don't You Go (poignantly sung by guest Teph Kay) and Mac's (partial) setting of Tennyson's epic poem Locksley Hall. The disc is completed by three contrasted instrumental tracks: a mixed set, a strathspey-and-hornpipe combo, and the uplifting, ostensibly programmatic Emily's Waltz (composed by Mac), the latter tune featuring the wondrously fulsome sonorities of the rarely-heard bass dulcimer. Mac and Saul (or should we call them Sand And Soil?) have produced an intelligently dynamic album that with its defiantly different sound really makes you sit up and take notice while at the same time imparting a high feelgood factor – something we sorely need in these depressing times!
www.www.myspace.com/maclainecolstonsaulrose
David Kidman March 2009
David Kidman December 2007
I find myself asking why Dougie's albums so seldom get reviewed in the music press, even the folk music press. Could it be because his readily identifiable style is so consistent, his writing so even-tempered and (again) consistent, that there's nothing new left for the reviewer to say? Point taken, I suppose... So what do I say about Inside The Thunder, except that it contains some very fine new songs, showing that Dougie's writing is every bit as strong and well-crafted as ever. And that his mellow, easy rollin' performing style is smooth and accommodating yet, as always with calm waters, that very smoothness belies its hidden depths and the ruffled undercurrents of the thoughts within. Well over half of the songs on this new ten-song collection would straightaway seem to earn the epithet of classic Dougie MacLean, and some are surely among his very best (and this is even when we bear in mind that, like any songwriter, not every song he writes can be expected to attain that status). The structuring of the lines (complete with their distinctive mantra-like refrains), the phrasing, the chord sequences, all those elements are quintessential Dougie, absolutely unmistakable, the songs could be no-one else's. Dougie's gentle and compassionate, yet often enigmatic expression of life's necessary philosophies carry echoes of his earlier œuvre, of course, and continue to develop similar themes, but there's still an open-heartedness, a freshness of vision and purpose, that makes his songs continually attractive. Song For Johnny (from the lyric of which the album takes its title) is another of those incredibly simple but powerful songs stemming from mere snippets of reminiscence, a type of song that Dougie does so very well. Seventh Sea (one of two songs to feature just Dougie and his rippling guitar) is superb, and possibly the most archetypal Dougie of all the songs here. There's abundant beauty in the poetry of the stately, cryptic Into The Flames, and also in the less guarded optimism of Home; perhaps this latter song is just a tad over-scored in terms of insistence on rhythm, but generally the arrangements are kept fairly simple and undistracting, with a soft-textured rhythm section underlying the gently luscious acoustic-electric blend (and thankfully no over-use of washy keyboards). String textures are sensitively handled for Open Fields, and the more brittle tones of the electric guitar are kept well in check when used. I'm not convinced, though, of the need to add the sound of a vintage tractor to the otherwise perfectly evocative Strathmore. That isolated instance aside, the arrangements – courtesy of Jamie MacLean and including some fine playing from Greg Lawson, Gordon Duncan, Ali Ferguson, Chris Agnew and Dougie and Jamie themselves, are an epitome of taste and restraint. Though tempos are laid-back and easy on the ear and the mood is softly pensive throughout, Dougie's music invariably demands - and repays - your concentration, even if you think you've heard it all before. Inside The Thunder is another subtle masterpiece.
David Kidman February 2007
Whoa there, here's another of those hitherto-well-kept-secret female singer-songwriters from across the pond... How I've not come across Linda before is another of life's imponderables – she released an album on Rounder (Betty's Room) a while back, on the strength of which critics dubbed her "a rough-hewn Lucinda Williams", which on the evidence of No Language ain't such a bad tag, certainly as far as her songwriting's concerned. I'm not sure Linda's got quite the same kind of distinctive tonal quality in her vocal chops (yet), but she's heading that way - that's for certain. Her performance is every bit as vibrant, and she knows exactly how to ensnare a listener with a lyrical or melodic hook: in that respect just about every one of the dozen songs on No Language scores an immediate bullseye. The (deceptively) bouncy opener Love Nor Money sets out Linda's stall with some "right-on" universal commentary on modern-day values, after which the focus shifts to the personal for the storming, jangling rock of How Strong Is Your Sorrow, and stays right there even through moments of more politically-inclined contemplation (the plaintive mid-tempo Calling) and confident life-philosophy (What I'm After), and even the poignant heartbreak of the sad rocker All Around (which turns out to be the first song Linda ever wrote!). Linda's writing has a deep sense of awareness of the way our existence can be altered irrevocably by one moment of choice, a realisation summarised by the haunting Lives Change. Almost Alien embodies that seductive combination of feistiness and tenderness I associate with Chrissie Hynde. Even though there's a more than sufficient quotient of drive and guts in the more uptempo of the songs, I do find myself replaying some of the quieter, more considered moments more often. The closing Burn The Boats and the beautifully evocative Amsterdam Canals are particular highlights, and the expressive range of Linda's voice on these cuts is quite stunning, moving from powerhouse grit to soaring yearning and intense vulnerability, often within the same song (the title track being a really good example). Finally, some credit for the great sound of this record must go to the rest of Linda's crew, with production (and some of the music) by partner Andy (who plays guitars throughout) and fine keyboard work and rhythm section (John Whynot, Gary Craig and Maury Lafoy respectively). Keep an eye on Linda - she's gonna be big I reckon.
www.myspace.com/lindamcleans
www.lindamclean.com
David Kidman June 2007
As the hooky riffs and catchy melodies of Love Nor Money introduce Canadian Linda Mclean's second album, No Language, all seems perfectly clear. The country rock supplied by her husband Andy, dovetails neatly with a slightly toussled and defiant voice to produce the kind of songs which will make her the darling of a more mature (i.e. older) audience. And, while female country rock is a crowded market, No Language is robust enough to make its own way in the world. But Canada appears to concentrate on quality rather than quantity where its musicians are concerned and their music is never quite as straightforward as that of their American cousins. So while Linda McLean can mix it with the best, radio friendly rock is just one facet in the diamond of a major talent.
On No Language she sits comfortably alongside the likes of Lucinda Williams and Sarah Harmer, she's the kind of musician for whom the song not the genre dictates the direction. There is an unsettling edge and slightly off the wall quality to Linda McLean, as a listener you're never quite sure what's around the corner. With the haunting call of Where Are You and the rootsier Clouds And Rain, Linda McLean falls through the cracks of easy labelling. She excites without being theatrical, she intrigues without being enigmatic. As the story of All Around unfolds, you feel the need to know as much about its author as you do about the song.
No Language is built on a foundation of intelligent maturity, Linda McLean mines the songs from the seam of her own experience. The beauty of her life in the forests of Canada, bestows an emotional calm to the depths of Almost Alien. While Linda Mclean will justifiably find herself bracketed alongside the very best of today's original thinking singer-songwriters, she has a unique quality that causes you to doubt simple labels.
No Language is an example of how complete an album can be, when it's left to the tender mercies of the likes of Linda McLean.
Michael Mee, Editor Hawick News, October 2006
The daughter of Gene MacLellan who wrote for, among others, Elvis, Baez and Bing Crosby, this is the Canadian's fourth album and sits comfortably on the easy on the ear country rock racks without tottering into conveyor belt Nashville but also lacking the edge that would sell it to more hardline Americana fans.
That said, she has a clear pure voice that, at times evokes the younger Emmylou and at others, as for example on the anti-war Keep On Fighting calls to mind the early work of Joni Mitchell. Recorded in a secluded rural cabin, the setting's reflected in the album's uncluttered acoustic arrangements and downhome atmosphere while her songs balance the romantic heartaches of numbers like Stealin', Trickle Down Rain, Now And Then, and Same Way Again with many that, like the piano based Chop That Wood, Sparrows and especially Lines On The Road that are haunted by the death of someone close.
Made famous by Anne Murray, her dad's biggest hit was Songbird and she pays tribute here with a gentle, rippling simple version featuring pedal steel and backing vocals by Blue Rodeo's Jim Cuddy. It's no life changer, but there are far worse ways to soundtrack an evening nursing a bottle of wine.
Mike Davies September 2011
Which, accommodatingly, she offers by including a trimmed down reissue of her mail-order only and slightly more bluesy 2004 debut, Dark Dream Midnight, as a bonus second disc.
www.myspace.com/catherinemaclellan
Mike Davies May 2009
New Zealand-born Jamie is what one might best call a consummate young musician; his main instrument is fiddle, but he's also quite a virtuoso on whistle, guitar and mandolin (all of which he evidently also keeps in that there transit!).
For the past few years, he's become best known for his integral role in the touring and recording partnership with award-winner Emily Smith, but his CV goes back much further than that. In 1998, back in NZ, Jamie formed his first band, The Last Drop, with Gerry Paul, Andy Laking and Alan Doherty, but when Jamie subsequently moved to Scotland the others moved to Ireland and formed the mighty Gráda. For the past ten years, as well as becoming a fixture on the Glasgow session scene, Jamie's been touring the world with a variety of lineups (not just traditional outfits), and his energetically eclectic musical predilections are accurately reflected in the 20 or so self-penned tunes that variously conjoin to form the twelve tracks on this, his debut solo CD.
It's typical of the regard in which Jamie's held by his fellow-musicians that he's persuaded his former Last Drop colleagues Gerry and Alan to play on In Transit, along with double bassist Duncan Lyall and drummer Fraser Stone; in addition, Adelaide Carlow (cello) contributes to one track (Shannon's), and Emily Smith plays piano on the Vivienne's Jig set, while Andrew Collins brings a neat touch of bluegrass mandolin to both the latter set and the album's opening track.
The whole affair has a splendidly organic feel, with a litheness to the arrangements that's most refreshing. Over the course of the first few tracks alone, Jamie's own musicianship proves spellbinding; his playing displays an engaging combination of the nifty and the soulful, and he achieves more tonal contrast in just 15 minutes than some musicians get to achieve in a whole album. But he's also fortunate in surrounding himself with supremely sympathetic collaborators: Emily's Wee Tune is the first of many examples that utilises Gerry's skilled but gentle electric guitar styling (at the service of the tune rather than parading the effect for its own end), whereas Alan's vital yet relaxed and assured flute work on Little Red ably complements the contours of Jamie's fiddle playing and the nuances of Gerry's wah-wah pedal.
Throughout, Duncan and Fraser's rhythm section keeps a delicious spring in its step to match Jamie's own playful sprightliness. And the more reposeful moments are well managed too, notably the delicately attractive motifs of Crichope Linn/The Painted Lady, whereas the execution of Jamie's multitracked solo showcase (Road To Bennan) displays commendable sensitivity and understatement while retaining the essential fire in his playing (on all three of his instruments). The whole album sparkles with the joy of musicians who really understand and respond to each other but don't feel the need to dazzle with instrumental pyrotechnics to draw a listening audience into their music; perhaps my favourite cuts are the Rainbow Sheep set and the twin-whistle attack of Fun With Colin, but every track is persuasive in its own way with much detail to savour amidst the onward momentum of the tunes themselves.
The only thing missing from this CD is a modicum of descriptive or background notes to the tunes (there's just the tracklisting and instrumental credits) - but hey, does this really matter, I ask myself, when the playing is so vital and the arrangements so appealing and varied. As purely instrumental albums go, In Transit is definitely in the winner category, and (unlike some instrumental albums) it's a record that you can listen through from start to finish without becoming bored.
David Kidman April 2010
Edinburgh-born (now Yorkshire-based) Ewan may be a fairly new kid on the block, but his exceedingly confident debut CD is remarkably impressive. Ewan displays not only a totally credible immediacy in his delivery, a disarmingly accessible way with (mostly trad) songs and tunes, but also a hell of a talent for original composition that's definitively within the tradition. His vocal style is a strong, determined and distinctive vibrato-rich burr that clearly derives from early Dick Gaughan, whereas his fluid guitar playing is, audibly, directly inspired by that of his tutor and mentor Martin Simpson.
Nevertheless (and perhaps against the odds), Ewan possesses a strikingly individual presence as a song-carrier; his crisp, fresh and passionate personal interpretations of As I Roved Out and MacColl's Old Man's Tale and Jamie Foyers (to namecheck but three) are up there with the best on record. And, notwithstanding the skilful embellishments from either Peter Tickell or Jackie Oates on just a handful (five) of the disc's 14 tracks, "less" (ie. Ewan in the shape of solo performer) can still very persuasively count for "more" in terms of impact.
The intensity and commitment of Ewan to his chosen material is palpable, and is reflected in his own compositions, especially the astoundingly percipient Yorkshire Regiment; I do hope that Ewan can be persuaded to include more of his own work on album number two. Whatever, Rags And Robes can be viewed as a truly magnificent debut.
David Kidman October 2010
Heather Macleod - Crossing Tides (Leod Music)
Heather's a Scottish singer-songwriter with a strong voice and a compelling line in rootsy Celtic pop. Crossing Tides, her debut album, is tremendously accomplished, and exudes an aura of smouldering finesse within which the individual timbre of her own versatile vocal identity is the dominant flavour. Heather's soaringly seductive singing owes as much (if not more) to Beth Gibbons or Annie Lennox, or even more intimate jazz stylings, as to the Gaelic song of her childhood (she grew up on the Isle Of Lewis). Her own songs, which comprise all but two of the CD's ten tracks, are clothed in a dark and highly potent intimacy, yet are also bold and confident (a juxtaposition which her photographic portraits in the booklet reflect). Many of her word-pictures are built around a subtle yet insistent rhythmic pulse which embodies a kind of ebb and flow that mirrors the tides of the album's title, but I wouldn't stress this over and above – or at the expense of – the free-flowing character of the album's music as a whole. Much of this is imparted by the rich musical settings Heather has chosen for her songs, capitalising on the instrumental talents of Steven Polwart, Donald Hay, Paul Harrison, Stuart Ritchie, Marcus Britton and Donald MacDougall, augmented but occasionally by Sugar Blue on "scorching" blues harmonica, a four-piece string ensemble, and – last but definitely not least – Heather's own chosen "dream collaborator", that celebrated bassist Danny Thompson. The album's many moods all add up to a work that my choice of descriptive adjectives might make it appear contradictory, but you have to hear it yourself to catch what I mean; it's cool yet burning, dreamy yet vivid, etched yet fluid, drifting yet controlled. The only track that doesn't do much for me, disrupting the flow a bit just over halfway through, is the tongue-in-cheek jazzy Man Of Many Valentines (idiomatic and well realised though it is on its own terms, it doesn't seem to fit with the rest). After which, Heather turns in a hypnotic rendition of Richard Thompson's Baby She Don't Know What To Do With Herself and follows it with three standout cuts (the steamily evocative Red Mist, the Zeppelin-3-esque eastern-modal Home Strait and the compelling closer Weightless). Now if Karine Polwart can scoop all those awards with a similarly mature and well-judged product, then why not Heather too, for Crossing Tides is an exceptional debut release and no mistake.
David Kidman
David Kidman
Susan McKeown - Sweet Liberty (World Village)
David Kidman
Tina and Matt have been performing as a duo since late 2007, gradually building up an appealing live set from material both traditional and contemporary which is drawn from two different strands - their Irish musical backgrounds and Tina's own songwriting. Tina grew up in a strong family singing tradition, and her speciality is her intimate and compelling vocal delivery, whereas Matt, a recording engineer by trade, has a wide skill-base that includes considerable instrumental prowess (guitar, bass, mandolin, bodhrán, low whistle). Their individual talents prove well matched, and there's a sense of real complementary music-making in their work together.
While this CD (recorded in 2008) does, however, sound very different to the duo's live act, since it is for the most part a consciously studio-produced artefact, it also manages to display their live strengths very capably. Tina's superb singing voice is a prominent feature, and the CD includes two unaccompanied tracks, notably the seven-minute showpiece Máirín De Barra (sung here in Brian O'Rourke's English translation). And Tina's own composition Camden, a bittersweet reminiscence couched in a simple pop-folk setting with a memorable melody-line, turns out to be another of the disc's highlights. Tina also adds some instrumental colour with piano accordion and melodica from time to time.
As for Matt, his easy versatility, his adeptness in moving between different instruments and his attractive singing voice, are all qualities which are given due emphasis here without any feeling of undue overstatement. Matt also contributes an original song of his own: The Time Has Come, a gentle if mildly cautious slice of lilting electric-folk. Matt's stock-in-trade, his gift for programming, really comes to the fore on just over half of the tracks, with percussive and other effects both imaginatively applied and not overindulged; May Morning Dew and the mantric Níl S'én Lá perhaps provide the best (and most sensitive) examples of Matt's keen ear for instrumental timbres and textural arrangement. And here in the studio environment, Matt also wears his wider roots background and inspirations on his sleeve by shamelessly layering reggae and dance influences, as on an extended dub treatment of Star Of The County Down and a "dance mix" of Máirín De Barra. The latter, in being placed first in the running order, may not at first appear an obvious choice for lead track (and it does meander a touch), but the rationale becomes clearer as the disc progresses towards Tina's unaccompanied rendition that forms its final bookend.
If I'm completely honest, I'm still not entirely convinced that the disc quite hangs together as an entity, even though I do get the feeling that a lot of thought has gone into the sequencing and planning of the disc. And notwithstanding the bargain price at which this disc retails, the presentation of the package is a touch too basic, with no notes on the songs. It could be the case too, that Matt's eager embracing of his various influences lends some of the final product overmuch of an experimental air for the more traditionally-inclined folk fans or those who've been charmed by the duo's live act; it doesn't cause me a problem personally, but I think prospective purchasers need to be aware of this aspect.
www.myspace.com/tinamckevittmatthegarty
David Kidman March 2010
David Kidman October 2007
This superbly-executed and finely-recorded album represents a journey through time from the 17th century to the present, in the company of the gifted exponent of the Scottish lute and cittern Rob MacKillop. Rob's dedication to his researches into early manuscripts has already borne one fruit, the CD Flowers Of The Forest (1998), but Rob's deep interest rises above the driness and dustiness that sometimes accompanies a purely academic approach, for his expert playing, while intimate, retains one's interest through a winning combination of feeling, precision and energy.
The Healing is an apt title, for this is a soothing collection indeed, guaranteed to heal any aural discomforts, yet like the healing process it is also very stimulating! It begins with a series of short pieces for the Scottish 12-course lute, then moves on to seven pieces for diatonic cittern from the Robert Edwards Commonplace Book of the very end of the 17th century, many of which reveal an appealingly haunting quality of sensitivity not normally associated with music written for the cittern, and ending with two curiously strident, almost old-timey-sounding tunes. Then follows an undated setting of the Lowlands Of Holland, and a series of pieces for the mandour (a small mandolin-like lute) on which Rob's backed by the distinctive "skirling flamenco" style of rhythm guitarist Steve "Rattlesnake" Player.
The album then moves into modern times with arrangements of two grand compositions by Border piper Matt Seattle (it's interesting, too, comparing this new version of Port Joan Morrison with Matt's own with string quartet on his Border Sessions CD). These are followed by a recitation by poet James Robertson of his poem Nine (a deeply-felt response to the hanging of nine activists by the Nigerian government) to Rob's imaginative commentary on the oud, and the album concludes with a pibroch of Rob's own, during the course of whose 8½-minutes Rob sets out to (in his own words) "explore the hidden sounds of the lute… to find the invisible musical ley-lines which are timeless and which bind us" - and sure enough, the sounds Rob coaxes out of his chosen instrument are truly extraordinary here. What a fine way to end this intelligently realised, totally beguiling and abundantly satisfying CD.
David Kidman
The average fan of English folk music (at any rate, as represented by the mainstream media) will very probably not have heard of Tynesiders Danny and Joyce, although they're both excellent singers and they've been heavily involved in the north-eastern folk scene and highly regarded as performers and organisers for many years. Danny has sung with the Keelers and Pinch o' Salt, then subsequently with Joyce alongside Barrie and Ingrid Temple in the four-piece harmony group Salt Of The Earth, finally on that group's demise launching out as a performing duo in their own right. Wisely, they've spent the intervening years in accumulating and road-testing a distinctive repertoire largely unique to themselves, comprising what they term "songs to last forever" (the CD's subtitle).
I'm glad to see that these embrace no less than six fine examples of settings of Cicely Fox Smith's maritime verse; here it's mostly Danny at the vocal helm, reflecting his lifelong interest in, instinctive feeling for and deep understanding of the stirring and highly evocative work of that underappreciated poet. There's also a neatly-managed triptych on the subject of whaling, kicking off with Jonty Davis' chilling depiction of the brutality of that trade set to a perversely catchy chorus (Try Boys Try) and ending with Joyce's compelling solo rendering of Harry Robertson's Whaling Wife, with Danny's sensibly-paced version of Greenland Whale Fishery as its centrepiece. Elsewhere, Joyce takes the lead on Roy Harris's simple but harrowing Millworkers' Children and turns in a lovely solo performance of John Gay's beautiful love song Black-eyed Susan.
The bulk of the remainder of the collection is unashamedly traditional – a not-often-heard version of John Barleycorn is well complemented by that increasingly celebrated, if perhaps uncharacteristically jovial, drinking song by Graeme Miles Merry Little Hop (here, as on a handful of other tracks, Joyce and Danny are augmented by the superb ONT "house chorus" of Dave Webber, Anni Fentiman and Johnny Collins). Joyce's "bubbly" version of the Sandgate Girl's Lamentation is a delight, while special mention must go to an exceptional Waters Of Tyne towards the end of the CD, on which Joyce's daughter Donna is given the chance to sing lead with Joyce providing delectable supporting harmonies. Aside from Dave Webber's concertina (on one track), all the songs are performed unaccompanied, but the colours of the individual voices and their variety in expression provide more than enough to delight the ear and should "give you a clue" to the high level of accomplishment on display here. And so the CD's title proves cannily accurate in its depiction of a harmonious and well-produced collaboration between two fine voices.
David Kidman
Recorded in MacLeod's favourite European city, The Utrecht Sessions sees a consummate songwriter in his prime. Despite the Scottish name, MacLeod is an American, born and bred, although he now spends a lot of time in Holland where he has mastered one word - Heineken. The album was recorded in such a way that it feels live and MacLeod is in his element.
The opener, Horse With No Rider, has top class slide guitar and is an authentic blues in every way. It is very contemporary and he is in good voice. He stays with dobro and slide for This Old River which has an emotion laden vocal – this is what it is all about. MacLeod builds on this with The Addiction To Blues, which is more upbeat and shows a true troubadour. The Long Black Train is a familiar subject matter for blues and country artists and he gets the effect of the shuffling train to a tee - very clean sound. The Demon's Moan has another wailing vocal and the slide is, as it is throughout, top class. Long Time Road is bouncy and energetic with a very familiar sound.
I Respectfully Decline is soulful and mourning with a simple execution which hides the mastery of his instrument. He is a man confident in his own talent and this Americana is how music should be. That Ain't Right is a country blues with great finger picking, Coming Your Brand New Day is gentle rhythmic blues and Sheep Of A Different Color is a slow John Lee Hooker style blues. What You Got (Ain't Necessarily What You Own) keeps up the standard although he does lose it a bit on some of the guitar breaks. Where You'll Find Me is just one man and his guitar - lovely Americana. The enclosed booklet gives little insights such as the guitar tuning for each song and some musings from MacLeod. For a true live experience you can also buy his DVD - The Blues In Me.
David Blue August 2008
Smart and vibrant singer-songwriter Kate has shifted the focus a little for this, her third album release (it follows on the two she made for her mentor Andrew Calhoun's excellent Waterbug label, Trying To Get It Right and Constant Emotion, released in 1995 and 1997 respectively). On Feel The Earth Spin, Kate's avowed intent was to make a recording in response to those who said they like to hear her sing her songs all by herself, just like in the kitchen. I wouldn't take that as a criticism that her earlier albums were in any way over-produced, for they proved creditable examples of sensitively-accompanied singer-songwriter product. Feel The Earth Spin is thus a commendably honest record, atmospheric and uncomplicated, with Kate playing guitars (acoustic and occasional electric) and a little violin and harmonica backup; at the time of writing her own liner note, Kate was unsure what to think of it, but it seems to capture the essence of Kate's writing on a well-planned sequence of songs that includes just one non-original (Mary McCaslin's Way Out West). Strong and inspired it is too, as evidenced by The Annual Menhaden, a latter-day paean to the east-coast fishing community harvesting the small fry, and the poignant poeticality of My Baby Leaving and Shadow Changes; then the curious melodic sweep and emotional ambivalence of Cliffhanger might appear to carry resonances of Richard Thompson. Well, maybe at times there's also a slightly elusive quality to her lyrics, despite their basic immediacy and their attractive economy of expression. Perhaps, too, her songs are best viewed as snapshots rather than linear narratives - like these no-frills recordings in fact. Kate's delivery is really entrancing - her wispy phrasing and ethereal tone is pitched just right for the material. By any standards, Kate should count this release a success.
David Kidman
What is it about this guy? He defies any meaningful description (folk, indie, country, soul, world, chansonnier, all of them at once but that's never the whole story), and he's totally brilliant at everything he does. He's The Compleat Entertainer, period. He's a true freewheeling free spirit, but generous to the last in sharing his lanky chirpiness and sheer good vibes with everyone who comes anywhere within his orbit. He's like the friendly busker who captivates you with his talent and presence, but he's also just like your best mate.
A typical Rory McLeod performance is overwhelming in the nicest possible way, with expert musicianship setting the seal on a veritable torrent of intelligent wordplay that always has something important to say without preaching, or else he's got an absorbing (or plain tall) story to tell that believe me, you're going to want to hear. Rory's is a personality that fair overflows with the life-force itself, a supreme positive-energy that you can't resist getting caught up in. It can be almost too much to take in. For all of these features spill uncontrollably out of the player at once, to enhance your life, the moment this disc is played.
Over the course of 76 glorious minutes we're privileged to receive 17 new original songs (and one instrumental): every single one of these catchy and musically accessible and unreservedly well-crafted, yet at the same time consistently persuasive and edgy with a depth to the lyrics that belies the apparent facility of Rory's delivery. Home truths and unpalatable social or personal issues are shamelessly explored, but with the accessible face of reality and entirely devoid of the self-conscious over-involved navel-gazing that's forever associated with the singer-songwriter tag. The all-too-real trials and tribulations of love in its many guises are the focus of several songs here: the familiarity that breeds content, those insatiable illicit-affair scenarios, those innocent romances and fantasies and three-sided relationships (Forever Til Monday, My Better Half, Old Flame, I'm Married). These are serious topics that cause real problems, yet as a true songmaker Rory's proved himself a past master at conveying these with a lightness of touch that invariably makes their impact so much more poignant.
Somehow Rory manages to pull off the trick of making the universality of situation he depicts through unfussy everyday language carry resonances that may well be deeply personal to each one of his listeners. Rory's real concern for humanity is never far from the surface, and he can paint a sympathetic portrait of one of life's misfits (I Just Want To Be Loved) as capably as he can perceptively examine his own, or our own, foibles and preoccupations and how they might (and do) relate to others. And he's believable even when he adopts the persona of a fourteen-year-old unmarried mother(When You Were Born). For even the most ostensibly self-confessional or therapeutic of the songs on this latest disc (which is Rory's ninth) are done in a way that well sidesteps self-pity.
A considerable number of these new songs are in fact seriously touching, from the simple and charming credo I Play to the anguished Moment Of Weakness and the gently heartbreaking Your Mummy And I (which itself arose out of an idea in a half-forgotten Loudon Wainwright song). The extended stream-of-consciousness litany of defiance that is I'm Not Ready To Die (a song that's effectively constructed around a heartbeat) is perhaps a victim of its own enthusiasm, but to his credit Rory retains that all-important sense of humour with some priceless turns of phrase to lighten a central thesis that might easily have become mawkish. Musical backings are always interestingly conceived yet remain the right side of undistracting - here, the distinctive colourings of pedal steel (BJ Cole), clarinet, assorted string-harps, vibes, cello, violin, mandolin and sax, together with occasional rhythm section, ably and creatively embellish Rory's own irrepressible prowess on guitar, harmonica, tap-dancing and everything percussive the largest possible kitchen sink might contain (the breathlessly inventive instrumental Lassoing The Bees fairly buzzes with ideas!). While the package and presentation also gives great value-for-money with full lyrics and credits and notes.
As Rory himself says: "I don't want to sing these songs to make people sad and miserable but more because I want to take the sadness out of people". And you emerge from hearing this album infused with that very life-force and spirit and somehow you feel better about yourself.
David Kidman April 2010
We've waited far too long for a new album from this maverick iconoclast of a performer, but this fulsome showcase is no disappointment in any respect. Setting off listening to it, well it's just like going to see him live - you don't quite know what to expect, other than that you'll be entertained big-time: stunned into heady silence by his full-on friendliness and innate instrumental virtuosity and his eclectic mastery of every musical idiom in the world (and several others besides, no doubt!), and by turns enchanted, provoked and delighted by his ultra-creative lyrics. Brave Faces also reflects Rory's live act in the sense that the guy's virtually unstoppable - you get the feeling that if a CD wasn't physically limited to 79 minutes there would be loads more music here. He shows no sign of running out of steam or ideas or energy even after 78 minutes! And that would be considered great value, whatever the standard of the music, but you've no worries on that count either, for these 19 tracks represent Rory at his most persuasive. 12 of these are brand new own-compositions, stylistically unpredictable as always but containing such invariably brilliantly characterised storytelling and thus absolutely typical of Rory's art. But even though Rory's previous record releases have always provided a more than satisfying memento of his live act there have been occasional longueurs and moments which haven't always translated to the harsher recorded medium. Brave Faces, however, succeeds entirely and keeps one's interest throughout with its dazzling parade of ideas and sounds.
The new songs are tremendously strong, almost too powerful to cope with on first hearing or even second. They make well-observed statements without ever preaching - Rory is able to convey depth of feeling and highly-charged views without oppressing your brain! - just take a listen to the jaunty calypso-backed A Cut In Pay, or the caustic irony of Cold Blow These Winter Winds couched in a deceptively gentle whimsy, or .the heavily-accented "alienation tango" of No More Blood For Oil. Two opposite poles of intimacy are provided by the potent global concerns of Thirsting For War and the beautifully intimate and affectionate Doing Time Together (the latter one of a handful of tracks featuring the gorgeous Aimee Leonard, here on both vocals and bodhrán - otherwise this is very much a Rory McLeod solo tour-de-force that transcends any casual novelty value).
Several of the songs last longer than 5 minutes, but not so you'd ever notice for not a word or chord is wasted or superfluous. And another thing I constantly find unbelievable (that is, when I take a breather to think about it!) is that however desperate or depressing the subject matter, ideas and/or lyrics, Rory's music is always fun to listen to, and full of interesting and unusual textures. He's clever but not clever-clever, if you hear what I mean, for he's got the skill of communicating immediately and acutely with his audience, you're gently compelled to listen just like you would to a good mate.
Rory's truly unique: a creative minefield, against whom a hell of a lot of other self-styled singer-songwriters can so easily seem one-dimensional. And that creativity extends right out into the cover versions (there's five here, and two purely instrumental tracks too): two of the highlights on this set are acappella treatments - the traditional Oh Death is given a chillingly wayward reading, whereas The Glory Of Love (never a favourite song for me) wins me over completely by being superbly inventive, fresh and Fun. Then there's the old Elvis number Guitar Man, which has Rory's tap-dancing bottleneck in full flight, while I don't think Hank Williams' Rambling Man has received a better cover. On the closing track, The Man Who Couldn't Say Goodbye, Rory may be obviously playing for laughs but it's also a perfect, larger-than-life re-creation of the man, his personality, his ultimate irrepressibility (the image persists of Rory lifting up the coffin lid with a cheeky "Hello"!)…. Brilliant, and definitely Rory's best yet; if this don't convince you the man's a major talent then nothing will!
David Kidman
The idea of The Maker's Mark was conceived at a guitarists' gathering (2007 Swannanoa) where Tony met a man who arrived each day with a different, equally top-of-the-range instrument; he turned out to be Paul Heumiller, owner of the Dream Guitars dealership. The front cover of this release thus gives almost as much prominence to the makers of the various instruments (14 different ones in all) that premier acoustic fingerstyle guitarist Tony plays during the course of its 15 well-contrasted tracks. Each guitar is lovingly described and pictured within the lavish accompanying booklet (Greentrax's benchmark high standard), providing copious detail of its finer technical points for the benefit of the guitar specialists.
But non-practising-guitarist listeners will still be able to appreciate this wonderful 54-minute disc, for it forms a benchmark of musicality too, imparting a genuinely beautiful listening experience that will greatly satisfy repeated programming. If you don't want to take it in the allotted sequence, then why not start with the breathtaking jig-and-reel medley The Rolling Waves/Martin Wynne's, where Tony brings a stunning flight of frolicksome fingerwork-fancy to these staple Irish session tunes. Or his superbly deft yet sonorous transcription, for baritone guitar, of the South African anthem N'Kosi Sikelele Afrika. Or his limpid yet passionate rendition of the grand slow air Slaibh Na bHan. Or his excursion onto sitar-guitar for the genially spicy Doïna/Parov's Daichevo medley. Tony also performs other music not necessarily associated with the guitar, from a Monteverdi madrigal to a Scott Skinner strathspey and a Quebecois reel (both written for the fiddle), but over half of the disc is devoted to the Celtic side of his massive repertoire, which proves no bad thing as it's impossible to get bored with these scintillating performances. For Tony continually astounds with his intricate (ie tasteful rather than flash for its own sake) picking, and the recording is nothing short of miraculous in bringing out the myriad of nuances in his fingerwork. He's also partial to having fun too, on the disc's splendid finale where he multitracks all of the guitars to make a veritable orchestra for André Marchand's Valse Des Bélugas. This has got to be one of the most enjoyable (and accessible) solo-guitar albums to have been produced of late.
David Kidman June 2009
The Meat Purveyors - Pain By Numbers (Bloodshot)
Attention all veggies! Austin's finest alt-bluegrass punks serve up another helping (their fourth full-length album) of their high-octane attitude-rich music. TMP bring the energy back to bluegrass, but there's much more to their craft than that, for it's not just a quick-fire dash to the finishing post for instrumental technicians, they harness a full-throttle punk sensibility to their reckless precision in order to revitalise a genre that can so often relapse into tired cliché. They respect their roots, yet relish challenging them in order to generate their own special take on authenticity. All this is achieved through the qualities the band's individual members bring to the mix: the first thing you notice is Peter Stiles' hard-drivin, hard-driven mandolin that'd knock many a seasoned bluegrasser into the rear stalls, cemented by the stormin' badass rhythm guitar of Bill Anderson and the manic slap-bass of Cherilyn Dimond, then ridin' high and lonesome above all that is Jo Stanli Cohen's defiant country wail – hey now, what a singer! – that contours so ably with Cherilyn's "mountain-punk" harmonies. Oh, and there's some absolute killer fiery fiddle work from guest Darcie Deaville on a few cuts. But TMP choose their material with care too, since they've a head start with Bill as their "house songwriter"; he makes a virtue of a real ear-catching, cheeky sense of wordplay to get his rants across, and in a way it's a shame that only five out of the album's 14 tracks are his compositions, 'cos they sure turn out the highlights. Not just the stop-you-in-your-tracks stunner closing cut Car Crash, where Jo panics audibly as her doomed vision comes to pass. There's also the jaunty alcoholic's lament How Can I Be So Thirsty Today? (When I Had So Much To Drink Last Night), and the breakneck anti-drug-abuse rip-it-up TMP Smackdown to contend with. Pick of the band's enterprising selection of influence-tracing covers comes on Boyd Rice's I'd Rather Be Your Enemy and Johnny Paycheck's It Won't Be Long (And I'll Be Hating You). But there's more to TMP than full-pelt tear-up-the-tarmac dash – Peter's own Leaving turns on the mournful heartbreak in spades, just perfect and how it oughta sound in fact, while Bill Monroe's disconsolate One I Love Is Gone gets the authentic treatment with the emotional level upped a coupla notches. These and other slower-paced numbers are cunningly spaced through the disc to give good contrast, and even tho' once or twice you might start to find the frenetic pace a tad relentless then you just focus on the lyrics and you won't fret no more, I promise! Brilliant, and thoroughly invigorating.
David Kidman
Two years on from Take Yourself A Wife, their album of songs from North-East songwriters of the past three centuries, Teeside husband and wife duo Debbie Palmer and Stu Hanna return with another collection of tradition and self-penned folk.
Like its predecessor, there's a linking theme in that, inspired by the current recession, the songs address working life past and present and the relationship between employment (or lack of it) and spiritual, emotional and physical well being.
Two numbers revisit writers featured on the previous album. A witty complaint about having to rise early for work, the jaunty Time To Get Up comes from the pen of publican turned teetotaller Joe Wilson and is taken from his Tyneside Songs and Drolleries, Reading and Temperance Songs. Sung in melancholic tones by Palmer to a backdrop of what sounds like a National Steel guitar, the second, Two Match Lads, is by 19th century Stokesley dialect poet Elizabeth Tweddell, an account of two kids trying to eke a living selling matches on the street.
The opening track, its story of economic hard times sets the album's prevailing mood. Working Life Out may be musically robust and earthy with its accordion drone but, drawn from John Ord's Bothy Songs And Ballads, its lyrics recount the harsh working conditions of farm labourers while, dating back to the 60s, The Old Miner voices the words of an unnamed Durham miner's prescient concerns over the industry's future.
Not without a little irony, the traditional William Brown (on which the couple share verses) tells how the title character worked so hard he found himself out of work for producing too much surplus stock. Rather better known in folk circles will be The Handloom Weaver and the Factory Maid, mandolin strumming forcefully away as Palmer visits the trad romantic spin on a familiar industrial revolution tale of unskilled, cheaper women workers taking the jobs of the skilled weavers.
The self-penned numbers share the thematic content. Hanna taking lead, the simple guitar backed Last Man In The Factory is a self-explanatory, all too nowadays familiar story about a family business going to the wall while, Palmer on vocals, the scratchy, skiffle-blues Working Town extends the image to entire working communities that have now become boarded up estates.
It's not entirely downcast, however. Published in 1862, The Cab Man is a mandolin bubbling comic number from Blaydon Races writer George Ridley about a cocky Newcastle Hackney Carriage driver and, although told from the perspective of a wife waiting for her migrant worker husband to find work and housing in 1850 Eston, the self-penned spare and slow swaying California harks back to when Teesside once became the steel and iron capital of the world.
The age may have passed, but in recalling how an industry was born the song serves reminder of how the hard graft of the working class can overcome adversity. And that note of resilience and optimism is also at the heart of the album's beautifully harmonised standout title track, a sort of Northern football folk hymn for Middlesborough fans who, for all the missed opportunities and own goals still hold faith in miracles and that, when all hope is gone, "the long shot is better than none".
Boro may still be struggling to recover from last season's relegation, but there's little doubt that Megson are in folk's premier league to stay.
www.megsonmusic.co.uk
www.myspace.com/megsonmusic
Mike Davies April 2010
For their third album, Debbie Palmer and Stu Hanna have plunged into the deep end of the trad folk pool. Previous releases have mixed together trad material with their own self-penned, 60s folk-pop influenced songs, but this time round everything comes from a list of nine North-East songwriters who lived in the area encompassing the Cleveland Hills to south of the Scottish borders between the years 1700 and 1950.
As you'd anticipate, the playing and the new arrangements are stripped right down to the nuts and bolts with the duo relying solely on concertina, mandola, mandolin, fiddles, bass and guitar, perfectly capturing the organic nature of the songs themselves.
Although dates are unknown for two of the writers, the earliest material here would seem to come from Northumberland stonemason James Robson, a musician in the Jacobite army of 1715 who wrote The Pitman's Happy Times (here given a folk blues slow jog) while imprisoned in Preston.
Born around 1775, Henry Robson was a Tyneside printer who resisted the customary tradition of writing in Northern dialect, Palmer double tracking her vocals for Sandgate Lassie's Lament about a young keelman press-ganged into the Royal Navy. A little older than Robson, Preston's William Mitford's contribution, The New Fish Market, is an early example of town planning protest, his call to arms to defy Newcastle Corporation's plans to replace 'the wee shop that once held Jack the Barber' and other merchants with a new fish market, bashed out by the duo on strummed mandolin.
Born in Edinburgh in 1794, Robert Emery moved to Newcastle as a lad to become a printer's apprentice. He clearly had an ear for a story as, given muscle by electric guitar, Jane Jamieson's Ghost tells of the ghost of a street vendor executed for matricide in March 1829, now walking the streets calling out her market cries from the afterlife.
The hard times of the 19th century caused many to emigrate in search of better lives, and such is the subject of the melancholic O Mary Will You Go written by Richard Watson,a rare example of an educated pit worker who also mined a successful reputation as a poet.
The life of miners was also a rich seam for songwriters, and, sung unaccompanied, pitman Tommy Armstrong's The Oakey Strike Evictions recounts the practice of striking miners being evicted from their homes by the 'Candymen' bailiffs.
There's no known dates for Teesdale's Thomas Raine but, collected by Ewan MacColl and Joan Littlewood, Fourpence A Day, the album's most rousing, uptempo tune, refers to the money paid to the young washer boys who worked 12 hours a day cleaning the ore from the lead mines.
A bit of a superstar playing to packed houses on the North East circuit, Joe Wilson worked himself to an early grave at the age of 33, the hard slog of life on the road imbuing Little Joe, a poignant letter home to his son and one of the album's standout numbers. Which just leaves Take Yourself A Wife. A playful tongue in cheek tune given a suitably upbeat treatment, it's the sole female contribution to the album, written by Elizabeth Tweddell, the wife of a writer and publisher who, after the kids were grown, embarked on a literary career of her own, the song taken from Rhymes and Sketches, a collection written to illustrate the Cleveland Dialect. Not, perhaps, of quite the same stature as MacColl and Littlewood's Radio Ballads, but firmly in the Waterson-Carthy spirit and superbly sung and played, this is a fine tribute to some of the region's little known or long forgotten songwriters and sure to become a staple in trad folk clubs up and down the country.
Mike Davies September 2008
Hailing from Teeside and now making something of a splash on the London club circuit, soprano voiced Debbie Palmer and musical partner Stu Hanna started out singing in their local chor, a background that undoubtedly went some way to shaping her pure vocals. While nodding to indie pop inspirations here and there, the core of their sound is rooted very much in the late 60s folk-pop, the opening Rose On The Stem reminiscent of Mike and Sally Oldfield's outfit Sallyangie or Renaissance before they went all over-orchestrated.
Their traditional influences are well in evidence on this debut album with five songs getting Megson arrangements and with the duo setting trad lyrics to their own music on northern homesick lament Oak & Ash and the salty breeze hued tale of Grace Darling.
Their interpretations are undeniably solid; haunting Welsh folk song The Loom showing off Hanna's prowess on finger picked acoustic guitar while a wistful reading of Butternut Hill's anti-war sentiments (Palmer's angelic voice soaring away in behind the guitar solo), the perky Maid on the Shore and the 18th century nursery rhyme Sandy Dawe on which Hanna takes lead all prove highlights.
They're no slouches penning their own material either. More Than Me is a gorgeous chiming break up love song that evokes thoughts of Art Garfunkel while a bouncy mandolin led tune provides setting for Freefall's snapshot of the daily grind. They've already warmed the cockles of Bob Harris's heart with the sweetness of the melodies and harmonies and it shouldn't be long before they're making further inroads into the awareness of audiences already turned on to the likes of Eliza Carthy and Rusby & Lakeman.
Mike Davies
Dogan, a Brighton-based second-generation Turkish Cypriot and finalist in 2008's BBC Young Folk Awards, has been dubbed "one of the UK's first Turkish morris men". An intriguing tag, but one which on hearing his debut CD you'll understand - though it's by no means the whole story.
Dogan, along with his storming five-piece backing band The Deerhunters, creates a unique Anglo-Turkish/gypsy-punk (call it what you may!)-style mix of southern English and Turkish folk songs, self-penned material and driven tunes from both English morris and Cypriot traditions. The album is a thrillingly original, upfront experience, brimming over with Dogan's unbridled enthusiasm for creatively combining his own heritage with a deep-rooted love for the aforementioned Southern English traditional music. It's hard to believe he's still 19!
Dogan's a stunning singer and violinist, exuding all the chutzpah and verve you'd associate with the Demon Barbers or Little Johnny England, allied to a genuinely cutting-edge response to tradition that comes not only with those artists but also with (say) Jim Moray or the Imagined Village project. The mix is compelling. His original song West Pier, for instance, penned in response to the tragic destruction of Brighton's magnificent landmark, is shot through with ample feeling for its heritage and culminates in a fantastic, florid improvised violin solo (Ozun Hava) that acts as a bridge to the bouncy syncopations of the dance tune Ceftetelli (common among both Turks and Greeks) and a rousing chorus song in praise of girls from his grandfather's village Dillirga. Dogan's other original song on the disc, The Raging Seas, is a banjo-flecked reflection on conversations with his grandfather about Turkish and Cypriot history and reminiscences.
Another high-point of the disc is the closing track, an epic rendition of The Royal Oak, sung with tremendous conviction and bite, which relies more on light and shade and atmosphere to build its narrative and employs some intriguingly unusual touches along the way. Earlier, Dog(an turns in tough, forthright performances of Wraggle Taggle Gypsies, The Lawyer and Seventeen Come Sunday, which manage to be both effervescent and respectful of the sources; sometimes these powerfully combine with original morris-inspired tunes by band members (Tom Redman or Tom Wright).
Throughout, however, Dogan's own enthusiasm is infectious and doesn't need to be curbed all the while he can exercise a plausible degree of self-restraint too, as here. The robustly rocking, superbly gutsy nature of the music and playing on this disc is acutely matched by its bright and stupendously forward recording quality. By all accounts we should be hearing much more of Dog(an in times to come.
www.doganmehmet.com
www.myspace.com/doganmehmetthedeerhunters
David Kidman November 2009
Produced by T Bone Burnett and recorded (on vintage gear and in mono) at "historically significant locations around the South" (Sun Studios, the First African Baptist Church in Savannah, room 404 of San Antonio's Gunter Hotel which saw the birth of Robert Johnson's Brunswick recordings) with all the musicians gathered and playing together. With songs that "reflect various American traditions" (folk, gospel, swampy blues, country), Mellencamp says his 19th studio album is his "most rebellious record ever".
Well, I'm not sure how he defines rebellion, but if he means getting back to his musical roots rather than making an album with one eye on the commercial market, I guess it is.
The live approach ensures an off the cuff feel (even if they worked things up before takes) that's equally relaxed on the rockabilly title track as it is on bluesy stomp No One Cares About Me, Johnny Cash chugger Coming Down The Road or the honky tonk waltzing Don't Forget About Me.
Fuelled by themes of mortality, reflection, hope, the need for relationships and being on good terms with life in general, several songs count among some of the best of his career, not least the opening Some Time To Dream, the jazz-folk fiddle backed Right Behind Me, spooked blues West End and A Graceful Fall, the latter sounding as though it was plucked right out of the 50s.
The problem is that, while he's in fine dusty rasp voice, there's too many occasions when he sounds like his influences. John Prine's timbre and phrasings are there on Love At First Sight and Thinking About You while, accompanied by banjo, Easter Eve's six minute folk ballad tale of being out with his (apparently pretty tough) adolescent son who gets into a barroom fight with some drunk with attitude is pure Dylan in both construction and delivery.
But if the only problem is that you stand comparison with two of American folk's finest names, then I guess you don't got much to worry about.
www.mellencamp.com
www.myspace.com/johnmellencamp
Mike Davies September 2010
Melanie - Paled By Dimmer Light (CNR)
The first person I ever interviewed when I got into the music hack business, with her songs of peace, love and brand new keys Melanie Safka was the seminal poster child for the hippy 60s, her distinctive warble bringing new emotional life to Ruby Tuesday, her first UK hit. Inevitably, as the era passed so did she, her sometimes 'hello skies, hello trees' sensibilities out of synch with the new world. Her last significantly promoted release was Seventh Wave back in 1983 and although she's continued to record, her albums have either been unavailable in the UK or subject to the official secrets act. To be honest, I thought she'd retired, but it seems she's set up a thriving cottage industry with a whole clutch of albums, both new material and re-recordings, available though her web site and mail order.
She's back in the spotlight now - Radio 2 exposure included - with her first fully distributed album since 1989. I'm pleased to say she's in fine form too, her tremulously emotional voice still capable of evoking a catch in the heart, familiar songs of self-questioning, common humanity and relationships understandably now veined - as on the excellent I Tried To Die Young - with themes of ageing and reflection.
As ever, while there are moments of delicacy (They Can Find You In Your Dreams, The Ballad of Crazy Love), her folk hued rock typically swells to big music crescendos, finely represented here in the likes of Make It Work For Me, the driving pop You Call Yourself A Writer and the anthemic guitar ringing (courtesy song Beau Jared Shekeryk) And We Fall. Fitting then that, in a continuing tradition of recording solid cover versions, she invests U2's I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For with a rousing sense of yearning and spirituality. Seems those candles in the rain are still burning bright.
Mike Davies
David Kidman August 2007
One of the most sought-after major-label folk-rock rarities has at last been granted a proper re-release with decent (read excellent) packaging including fully informative sleeve notes and complete lyrics. Listening to the music of Mellow Candle now, it seems extraordinary that it should have remained buried for so long, for Swaddling Songs really is a gem. By the time it was recorded, though, in 1971, the group was on its third incarnation, with its touring activities including support for the likes of Lindisfarne and Steeleye. The group had always centred round the songwriting and vocal talents of Dublin-born pianist Clodagh Simonds, whose glorious harmonies with fellow-Dubliner Alison Williams (by then O'Donnell) formed such a striking feature of the band sound. The lineup at that point was then completed by guitarist David Williams, bassist Frank Boylan and drummer Willy Murray. Appearing on the Deram label, you could say the band was caught in the crossfire between folk-rock, prog and psych, and certainly there are times when you feel they've got the best of all three sub-genres in this lone album. There's a strident, Maddy Prior-like sense of drama to Dan The Wing, and the harpsichord-drenched opener Harmony Heath recalls Celia Humphries/Trees, while the classical predilections of Renaissance (on Alison's composition Messenger Birds) contrast with the theatricality of Principal Edwards Magic Theatre (on The Poet And The Witch) and the eerie Sheep Season. And yet there's a bluesy toughness and confidence about songs like Lonely Man, Silver Song and Buy Or Beware that tempers claims to any kind of specifically folk-rock throne, whereas the refrain of the pulsating closer Boulders On My Grave is the closest to Irish "turalu" trad the record gets. But for all that, Mellow Candle still don't exactly conform to any given prototypes, least of all in the peculiarly mystical nature of the songwriting. They really do seem to have developed an individual musical niche that, while seeming fully-formed, also showed great promise for a future that (alas) was never to be. (As a footnote, however: individual band members have gone on to - much later - produce some interesting music... check out Alison's Mise Agus Ise album from 2006, for instance, which reunited her with Frank and David.) Yes, Swaddling Songs is a neglected classic: trust me!
David Kidman August 2008
B-side, flip side, side 2, seaside: this two-disc collection of tracks from the "other side of TMTCH" covers all those obscure and forgotten varieties of discographical anomaly during the period of the band's history from first demos in a basement studio in Shepherd's Bush 1984 through the surprise split in 1991 to the reformation in 1996. It's an attempt to clear some of the fog away from the confusing plethora of multi-format releases (on a variety of labels) that appeared during that period, which even the band's fans will have found an impossible task to keep up with – and to this end a discographical section would have been a useful addition to the liner notes, although these are pretty informative in their own right.
Anyway, what we have here is a cross-section sliced through the kind of material the band was performing live, stuff that didn't fit with the albums, and so forth. The common factor being a combination of easy musicianship, commitment and a penchant for having a good time, with an inclination towards the maverick and unpredictable. Hectic live schedules often left the band with little time to develop their songwriting craft, but some fine material still got shunted off into the sidings of the 12-inch format; two prime examples of this being the bittersweet Pieces Of Paradise (which I'd never come across before) and The Ghosts Of Cable Street, which (perversely) appeared not on the 12" of that name but on Gold Rush… Then there's that intriguing song Dream Machine, here shorn of its would-be-spectacular playlet-prelude, and at the other side of the spectrum a bunch of raw and raucous essays such as Whiskey With Me Giro and the frantic rock'n'roller Johnny Come Home, both of which possess their own unassumingly primitive charm. Punchy covers of 70s classics like Slade's Gudbuy T' Jane and 10cc's Rubber Bullets both unexpectedly hit the mark, as in a more poignant way do the band's takes on Liverpool Lullaby (Mucky Kid) and Neil Young's Harvest Moon and their surprisingly affectionate rendition of the old Marty Robbins number Big Iron.
Country-punk, indie jangle, feisty anthemic folk-rock, wacky trash-can punk – all have their place in this assorted parade of takes that I'm glad didn't end up being swept off the cutting-room floor into the waste-basket, but instead are preserved for posterity on this collection. But (OK, my memory may be playing tricks here) aren't there even more TMTCH rarities ripe for exhumation from the archives? There would surely have been room for even more delights on these two discs, I'm sure. By the way, 5 Go Mad on Tour at festivals this summer - plenty of chances to catch them!
David Kidman August 2011
TMTCH, remember, were one of the elite collection of bands who brought to the tired mid-80s an energetic marriage of punk-rock and folk/Celtic sensibilities. The Pogues and Oysterband (arguably the Men's closest original bedfellows) may have attained higher profiles, then and since, but TMTCH have still endured the decades well, continuing (with just the one six-year hiatus in recordings) to preserve their own distinctive niche on that honorary continuum (along which also reside those good people Urban Folk, Robb Johnson, Levellers and Blyth Power), by delivering their own special brand of politically-savvy, intelligent and tuneful anthemic rock-with-folk-stylings.
Devil On The Wind, the Men's first full studio album in six years (since 2003's The Cherry Red Jukebox), appears on the eve of their 25th anniversary as a band. A short while back, the band released a "taster" in the form of an EP of the same name, which contained four exclusive tracks, a rootsy mix of the title song and one preview album track. Now, on the main-course full-length CD, the full-on thrust of the trusty latterday TMTCH lineup (Phil "Swill" Odgers, Stefan Cush, Paul Simmonds and Ricky McGuire with virtually-permanent drummer Billy Jo Abbott) is boosted by a handful of guest musicians comprising TMTCH regulars Bobby Valentino, Nick Muir, Dave Kent and Tom Spencer, with David Carroll on uilleann pipes and Appalachian dulcimer, plus an appearance on trumpet from Chumba's Jude Abbott (on Aquamarine). Production's by Pat Collier, who's succeeded not only in capturing the essence of TMTCH and their sheer enjoyment in making the music together, but also conjuring a rousing, majestic ambience. For Pat's skills, together with the contributions of the guests, swell the basic TMTCH sound out way beyond the Men's trademark ferocious live attack into a handsomely accessible recorded artifact whose rich-toned, full-bodied presence conjures a wide-screen quality befitting the globally-conscious vision of the lyrics, parading confidence without complacency.
The title track's panoramic spaghetti-eastern sweep rides out across a hellish landscape on the first of three songs that concern themselves with the contemporary Middle East situation. Reservoir depicts a Gulf War veteran running amok way down yonder in New Orleans, while Overseas, with its edict that "faith will be the key", draws a thought-provoking parallel with the time of the Crusades. The latter's one of five songs where Cush handles lead vocal, another being Beast Of Brechfa (a pell-mell study in fear), but don't fret for Swill's on typically intense form for the rest, notably Heartbreak Park (which examines the effect of spirit-of-place on the collective psyche) and The Ragged Shoreline (an evocative Coast-style overview). Some other songs depart a touch from what one might regard the Hang-Men's norm as represented by the doomy power-punk prophecy of A Real Rain Coming (which takes its cue from a line in the movie Taxi Driver): for instance, the seductive (if somewhat idealised) romantic-poesy of the lover's portrait Aquamarine; the bittersweet, almost Gregsong-esque pop-country-balladry of Hard To Find and the wistful Mrs. Avery (a deliberate "what happened next" sequel to Dr. Hook's weepy Sylvia's Mother).
Devil On The Wind represents rather more than a return-to-form for the Men: it's a stimulating addition to their illustrious catalogue, and a clear indication of their proven longevity. So hang on in there!
David Kidman July 2009
The Mendoza Line - Fortune (Cooking Vinyl)
Born in Athens, residents of Brooklyn, and named for underachieving Mexican baseball player Mario Mendoza, the quintet's last album, Lost in Revelry, saw them breaking out into a wider audience and being deluged with critical acclaim. As a result they boarded the plane and went off gigging around the UK and, er, Greece. Their first time away from home, it spurred them to start writing songs around themes of Americans abroad in troubled times and of recent immigrants to the US.
In some instances this is just a reason to come up with a hood down road song like the burring hook riddled pop of Before I Hit The Wall, but most times it serves to set up the downbeat mood that informs the woozy Fellow Travelers with its veiled references to the way the country now seems to exist to serve those who can afford to buy, the short but tumbling catchy handclapping Faithful Brother (Scourge of the Land) where Shannon McArdle takes lead to observe how Americans aren't that welcome any more, and the metaphorical but fairly obvious rock n roll stroller The Road To Insolvency.
However, although Metro Pictures and the country aching Will You Be Here Tomorrow slow dance with a sad pedal steel, Let's Not Talk About It is resignedly worn down and Throw It In The Fire is 60s folk pop woven and twang guitar with funeral march rhythms, the dominant musical mood is surprisingly jubilant, An Architect's Eye swaggering like an alcohol drenched Stones, Tiny Motions a circling Byrdsian ringer, The Road To Insolvency evoking Armed Forces era Elvis and the likes of It's A Long Line (But It Moves Quickly) even reminiscent of the 70 British pub rock of Dave Edmunds and Nick Lowe. Mendoza may have had an undistinguished batting record, but the band look like hitting it out of the park.
Mike Davies
Is there no end to the incredible creativity in Scotland these days, I ask myself, for the musicians of that fair nation are continually finding vital new ways to interpret and carry forward their traditions in the context of, and representing, an important world-stage music in its own right (expanding on the pioneering work of Martyn Bennett, I'm reminded at times here).
This new collaborative venture between Mary Macmaster (leading exponent of the clarsach and electro-harp and a key member of The Poozies and Sileas) and Donald Hay (leading and much-in-demand exponent of the empathic school of drumming/percussion) provides a magically innovative, thoughtful and genuinely progressive, take on traditional Scottish music that is sure to attract a wider range of listeners.
It's not a purely instrumental album either, a factor which will definitely broaden its appeal outwith the pure-Celtic brigade. Now we all know Mary's a fabulous singer as well as a brilliant harper, and she gets plenty of chances to shine here in the sparkling musical settings that she and Donald conjure from what might imagine would be rather limited resources. The album displays a thoroughly skilful use of timbre and texture that comes from two musicians who really know their instruments and their latent possibilities and have the imagination to remain open to, and keenly and boldly investigate, new ideas (including the use of samples).
Love And Reason brings us a seriously invigorating sequence of music that journeys from a delectable reel composed by Vancouver fiddle and trumpet player Daniel Lapp, onto a pair of original tunes by piper Fred Morrison, a brace of Gaelic waulking songs, a curious pibroch by MacCrimmon, a fine song by Burns (Weary - The Slave's Lament) and two written by local Edinburgh legend Sandy Wright- of which the unequivocally simple statement of love that is My Shining Star forms the disc's final (and quite perfect) utterance. Highlights during the course of this wonderful journey include an enchanting little song from the time of the Jacobite Rebellion concerning the proscribed wearing of the plaid; the aforementioned pibroch, Lament For The Children (which eerily, almost cinematically, incorporates the sounds of children's cries - it shouldn't work, but it does!); Mary's delicate personalised setting of Sorley MacLean's poem Reason And Love; and the joyously rippling tune-set Waves.
Mary's in splendid voice, and no more sympathetic and tasteful (fully present but never remotely intrusive) accompanist could she have than Donald in her exemplary renditions of the MacLean and waulking songs in particular; they're joined by singer Amy MacDougall on two of the pieces (including the aforementioned Burns song). The whole album is beguiling and mesmerising, and I'm totally caught up in the engulfing wave of enchantingly inspirational sounds and atmospheric moods and texturings.
David Kidman December 2009
David Kidman
Cork-born Lorcán is a passionate young sean-nós singer with a confident and commanding, though sensibly measured, style which emphasises the musical quality of the songs in an often quite innovative way while demonstrating both a respect for and understanding of the texts. Sean-nós singing can be a bit of an acquired taste, I'll admit, but Lorcán's strongly individual presentation is both intense and involving without being austere or intimidating: deliberate yes, but involved rather than soporific. There's both intimacy and an understated sensuousness in his response (a combination which I've noted also in the singing of Dónal Maguire), and on some of the songs there's also an approach to decoration that rather resembles that of Robin Williamson. Unusually for a singer perhaps, Lorcán admits that he has often fallen for the music of a song and the sound of its phrases before he understood anything else about it. The drone of a hardanger or fiddle (Caoimhin Ó Raghallaigh), cello (Jane Hughes) or pipes (Mick O'Brien), at once pictorial and timeless, Pictorial aspect to the musical expression almost before the meaning of the words at times. other musicians play harp, whistle and bodhrán but each individual song in sparse in texture and two of the key songs are performed "undressed with accompaniment" as Lorcán aptly describes it. There's a weird sensation caused by Lorcán double-tracking some passages of the text of the eerie 18th century elegy Tuireamh Mhic Finín Dhuibh, only accentuating the sheer other-worldly nature of its melody line, which is at once epic and highly disorientating. A bit like the parallel-chanting of Tibetan monks, perhaps, but it sounds truly extraordinary. Finally, the whole CD ends most delightfully when the subtly mellow song Bean Dubh An Ghleanna glides almost effortlessly into an uplifting and gently sparkling Merry-Band-like playthrough of the reel Kiss The Maid Behind The Barrel. Sure enough, there's sometimes a hint of stridency in Lorcán's delivery, and it probably won't help that a significant majority of the disc's tracks are performed at a similar (slowish) pace, but personally I've found this one of the most captivating discs of sean-nós singing I've encountered in recent years.
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman May 2008
www.alisonmcmorland.com
www.greentrax.com
David Kidman December 2007
Nairn-born fiddler Rua (short for Ruairidh), as well as fronting his own band, is currently a member of the award-winning Paul McKenna Band, whose CD Between Two Worlds I reviewed here a year or so back. But I'd say Rua's got even more to offer on this seriously exciting solo album, on which he plays a selection of his own compositions together with spirited arrangements of traditional and contemporary tunes.
This solo recording came about as a prize for winning BBC Radio Scotland's Young Traditional Musician Of The Year award in 2009, and on this evidence Rua's already a major force to be reckoned with, displaying a striking degree of maturity and confidence both in his playing and in his willingness to experiment with fresh arrangements for the music. A key feature of Rua's solid technique is his embracing of pipe-ornamentation as an influence on his fingerwork – you can hear this best, perhaps, in the style he adopts for Charlie McKerron's Bruachladdich on the Ooh, Pierre set (track 7).
But unlike many fiddlers with a strongly driven style, Rua convinces whatever the tempo – whether on the lively medley of jigs (track 2), the rollicking Kitchen Criminals set or the lovely, reflective Harv's (composed for Kristan Harvey, a fine fiddler from Orkney). Although Rua's strong, brilliant fiddle playing is at the forefront of this persuasive recording (produced by Brian McNeill), a certain amount of the record's special character stems from his choice of accompanying musicians – principally Tia Files (guitars, bass) and Adam Brown (bodhrán), both members of Rua's own band, and augmented occasionally by Alasdair MacLeod (drums), and further (on just two tracks) by Brian himself on concertina or bouzouki and Lorne MacDougall on pipes and whistle on the superbly animated George, Donald And Sandy (march-and-pipe-jigs combination). Tia's guitar work both propels and complements Rua's own sense of forward momentum, while Adam's bodhrán playing is a model of sensitivity.
Even so, the one entirely solo track, a soulful, entirely affectionate and wonderfully rich-toned rendition of the lullaby Bidh Clann Ulaidh, proves a disc highlight (and fittingly too, since it was the very music which won Rua the YTM award!). Perhaps the Glasgow Spike march seems a touch hard-driven at first, but the use of octave fiddles for a textural backdrop is a nice foil for the more abrasive front-line work; and it's a pity the ensuing tune is faded before it's outstayed its welcome. But even this doesn't spoil the keen impact Rua's playing has on the listener, especially since there's still one more track to play - the hard-swinging Taxi set…! For Tyro is both a very attractive and forcefully impressive record: one that bodes extremely well for Rua's future career.
David Kidman October 2010
Formerly into hardcore punk, spindly Irish singer-songwriter McMorrow had something of a Road To Damascus conversion when he stumbled on CS&N. Taking himself off to write and record in a remote house by the sea, he emerged with wispy beard, hat and a collection of bucolic songs inspired by folk music and writers such as Steinbeck and Dahl, featuring banjo and delivered in a fragile croaky falsetto to be, rather inevitably, hailed as Dublin's answer to Bon Iver.
He's not averse, however, to kicking up his heels for a bit of a shindig with Sparrow And The Wolf positively bustling along while Breaking Hearts conjures lollopping Neil Young and This Old Dark Machine has echoes of Joni's Woodstock amid its CS&N flavours. And he catches you totally offguard when From The Woods suddenly erupts in an urgent panic that makes you want to run and not look behind.
It is, though, for the sparse and hushed pastoral ballads that he's going to be known for the present, beautifully framed in numbers like the airy Hear The Noise That Moves So Soft And Low and the darker shadows of Follow You Down To The Red Oak Tree, haunted folk blues Down The Burning Ropes and the waltzing And If My Heart Should Somehow Stop. Early In The Morning, I'll Come Calling he sings on the title track closer. I'd make sure you're at home for visitors.
Mike Davies February 2011
An excellent all-instrumental release from a young East Tennessee banjo player (just 22 years old at the time of this recording), who's clearly been influenced big-time by Earl Scruggs but retains plenty of his own individual brand of fiery expertise (just you marvel at Josh's take on Earl's Randy Lynn Rag!). Josh also does a nice line in lyricism (as on his treatment of the song Cora's Gone, where the melodic flow continues unhampered by the exigencies of tuning or conversion), and he even proves himself a dab hand on finger-picking guitar too on a couple of tracks. Josh's been a member of Larry Sparks' band for the past five years too, which speaks volumes for his talents. So too is the very indication given by the presence of Scott Napier (mandolin), Randall Hubbard (bass), Hunter Berry (fiddle) and G.C. Matlock (guitar) as the basic backing crew for this record; the ensemble work is just grand, and no-one could accuse Josh of steamrollering through the laser with an overbearing banjo showcase as every player is given due weight. Most of the music Josh has chosen to play here is fairly well-trodden within old-time/bluegrass circles, at least in its original guise (several tunes are creative and resourceful song adaptations by Josh himself), but in truth these performances are most invigorating and are well able to hold their own (all-round inspired and deft picking is the order of the day, yes sir!). There's even a jolly rendition of Stephen Foster's Suwannee (sic) River! The only drawback of this CD (a couple of premature fades aside) is the seriously light playing-time - 29 minutes, which is utterly ridiculous in this day and age.
David Kidman
What it says on the box, this is a collection of eight numbers recorded at gigs in Amsterdam, The Netherlands and Germany during McMurtry's first European tour with a four piece band featuring Tim Holt on guitar, bassist Ronnie Johnson, drummer Daren Hess and Ian McLagen on keyboards.
Save for the Bruce Cockburn-like Restless from Childish Things and Fraulein O which, to the best of my knowledge, ha sonly ever appear on Live In Aught-Three, everything comes from his most recent studio album, Just Us Kids.
Swamp boogie Bayou Tortue kicks things off with guitars setting a Creedence groove but, save for Freeway View where McLagen lets rip, the set favours the album's mid-tempo and bluesier drawled ballad numbers, Katrina themed Hurricane Party, You'd A'Thought (Leonard Cohen Must Die), Just Us Kids and the speak-sing narrative Ruby And Carlos.
However, this is only part of the picture. Because the album was issued on vinyl, the running time was limited. Hence the CD runs for just over 40 mins, but comes with a bonus DVD from the Paradiso, Amsterdam, show which, in addition to footage of the band performing Freeway and You'd A'Thought, features a further four numbers.
First up is Choctaw Bingo, a 10 minute bar room jam that, at times, reminds me of the rhythm line from Come Together. They keep it hot for blues boogie We Can't Make It Here, McLagen again pounding the keys while the DVD winds up on the mid-tempo burn of Too Long In The Wasteland. Before that, however, show opener Jon Dee Graham, seemingly having availed himself of the dressing room rider in the interim, returns to the stage to round on some critic who was 'not impressed' with his performance and then crank up a storm with Laredo.
Although a solid enough live set, with its very specific album promotional focus this is very much one for the fans rather than something to point newcomers to the repertoire, but as such it's a tasty filler until the next studio album arrives.
Mike Davies February 2010
Eight albums down the line and the son of Texas novelist Larry is firmly on a roll, following up Childish Things with an ever more political collection of songs hewn from his ongoing disillusion with his country and the current administration's handling of Hurricane Katrina and the Irag war.
He's pretty specific on the growling, guitar gutsy Cheney's Toy, a bitter indictment of the way the war has dehumanised those sent to fight in it and of a President blinded by the pursuit of a legacy of his own. Likewise, the bluesy slow riffing God Bless America, a track that again evokes thoughts of Bruce Cockburn, directs its attention at the oil industry while a Steve Earle-like banjo picking Ruins Of The Realm notes how nation states have a habit of falling apart and, by inference, draws a comparison between the 'little cowboy' and the Third Reich.
He's not all about Iraq, though. Hurricane Party revisits New Orleans from the perspective of a guy who stayed behind, observing the waters rise and reflecting on the way things change and slip away.
Showing the same storytelling skills as his father and prompting thoughts of Warren Zevon's finest moments, Ruby And Carlos is a stand out semi-spoken tale of a Gulf war vet turned drummer and his woman trying to make a relationship work in the face of everything life's thrown at them as the years fall past while the title track revisits Johnny from his song Candyland, now grown with a kid, a divorce and a life still going nowhere.
Equally potent and downbeat, Fire Line Road is a powerful drawled Texan country-blues, a tale of domestic sexual abuse as Alice Walker recounts how her sister wasn't lucky enough to avoid their drunken father's desires.
Interestingly, given his cinematic style, The Governor, about a murdered fisherman and political conspiracy, is actually John Sayles' Silver City recast as a song. Musically, whether rocking the boogie on Bayou Turtous and Freeway View, the latter featuring Ian McLagen driving the groove, or otherwise chewing the Texas dust, this is McMurtry's most confident and assured work yet, and if he's got the blood churning in his anger and frustration, he leaves the album on You'd a Thought with a note of acceptance that we're essentially always going to repeat the same mistakes but that "through all the smoke and mirrors, I guess we do the best we can." He certainly has here.
Mike Davies July 2008
If you were presented with this without a sleeve then you'd easily think it was a new album from Bruce Cockburn. The son of novelist Larry (whose work has been a long standing influence on Nancy Griffith), McMurtry may be Texan but the opening cover of Dave Alvin's Dry River sounds so like the Canadian singer-songwriter, from voice to musical arrangement, that it's spooky. The title track filters in a hint of early Dylan sounding like a slowed down Queen Jane Approximately, but whether rocking it up on Valley Road or taking it down slow and moody as on Out Here In The Middle or the smouldering Red Dress with its Hendrixy chopping guitar, the Cockburn comparisons are hard to shake.
Still, if that doesn't pose a problem, then McMurtry has rewards aplenty on offer. Like Cockburn too he's an observer of the shifting world, the city and the backroads that lead there. Inspired no doubt by his dad's writing, his characters are losers (Lobo Town), down and outs (Saint Mary of the Woods), broken lovers (Broken Beds), kids recounting their parents fights (Gone To The Y), ordinary lives coping with ordinary life, often leaning on a bottle to make it through. Sometimes leaning too hard. As Out Here In The Middle indicates, he's also concerned about the changing face of the rural American landscape and the erosion of the people and places upon which the nation was founded. Listening to him relate the family reunion of hell raising, gun totin', cousin-screwing, land rent shark rednecks in Choctaw Bingo you wonder if that's necessarily a bad thing.!
www.jamesmcmurtry.com
www.sugarhillrecords.com
Mike Davies
Virginia MacNaughton - Levers Pulleys & Engines (Paraphernalia)
With one indie label album already to her credit (ascribed to Vanessa MacNaughton in the Q review) and work with the Young Vic, the Linconshire born singer-songwriter isn't new to the game but it's reasonable to assume she's not a name likely to ring many bells. That should change with this her own label sophomore release. Among the inevitable comparisons that attach themselves to any new artist have been Dido, Beth Orton, Indigo Girls, Kirsty MacColl and Nick Drake, to which you may as well as Eddi Reader and Judie Tzuke for good measure with music that sits comfortably in the cool folksy-jazz pop zone. A little too poised and crafted at times when a rush of blood would have worked better, even so she's possessed of a honeyed voice that swoops and hushes to easy laid back Chardonnay evenings effect, subtly veined with the sense of resignation and wearied hurt that imbues many of her bleak and desperate love songs. Goodbye To All That (dedicated to MacColl) is ideal testament to her way around an arrangement with its dark coffee Latin flavoured percussion while the likes of Faceless, Anonymous (a song about loving an alcoholic), a slow waltzing Worth The Wait and the understated excellence of the opening Essentially Prey reveal her intelligent, literate way around bruised romance and insecurity. The ringing Lou Reed like guitar lines of From the Heart Down shows she can handle the big rock sound as confidently as wispy acoustic and throws up yet another reference point in Shawn Colvin with a track that cries out to be a Radio 2 featured single and quite possibly the lever that will crack wide the dividing wall between cult and star.
Mike Davies
This guy's a bit of a local hero round these parts (read West Yorkshire): though deservedly well regarded as a solo performer (singer, songwriter, guitarist, indeed multi-instrumentalist), Gerry also leads his own four-piece band and augmented "orchestra" and plays stand-up bass with Duncan McFarlane's mighty acoustic outfit, yet in spite of all these activities he somehow maintains an unassuming profile.
Although Gerry's been around the music scene for some 25 years, with his expertise in great demand from fellow-musicians, it's only in the past five years that he's launched himself into a solo career path. An early studio recording displayed Gerry's penchant and aptitude for intelligent experimentation, especially as regards texture and arrangement, while now on the brand-new album release, Small Town Boy, he combines that trait with his many other proven talents: characterful singing, skilled songwriting and fine all-round musicianship, all of which can be heard to good advantage on a thoughtful collection of songs that celebrate the best of contemporary acoustic writing with a handful of keen arrangements of traditional songs that (as a self-confessed nu-folkie!) he's recently discovered.
To help him realise the potential of these songs, Gerry has drawn around him a host of talented friends, mixing and matching the various musical colours as they drop in to assist. There's a real feel of willing collaboration, a genuinely enjoyable coming-together of enviably naturally talented muso-mates. These include members of his band (Katriona Gilmore on fiddle and mandolin, Ruth Wilde on double bass and Liam McNeice on guitar) and extended orchestra (Dom Howell on bodhrán and Jude Rees on oboe), while there are also key appearances from melodeonists Andy Cutting, Steve Fairholme and Pete Robinson, with backing vocals from Michelle Plum, fiddle from Marjorie Paterson and Jamie Roberts on trombone: stars every one of 'em!
Gerry's personal treatments of his chosen material are without exception genial and pleasing, but that evaluation should not be taken pejoratively, for he displays a real knack for communicating the essence of each song; it's rather that Gerry's performances are couched in a brilliantly likeable, listener-friendly and thoroughly accessible nu-folk idiom that occasionally understates and belies its own keen depth of invention and imagination.
Gerry's own songs (just three on this disc, but there's plenty more on the stocks!) are simply- and memorably-expressed demonstrations of his acute empathy with the human condition, although their inspiration invariably derives from specific stories. These in turn can be based either on true events (Home is the tale of an American airman lost in training during WW2, whereas Danger Sign uses the much-documented local issue of the fence alongside the river Wharfe in Otley as a telling metaphor for other life experiences and concerns) or urban myths (The Legend Of Black Jack, a ghost who haunted a friend's farm). Gerry also turns in affectionate and well-considered performances of songs penned by other songwriters: Katriona's I Know You (clearly inspired by Alison Krauss) receives a distinctive, sensitive reading that's quite different from that on Kat and Jamie's own 2006 EP, while Boo Hewerdine's limpid Wings On My Heels shows Gerry's persuasive way with that kind of nostalgic material. For two of the album's songs, there's no other recorded comparison to hand: Shadow Of Skiddaw, which comes from the pen of Australian singer-songwriter Chris Aronsten, appealingly namechecks several locations from Gerry's (and mine own!) favourite part of the Lake District, while Circle (Round) For Danny is a lovely, evocative recent composition by Duncan McFarlane written for and about his own grandfather. Elsewhere: do we really need yet another version of Beeswing? A resounding yes, when it's as finely realised as Gerry's!
He also manages to achieve a similar freshness of interpretive approach for other folkie-familiar fodder, here the traditional songs Flash Company, The White Cockade and Lezzie Lindsay, all of which he so beguilingly makes his own. In all these cases, Gerry's superlative renditions can proudly hold their own alongside those by illustrious "star names" of the folk scene; and his melodious take on Braw Sailing is a close match for Kris Drever's celebrated recent version, which can be taken as praise indeed.
As a singer, Gerry has a very pleasing vocal delivery, a gentle and light-textured but never unfeeling way of putting across a song, the total believability of which is only mildly compromised on isolated occasions by the slightly forced adoption of an "accent" (a Scottish burr on Circle For Danny and a rougher tone on some phrases of Flash Company).
Not only is Gerry a significantly accomplished instrumentalist (guitars, tenor guitar, bouzouki, banjo and basses), wearing his talents lightly and modestly, but he also has a great ear for effective blending of instrumental colour; each successive listen to this CD reveals playful and ingenious subtleties of individual parts that really enhance his own performances. For the most part, the carefully-managed recording does Gerry's creative insights commendable justice, although there were times when I felt a touch of opaqueness in the overall texture, especially in the definition of bass lines and some minor clutter in the separation of other parts.
But these trifles matter little when set alongside the considerable achievements of the disc as a whole in accurately presenting the consummate nature of Gerry's talents and reflecting where Gerry is artistically right now. And it's top quality all the way - no wonder he's got so many friends!
David Kidman October 2009
Over the past 30 years, Brian's been a real force to be reckoned with in Scottish music. It was, however, as long ago as 1969 that he formed Battlefield Band, the long-lasting ensemble whom he finally left in 1990 in order to pursue solo projects and his wider interest in the Scottish disapora through writing. And yet, although Brian's status, as performer, songwriter, composer, producer and musical director, has always seemed assured, his actual profile has in the main seemed almost obstinately low-key (that well-worn phrase "hiding his light under a bushel" comes to mind again). Extensive touring and recording commitments in support of other artists and their projects have resulted in only sporadic releases under his own name as singer/instrumentalist/songwriter over the past twenty years.
The Baltic Tae Byzantium is a labour-of-love, long-in-gestation project that has only now finally seen the light of day, with its individual tracks having been recorded over the lengthy span of the past six years or so. It's best regarded as the sequel to 1991's Back O' The North Wind (an audio-visual show whose theme was the emigration of six individual Scots to North America), this time concerning itself with the influence of the Scots in the opposite geographical direction (Europe). It comes in the form of a kind of suite comprising seven original songs and four instrumental tracks, with virtually everything you hear having been composed by Brian himself. He's unrivalled among contemporary Scottish songwriters in his grasp of, and response to, history both on the personal and national scales, and his stirring tales of real personalities (both known and unknown), while copiously researched, are abundantly truthful, insightful and often deeply moving. I can only describe the whole sequence as a mighty achievement.
The songs are without exception worthy successors to those already widely celebrated entries in Brian's canon like No Gods & Precious Few Heroes, The Yew Tree, The Lads O' The Fair and The Snows Of France And Holland. These new songs tellingly incorporate Brian's special trademarks: invariably anthemic in nature, with passionate, often outspoken sentiments and his own intense, spirited vocal delivery matched perfectly by clear-sighted and ingenious musical arrangements that display the keenest ear for variety of texture as well as mood and pace and maintain a listener's interest without ever distracting from their powerful lyrics.
Selecting some highlights is a task that proves difficult, such is the quality of all the songs, but I'd probably single out the rousing title song, also The Holland Trade (the tale of the 15th century commercial links between the Scots and the Dutch), A Far North Land (the story of John Knox and Mary, Queen Of Scots and their inextricable links to Europe), and, arguably the most fascinating of all, Bring The Lassie Home, which proudly tells his father's own life story, focusing on his courtship and marriage to a Styrian lady. This latter track is poignantly followed by True To The Forest (the very title being a translation of Brian's mother's name), an affectionate and quite gorgeous little tune which ably reconciles the sound of the zither (here represented by an autoharp) with traditional Scottish elements.
The remainder of the instrumental selections are wonderful too: Scotus is a simple modal tune replete with the feel of antiquity, in tribute to the founders and followers of the Irish Christian faith from both sides of the Irish Sea, whereas the livelier "soldiers and merchants" set of reels pays respects to historical personages including Brian's paternal grandfather.
Musicianship couldn't be bettered – in addition to Brian's enviable ability to play an indecent number of instruments brilliantly (from fiddles to concertina and hurdy gurdy, mandos and guitars to percussion), we also get to savour the talents of Dick Gaughan, a veritable plethora of other impressive contributions both instrumental (pipes, whistles, harp, tenor banjo, harmonica, soprano sax, percussion) and vocal (courtesy of Sylvia Barnes and Patsy Seddon). Presentation is (even by Greentrax standards) truly exemplary, with a scrupulous attention to detail in the booklet notes that in every way reflects a comparable quality in the musical settings. Only one very minor gripe - the track titles on the rear box cover are rather difficult to read (white against the pale background photo). But otherwise, this is a thoroughly appealing and satisfying release on every count.
David Kidman March 2010
This contemporary acoustic duo, who both study at the Birmingham Conservatoire and are in their fourth year on the BMus course, started playing together as a duo just before Easter 2007 and were finalists in 2008's Radio 2 Young Folk Awards. This, their debut CD, is an unusual release, at any rate in the context of the trend among so many of today's young performers for making their name reworking traditional material, for Light Up All The Beacons consists exclusively of entirely self-penned material, being a collection of thoughtful and intelligent songs (by Jack) and a couple of instrumentals composed by Charlie. The songs, though often distinctly personal in nature, are mature, thought-provoking and refreshingly devoid of archetypal studenty navel-gazing. Jack's vocal delivery is individual and confident, though some may find it just a touch abrasive on occasion; his guitar style, in contrast, is deft and imaginatively melodic, whereas Charlie's rich-toned violin accompaniment is very much to the fore while clearly innovative in its approach to phrasing and contour. The duo's music is pretty original and not easy to describe, at least in terms of ready reference points, but there's no denying that their debut is definitely brimful of interest and promise, although on initial hearing it may be judged a trifle elusive, even exclusive. I suspect this album will turn out to be a bit of a grower, one to perhaps lay aside and return to in a month or two with fresh ears, when it will doubtless yield even greater satisfaction.
www.myspace.com/jackmcneillandcharlieheys
David Kidman March 2009
Born in Bradford to Irish-Polish parentage, McNiff cites Italian leftist songwriter Fabrizio De Andre as a major influence (he even references him in opening track Mountain Song), but his nasal vocals and strummed Americana tinted songs are more likely to have you thinking early Dylan or Arlo Guthrie.
His melodies are pleasantly catchy enough but it's in the lyrics that his real strengths lie. The poetic images of Howling Moon's 'honey wind' or the Bus of Tears that 'only goes once every seven years', the painterly description of the landscape in Seaside Song, Tombola's story of a raid on a Nazi HQ in Northern Italy by the SAS ad local resistance fighters and Students Of Love with its divorced couple re-establishing civilised relationships a year on.
Many of his wistfully romantic songs read like short story capsules and, like the Yorkshire set Hometown and Kissing In The Wind, leave you wanting to know more of the characters or the background to the events and scenes he's describing. If the music doesn't take off, he's got a real future in the publishing world.
Mike Davies September 2011
I reviewed his second album, Nobody's Son, for Netrhythms some time back, but never heard his Off The Rails debut and never got a promo copy of the third, Another Man. So, originally put together to introduce him to America, this compilation and its four new recordings is a useful catch-up for me and an enticing primer for newcomers.
Born in Bradford of Irish-Polish stock, a graduate in French and Russian, and a former cross-country runner for Yorkshire, McNiff is quite open about his influences, basically early Dylan, Woody Guthrie and Ernest Hemingway. I don''t think he sounds much like Ernest, but you can certainly hear Bob's nasal tones in his vocals, guitar playing and (especially on Blow Up The Bridge, the only number from the second album) songwriting. Lost My Way, one of the new cuts, throws up hints of John Prine while Woody's Annie Hall from his debut suggests a young Eric Anderson and In Our Time harks to Heart of Saturday Night Tom Waits without the gravel.
I can't say I'm too much taken with gypsy folk stomper new recording Bella Ciao, a trad anti-fascist song from WWII sung in Italian, but the Simon & Garfunkel like Pilgrim Soul and a lovely strummed Dylanesque live version of hymn chestnut Hard Times are fine additions to his library.
Taken from his debut, Soho ably underscores his nimble dexterity on the fretwork with strong echoes of John Fahey while the slow brooding defiant title track from his sophomore release is another welcome inclusion that will hopefully bolster the number of people out there waiting for his overdue fourth studio album proper.
Mike Davies March 2008
Mary's abnormally fine CD The Holland Handkerchief was a highlight of my listening year back in 2004, so it was in a heightened state of both eagerness and trepidation that I approached her latest offering. I needn't have worried in the slightest, for Petticoat Loose is another exceptional release. Two years in the making, its essence is represented by, and crystallised in, the four principal strands of Mary's artistic endeavours: her close associations with luminaries of the traditional music world, her work at the National University Of Ireland, Galway, her ongoing musical collaboration with former Dervish multi-instrumentalist Seamie O'Dowd and her lifelong friendship with poet, playwright and broadcaster Vincent Woods. These strands, though on the surface quite diverse, are well unified here by Mary's marvellous singing voice: supremely strong, full of spirit and passion and an intense love of the songs she sings, whatever their provenance. Having said that, Mary benefits much from the inventive nature of the settings given to the songs, which range from the epic layerings of Cúmha (Parting Sorrow) and Caoine Sheáin Mhic Searraigh to the altogether simpler, ungainly rusticity of the Romanian drinking song Lumé, Lumé (accompanied by the galumphing strings of the quartet ConTempo). Highlights are provided by the pair of songs collected by Stiofán O'Cheilleachair from the area of Drumkeerin where Mary grew up, which are both blessed with imaginative arrangements by Brendan O'Regan, while two further songs have an intriguing choral setting: a beautiful, small-scale-harmonised rendition of Barbara Allen contrasting with an ambitious treatment of Lowlands Away on which Mary's voice is surrounded by the surging waves of sound produced by NUIG's Orbsen Choir. A further standout track is Mary's solo unaccompanied rendition of the traditional narrative My Generous Lover, while another unexpected success is Mary's "strangely comforting" cover of Leonard Cohen's Sisters Of Mercy. The three Vincent Woods songs couldn't be more contrasted too: Sanctuary is a poignant childhood reminiscence, while Kiss The Moon's light-country-bluegrassy setting belies the personal and moving nature of its story and the album's title track playfully makes use of a bluesy kind of jig form to convey both the carefree abandon and the ominous intoxicating allure of the strayed woman of folklore. If I must be picky, the album's two least successful tracks for me are Wild Mountain Side, where Mary's very strength of vocal timbre appears to hector the listener a touch, and Victor Jara, whose almost jaunty accompaniment works against the emotive power of Mary's voice. But these criticisms are very much comparative, as the album works so well as a whole and the rest of it is so fine. No lover of good singing can be disappointed with Mary's performance here, while another definite selling-point must be her excellent and illustrious support crew, which includes Mairtín O'Connor, Cathal Hayden and the aforementioned Mr. O'Dowd (all of whom appeared on The Holland Handkerchief), with this time additionally (amongst others) Frankie Gavin, Gerry (Banjo) O'Connor, Garry O'Briain and Johnny Ringo McDonagh.
www.marymcpartlan.com
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman
There's something not quite right here. Here's a CD by a singer I've never previously heard, who has one of the finest voices I've heard, so where the hell has Mary been hiding? Even on the (wonderfully textured) cover shot she's peering out a mite sternly, half-hidden amidst long stalks of grass. Well I'm the ignorant one it seems, for apparently she's well known as a music producer in television and theatre for some years, and The Holland Handkerchief is her first record. For it, she's gathered around her some of the finest Irish musicians one could wish for (including Paddy Keenan, Cathal Hayden, Mairtín O'Connor, Liam Kelly, Tom Morrow, and not least Dervish's Shamie O'Dowd), and comes up with what amounts to something of a masterwork that somehow manages to straddle the uneasy divide that has caused many a talented artiste to make one compromise too many. In other words, this CD should appeal to the enthusiast for classy folk performance and the lover of good songs well sung, while achieving that elusive element of mainstream accessibility that's as often reviled as appreciated for its skilful attainment. Mary's voice has a well nigh unique combination of qualities - a passionate maturity, a wholly natural directness of expression, and a distinct earthiness over a wide compass, embodying at once a great strength and a great tenderness. Her repertoire, at least as evidenced on this CD, includes a fair smattering of what one might call relatively familiar material that's lately in need of reasoned rejuvenation. Which is just what Mary provides, aided considerably by the production and arranging skills of P. J. Curtis and Shamie O'Dowd respectively. Standouts for me were the opening title track, a mournfully atmospheric version ofPeat Bog Soldiers, a fine and unerringly well-paced unaccompanied rendition of Lord Gregory, a joyous cajun-style revisit of Thom Moore's Saw You Running and a superb three-part rendition (with Mary Staunton and Martina Goggin) of Slieve Gallion Braes that finishes the album in perfection with its blazing economy of execution. And even the jazzy swing of Mary's take on Aura Lee (done to that hoary old Love Me Tender tune which I've hated forever) didn't alienate me! Yes, I'm convinced this album is destined to be regarded as a classic.
www.copperplatedistribution.com
David Kidman
It's good to see this title included among the first batch of anniversary reissues of selected LPs from the illustrious Topic back-catalogue, for there's no question that Belfast's McPeake Family were one of the most successful of the groups playing Irish traditional music within the 1960s folk revival. Theirs was a distinctive sound, based not on the customary fiddle and whistle but instead on the quite specific - and novel and unusual - combination of uilleann pipes, harp and harmony singing.
The McPeakes first captured the attention of English audiences in the early 1950s as a result of Peter Kennedy bringing two uilleann pipers, Francis McPeake and his son Frank, over to perform at the Royal Albert Hall; the duo soon then became a trio with the addition of second son James, a harp player. At the time of the Topic recording sessions, however (the winter of 1962-63), the McPeake Family group consisted of that original trio augmented by a second trio comprising Frank's daughter Kathleen (another harpist) and son Francis and their cousin Tommy McCrudden, both pipers. The sessions spawned an LP and an EP, and the four tracks of the latter (which include the celebrated song that gives this disc its title) are used to neatly top and tail the former on this reissue. All the McPeakes complement their instrumental skills with fine singing, and some of their harmonies are quite edgy indeed. The songs include repertoire that has since become standard, including The Verdant Braes Of Skreen and Slieve Gallon Brae, as well as versions of Cock Robin, A Bucket Of The Mountain Dew and Jug Of Punch; performances are vital and imaginative. Pick of the handful of purely instrumental selections would have to be the stirring piping on The Lament Of Aughrim, but there's plenty of spirit in the various reels and hornpipes too.
As far as documentation goes, the sleeve notes for both original releases are reproduced in the enclosed booklet, although an amusing error has crept in whereby I Know My Love (which James sings here to his own harp accompaniment) is listed as I Know Where I'm Going (oops!). A very welcome reissue nevertheless.
David Kidman December 2009
Catherine-Ann MacPhee - Suilair Ais: Looking Back (Greentrax)
Cathy-Ann's widely regarded as one of the finest of today's Gaelic singers, who around six years ago had appeared on the groundbreaking Gaelic Women CD and the ensuing Celtic Connections concert in 2000, and this is her fourth album release for Greentrax (her very first, the highly-acclaimed Canan Nan Gaidheal, appeared back in 1987, only a year after the label itself was launched!). It's a lovely collection featuring many of Cathy-Ann's all-time favourite Gaelic songs, and a CD which, although predominantly gentle in character, betrays hidden depths on close listening. Like her chosen accompanists, in fact - just a glance at the names of whom should give you a good idea: Tony McManus (guitar), Wendy Stewart (clarsach), Iain MacDonald (flute and small pipes), Ewen Vernal (bass) and Neil Martin (cello). They provide finely-textured backing tracks that delicately and elegantly frame Cathy-Ann's outstanding singing, and the overall effect is immensely soothing without being soporific. In this respect, it's probably invidious to attempt to single out specific tracks, although I admit to particularly enjoying the triptych at the centre of the CD, which begins with a medley of A Ghaoil Leig Dhachaidh and Leannan Mo Ghaoil (track 7), where Cathy-Ann invests her performance with the potent memory of a wonderful evening concert she gave in Edinburgh, continuing with the weaving counterpoint of electric and acoustic guitars on Mo Chridhe Trom's Mi Seòladh, and ending with the delicious lilt of the unaccompanied Gaol An t-Seòladair. The artistic character of the album in pure sound terms is carried on through into the cover design, which features a beautiful painting by Cathy-Ann's young daughter Mairead MacDonald. This is a delightfully intimate, yet immensely accessible CD, by which I mean accessible even to those who think Gaelic singing is not for them - and at least part of this accessibility is due to the uniformly sensitive and tastefully-crafted accompaniments, which I here emphasise at the risk of denigrating Cathy-Ann's superb singing, the quality and stature of which, though exceptional and enviably consistent, should in no way be taken for granted either.
David Kidman
The songs evoke headily ethereal landscapes while dealing in what for yer average songwriter would be decidedly obscure or esoteric subject-matter: Tarot card illustrator Pamela Colman Smith (The Lovers), the sufferings of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo (Aquí Me Pinté Yo), lucid dreaming (Western, with its trance-like spoken passages), the writings of Carlos Castaneda (the title track, which also integrates influences from Native American music). Eastern drones are used to mesmeric effect on Pipe And Tabor (which posits the theory that the Great God Pan still lives among us) and Kathakali Boy (inspired by the elaborate Indian classical dance-cum-story-play of that name), while Mama's take on the Biblical story of Salome bewitchingly utilises mariachi trumpet within a hallucinatory and chaotic swirling dervish of Dancing Girl. The flamboyant, devil-may-care insistence of opening track The Fool Of Spring is a bit like the Roches on speed, while further contrasts are provided by the disturbed awakening of Liquid Sunshine and the gentle ambient tinkling-bell-adorned idyll of At The Waterside, and the bonus track is a fresh update of Zoë's 1991 hit single Sunshine On A Rainy Day – mildly disposable perhaps (a bit like the Hole In My Shoe that's still letting in water, I guess!), but it's fit for purpose as a desirable encore here.
The instrumental backings are clear-textured, with Zoë's rippling ukulele and classical guitar in delicate counterpoint with Sarah's open-tuned guitar while further delectable backing is provided by Tiffany Bryant's flute and Andy Jarvis's intricate percussion (and occasional accordion, trumpet or harmonium). These various elements add to the wayward, trippy vibe, but (and this bit's hardest to pin down!) there's also a curiously spontaneous sense of control to the whole proceedings, a feeling of considered arrangement that's conscious but not self-conscious – all of which adds to the appeal of the music. Even so, there's occasionally a nagging little feeling that the whole is less than the sum of its parts, with individual tracks very persuasive yet the total effect a touch too ragbag to be entirely convincing. But after much deliberation, and despite superficially underwhelming first impressions and occasional reservations about the easy-trendy Glastonbury vibe and flawed vision of some of the lyrics, I've grown to really like the endearing music produced by Mama's fruitful, if idiosyncratic creative partnership.
David Kidman July 2009
You might recall that last year, Sarah managed belatedly to re-release her fine debut disc, 1997's When Two Lovers Meet, to be greeted with even wider acclaim than on its first appearance, for its timeless properties: the gently sensuous singing, quiet lyricism and tasteful arrangements, which I felt had a certain kinship with the output of Niamh Parsons. Hardly surprising, given the time Sarah had spent in Ireland, immersing herself in its cultural heritage. Now safely Cornwall-based, however, in her (American) mother's former home, Sarah has taken stock and decided to revisit the Southern Appalachian songs and tunes that she learned during her childhood, to many of which she had been introduced by her mother. It's clear from her quietly expressive and supremely affecting performances that these songs have powerful emotional resonances for Sarah, and on this new CD she takes us on a cathartic spiritual journey through this material. It's a lovingly produced (and incidentally, beautifully packaged) release, containing several standout tracks and not a weak link anywhere in earshot. Sarah leads off the CD with a marvellously atmospheric and idiomatic The Chickens They Are Crowing (Peggy Seeger's seminal 1958 recording of which she wore out on her Mickey Mouse record-player!), following this with a delicious rendition of West Virginia Boys (with deftly cheeky percussion accompaniment from Liam Bradley) and the disc's sole instrumental cut, a version of Shady Grove backed by Gerry O'Beirne on tiple and guitars. Although Sarah openly admits her cover of Ode To Billie Joe can't hope to match Bobbie G's original, it's a pretty authentic stab, as is her attempt at emulating Rory Block's muscular treatment of J.K. Alwood's Uncloudy Day. The disc's two acappella tracks provide definite highlights: there's a well-turned rendition of a song Sarah had learned directly from her mother, a North Carolina variant of The Wagoner's Lad, but even finer is her spellbinding vocal duet with Liam Bradley on the sacred harp hymn Wondrous Love that forms the disc's centrepiece. It's also impossible to fault Sarah's well-judged take on East Virginia (based on the 1960 Joan Baez recording of Jean Ritchie's version), which benefits additionally from Máire Breatnach's wonderful guest fiddle contribution. Máire also appears on Only An Emotion, the first of two original songs by Sarah that complete the disc's tasty menu; the second of these, appropriately entitled Last Song, closes the disc in affectionate childhood reminiscence mode. This is a truly lovely record: it proves a thoroughly delightful listening experience that arises completely naturally out of a deeply satisfying personal artistic statement.
David Kidman October 2008
You can be easily forgiven for not having heard of Sarah... for this CD is a belated reissue of Sarah's widely-acclaimed debut, which was first released on a purely limited basis in Ireland in 1997.
It's a quiet, uniformly lyrical album, characterised by timeless, fine-toned, warm and gently sensuous singing and thoughtful, sparkling yet understated guitar work. The simple unadorned physical beauty of Sarah herself, as captured in the booklet's photographic portraits, is mirrored by the spare beauty of the music on the disc: 47 minutes of pure delight, entirely embodying Sarah's personal philosophy that "a soft approach can still be a source of joy, intensity, even wildness". Indeed, the two lovers of the title could well be interpreted as vocal and instrumental performance, for their marriage is at once perfectly controlled and perfectly natural, both in conception and in execution.
The focus is always on Sarah's singing or playing, and she's blessed with unobtrusive and appealing settings which are a model of intelligence and sensitive restraint. In fact the overall feel of the album reminded me of the work of Niamh Parsons in that respect, and it came as no surprise to find her name among the credits (she duets with Sarah on her fabulous closing rendition of The Parting Glass, which done to an unusual tune, a little reminiscent of Quiet Joys Of Brotherhood, which she learnt from the singing of Len Graham) along with piper John McSherry, bassist Trevor Hutchinson, cellist Kevin Murphy, fiddler Colm McGaughey, keyboard player Rod McVey and producer Gerry O'Beirne who pitches in with backing guitars and ukulele. The complement of the album is seven songs and three instrumental tracks, the latter rather surprisingly providing highlights of the set with richness in sparsity.
The songs include fetching variants of Sprig Of Thyme, the title track (also known as The Banks Of The Lee) and When A Man's In Love, also one of Sarah's own compositions (Charlie's Gone Home) which despite its "folkiness" still feels like the cuckoo in the nest (although it doesn't compromise the mood of the album in any way). Sarah sings unaccompanied on just one song, the macaronic-form Táim Cortha Ó Bheith Im' Aonar Im' Luí. Finally, the good news is that Sarah's just moved to Cornwall and plans to release a new CD next year. For the time being, though, this treasure of an album is now available easily in the UK through Proper Distribution and by the good auspices of Gael Linn.
www.sarahmcquaid.com
www.myspace.com/sarahmcquaid
David Kidman August 2007
A decade and four album on from his Mercury Music Prize nominated debut, McRae's not parlayed critical acclaim into commercial success, but each successive release has seen him stretching out within his genre parameters and largely shaking off the Nick Drake comparisons that first greeted him.
This, his fifth album, may still lack the killer song or memorable hook that will attract wider, mainstream audiences, but it does find him painting his literate songs of bruised hearts, distances between and troubled souls from a colourful musical palette.
The opening Still I Love You, for example, has him accompanied on banjo, A Is For is a 52 second clarinet led instrumental from the gypsy quarter that leads into the acoustic raggy waltzing Won't Lie where Django meets Brubeck in some klezmer dive and Told My Troubles To The River is a clattering percussive and discordant piano affair with echoey gospel blues toned vocals. Then the turbulent Me & Stetson is all nervy piano chords, brass, gospel handclaps rhythms and desert moan voice.
He's not forsaken the simple melancholic pleasures of unadorned acoustic guitar and fragile, hurt stained vocals, indeed, building to a sonorous swell of brass, the six minute American Spirit may be one of the finest songs he's produced from that blueprint. Can't Find You picks out the weight of loneliness with minimal guitar notes, and, with its meditative piano and yearning delivery, Out Of The Walls conjures thoughts of a furrowed brow Thom Yorke.
Lyrically, the songs are shot through with darkness and resignation. Summer of John Wayne alone finds him singing of getting old, loss, and things that slip through the cracks in time, while elsewhere there's talk of "sundialling my days away" (Please), blood (Me & Stetson), swimming from the shore "till I can't swim no more" (American Spirit) and, on Won't Lie, of easing the pain of deserted lovers with a knife.
After such shadows, it's a relief to have the album end on a more positive note, for while piano, forlorn harmonica and violin enrobe the terrific country-folk flecked Fifteen Miles Downriver and McRae is still in reflective, cracked voice mode, the lyrics at least see him putting "distance 'tween you and me", refusing to show his tears and, after swimming against the tide, finding the peace of letting the wind blow him where it will. It would be nice to think he might be taking a few more devotees with him on the journey.
www.tommcrae.com
www.myspace.com/tommcrae
Mike Davies February 2010
Tom McRae - Just Like Blood (DB)
His Mercury Prize nominated debut saw McRae enter the new millennium garlanded with a sheaf of new Nick Drake comparisons, largely down to the minimal, folksy settings, wistful voice and melancholic songs. Some years on he's back, his sophomore album, Just Like named from a Simon Armitage poem about self-harm, lone guitar now surrounded by strings, piano, banjo, organ, percussion and assorted sonics. The voice though remains a bruised sweet weary murmur, reminiscent of Thom Yorke's more strung out moments or Jeff Buckley at his most achingly fragile and his songs still concern loss, despair and life and love under siege.
As per the title, images of blood crop up throughout, as does water (liquid or frozen) on songs that regularly seem to be about lovers disappearing or trying to hold to them while simultaneously wrestling with issues of commitment. These come in a variety of waves. Crashing through the distorted guitars of Mermaid Blues, hushed and fragile Walking 2 Hawaii, whirling around the bitter recriminations of Karaoke Soul, rippling over wood chimes on the opening A Day Like Today, tinged with alt-country rumbles on Stronger Than Dirt where he defiantly refuses to crumble along with the relationship.
On the gently undulating Ghost of A Shark his guitar sounds speaks Leonard Cohen while his voice croons like a suicidal choirboy as he sings "burn my clothes, bury my fears you will never know I was here."
On Overthrown with its hints of Lennon he stands half in sunlight, half in shade, on Line Of Fire he's a former lover's shadow stalker, and on the devastating closing Human Remains he uses the conceit of a photograph burned at the edge as a resigned observation that while the image remains unchanged everything it represents, physically and emotionally fades. Yet for all these thoughts of pain, misery and revenge, he somehow rises above the drowning flood, the pack ice of the heart, finding a glimmer of air in the romantic notion that "I can sing you out of this." Vein glorious indeed.
Mike Davies
Aside from her recent immersion in the Darwin Song Project, cellist and singer Rachael's spent the best part of the past four years tucked away (in the nicest possible way!) within the mighty elftet Bellowhead, who themselves have taken English folk music by the scruff of its neck and not only revitalised its presentation but also thrust it firmly into the dance arenas and trendy places of the kingdom. Working so closely and intensely within that kind of environment is bound to have inspired Rachael to create adventurous and exuberant music of her own, and her debut solo record certainly lives up to expectations while coming up with some surprising and effective answers to the age-old question of how to arrange and present traditional song in order to breathe new life into it. Folk-rock it ain't, but it folks and it rocks!
Much of the credit here, however, must go to the extraordinarily cohesive trio of musicians (keyboardist James Peacock, bassist Jonathan Proud and drummer Adam Sinclair) with whom Rachael has recorded this CD, for their own backgrounds (in jazz, soul and funk) have clearly formed a major influence on Rachael's own musical approach to the songs as well as on the actual arrangements adopted. The darkly driven sound of the core trio (plus Rachael's cello and fiddle) is embellished throughout the album with bold stabs of additional colour from guests including Julien Batten (piano accordion), Tom Oakes (flute, bansuri), Sam Sweeney (fiddle, viola), a punchy three-piece brass section and backing vocalists Emily Portman and Richard Sutton. Even so, Adam Sinclair's excellent production ensures textures don't become cluttered, and Rachael's stunning singing always shines through strong and clear – this is a great chance to appreciate just how characterful a singer she is, in fact, and she has a playful and individual way with expressiveness that's really attractive, whether recounting tales of love lost and won, intrigues and mischiefs or deeper sorrow.
Particularly successful in their intelligent innovation, I thought, were Rachael's bold (if occasionally quite cheeky!) takes on The Fisherman, The Gardener and The Highwayman Outwitted. Some of the treatments (like Maid On The Shore) take a Bellowhead-style funk line with their syncopated get-on-yer-feet rhythms, whereas others (eg My Johnny Was A Shoemaker) develop their strong percussive content outside of the basic riffs that drive the melody along. Whenever you start getting the sneaking feeling you've probably heard an idea or gambit before (as on the introduction to Captain Ward maybe), Rachael and her crew pull the rug out and take things quite effortlessly into a different musical arena. Rachael's more introspective, piano-led treatment of Shepherd Lad appealingly evokes a kind of creative conjunction of the Unthanks and Kate Rusby, while the epic ballad of Miles Weatherill builds from melancholy chamber-jazz to a strident choppy conclusion.
Finally, the disc's extra-musical presentation (courtesy of The Shee's Lillias Kinsman-Blake) is most attractive too, reflecting and retaining the uncluttered but well-defined (within traditional concepts) nature of the music within (who needs over-ornate design and frustratingly unreadable artwork?). Rachael's surely triumphed on this album, managing to inject something really fresh and exciting into traditional song - but I do slightly wonder whether she's left no tricks in the bag for a followup.
David Kidman August 2009
Ralph's first album of all-new original material since Red Sky (all of ten years ago) is of course keenly anticipated – so let me allay any fears straightaway by stating categorically that it has been worth every minute of the long wait. Avid followers of Ralph's website blog for the current year, having already become familiar with the ongoing progress of this major new work, will already have some conception of what the songs might sound like, but nothing can entirely prepare us for that first eager playthrough of the new record in all its glory. And we find on that crucial first playthrough both an instant appeal and a definite feeling that there will be plenty of "growing" in the plays ahead – which is exactly as things should be.
Musically, this new collection takes in an array of musical influences and idioms, from folk and blues, tex-mex and cajun to soulful balladry – but such flavours are always kept at the service of the song and never gratuitously applied. Thematically, this latest set encompasses many of Ralph's familiar preoccupations, but imbued with this writer's uniquely personal slant and his own very special kind of poetic inspiration. The passage of time in the context of life's journey inevitably figures large, most obviously in the troubadourial title song (intended also as a tribute to Jesse Fuller), while freedom and youthful self-discovery are viewed from the perspective of an older, wiser man on the easy-rolling, almost Paxton-esque Walk Into The Morning.
The nature of fleeting chance (regret at the road not taken) is contemplated on The Girl On The Jersey Ferry (inspired by both Robert Frost and Citizen Kane, and adorned with a wonderful, subtle fin-de-siècle-style string quartet arrangement and almost a kindof Buddy Holly feel to its simple melody), while the elegiac nostalgia of Lantern Slides (retelling his own mother's recollection of a trip to her grandparents' home near Brackley) has a potent ring of authenticity in its elegant, delicate poetry and is beautifully unsentimentally managed, with an enchanting melody that evokes what Ralph calls "the hypnotic state of unknown memory".
Several songs, though they undoubtedly function as deliberate homages to key inspirations of Ralph's, also operate on many other levels, such is Ralph's skill in counterpointing ideas with emotional responses and reminiscences. For instance, Reverend Thunder (Blind Faith), while on the most obvious level a brilliant stylistic tribute to iconic gospel-bluesman Rev Gary Davis, also examines through its percipient lyric the concept and contradictions of faith. On the surface, A Kiss In The Rain narrates the folk-myth surrounding Anne Briggs' teaching of the folksong Blackwaterside to Bert Jansch, but it also celebrates the very concept of the folk tradition and the sharing of music. And the Guthrie-esque Around The Wild Cape Horn, ostensibly a genial adventure yarn espousing Ralph's Wanderlust, also explores the potentially contradictory issues of the pursuit of danger and the love of life. Arguably even more impressive is The Ghost Of Robert Johnson, which is less a biographical essay than an atmospheric exploration of the long-reaching effect and meaning of his music through the emotions he outlines and defines in his songs… a special mention for some tremendous support playing on this track from The Bucket Boys' Tim Renwick (could've sworn that electric guitar part was the ghost of Richard Thompson!) and Steve Turner (some stunning slide work).
On most of the songs here, in fact, the spirit of place informs and inspires deeper philosophical reflections – for instance, Cannabis Creek is a kind of parable that examines envy and a man's desire to destroy the very thing he desires most; then there's A Sunny Day, a deliciously unpretentious chansonnier-style encapsulation (sung in both English and French) of the joy of the first day of spring. Rosalinda is a bit of a curiosity in that it belies its upbeat tex-mex setting and bittersweet melody in analysing emotional turmoil - yet it packs quite a punch in doing so.
Finally we come to a couple of tracks which don't quite fit (yet?). The London Apprentice, which opens the disc, ponders the contradictions of the city, the ever-changing nature of our knowledge of its "map", and posits that we're unable to ever know it all; musically, though, it (oddly) inescapably reminds me of a certain award-winning Martin Simpson song given a jaunty Geordie gait… And The Break Of The Union is a complex song (using marital discord as a metaphor for the separation of national states) with a complex and ambitious setting (involving an orchestra arranged and conducted by Maartin Allcock); inexplicably there seems something uneasy, even a touch artificial, about this opus, perhaps more in terms of its sound-world than its concept or ideas, and this even though its structure succeeds in invoking the classic epic ballad.
Having made those points, I'd still say that Somewhere Down The Road is a very strong album even by Ralph's own high standards, and may well in time come to be regarded as one of his best ever. The writing is that of a proven master craftsman, informed by many decades of life experiences, and there's no sense of treading water or hasty regurgitation of past glories: quite the opposite in fact. And the writing of this batch of new songs has been a catalyst for Ralph to get down to writing even more. All his decades of musical experience have clearly informed his meticulous approach to song-setting, whereby the listener's interest in the incidental detail is maintained.
The selective contributions of a number of other musicians (including Chris Parkinson, Dave Quinn and John Dowling) are chosen with great care to convey the flavour of the individual lyrics and moods. For invariably, Ralph's skill at lyric-setting extends far beyond, and significantly deeper than, any purely basic (or superficially literal-pictorial) reflection of his lyrics. And I'm glad too that Ralph resisted the temptation to overlay his carefully-judged musical settings with any ambient effects or extraneous distractions. Maybe one or two of the songs seem a verse or two too long; but then, as Ralph himself acknowledges candidly in his online journal, "This is a frequent problem for me. A basic idea slowly becomes an epic and impossible to keep short" - anyway, who can reasonably complain when the quality of poetic invention is so consistent.?
All in all, Somewhere Down The Road is magnificent, and a real triumph, not least in that it serves to unify the strands of Ralph's musical and philosophical psyche in a thoroughly convincing, both thought-provoking and entertaining way. And the packaging – containing complete lyrics and an appealing design, courtesy of Peter Thaine, that's fully contiguous with his work on Ralph's deservedly best-selling Time's Poems volume - is exemplary.
David Kidman October 2010
Affairs Of The Heart is a thoughtfully compiled, thematic collection of Ralph's love songs. It's beautifully and economically packaged in an elegant little cardboard box with fresh and attractive artwork, its enclosed booklet incorporating a mildly interpretive note on each of the 56 songs together with lyrics to just five of the songs, also some photos and a short essay by Rory McGrath. Just as Ralph is so much more than a singer-songwriter, so too can the word "love" be widely interpreted: not least in that love defines humanity, and humanity is a key ingredient in every one of Ralph's songs. Neat!
This new collection manages to be both exhaustive and lovingly sequenced, and also refreshingly non-predictable (eg. no Streets Of London), each of the four discs forming a satisfying self-contained programme that's also dutifully complementary to the others. The whole collection leads off with the touchingly simple First Song and concludes with the beautiful bleak Terminus (one of two early compositions that Ralph has re-recorded for this occasion). In between these lovely bookends, we zip back and forth in time, being struck anew at the remarkable consistency of Ralph's poetic and musical vision through his take on love in all its guises, moods and meanings. Even the "standard" angle (affairs of the heart = romance) has inspired some of Ralph's greatest songs: for instance, The Girl From The Hiring Fair, which takes pride of place at the head of Disc 3, a CD which then goes on to provide what is arguably the set's finest overall sequence.
Tracks for the set have been drawn from all phases of Ralph's long career, with no fewer than nine tracks taken from the relatively recent, quite brilliant Red Sky album and one (the superb When They Were Young) from the autobiographical release As Far As I Can Tell.
The cynics among you might question the rationale for buying Affairs Of The Heart, since the long-time Ralph fan will already have all these tracks on the shelves; but the reality is that Affairs Of The Heart, being such a well-programmed release, enables new perspectives to be gained both on individual songs and on Ralph's work as a whole, and thus proves an eminently desirable acquisition on its own special terms.
David Kidman April 2010
Jacqui McShee's Pentangle - At the Little Theatre (Park Records PRKCD53)You want crashing guitars? You want angry young men hollering at the top of their rasping voices that their baby done them wrong? You do? Then I suggest you turn the page, 'cos you ain't gonna find 'em here! What "At the Little Theatre" does give the listener is cool, understated class; a shimmering, glistening, ripple-free pond calling invitingly on a hot summer day. Lending it only half an ear you get the impression of pure ease but pay a little closer attention and it becomes obvious that sweat is being broken here.
There's barely a moment of this 72-minute live recording in which the awesomely inventive percussion of Gerry Conway and the sinuously athletic bass-playing of Alan Thomson aren't working to telling effect in the background or, on occasion, right up front.
Opening with the traditional "She Moved Through the Fair", the tone of the album is immediately set. McShee's sensual vocal takes the limelight with subtle colouring provided by the keyboards of Foss Patterson and Thomson's bass.Conway's cymbals then shimmer like the gentlest of waves washing on to the sand. At around the four-minute mark, Jerry Underwood's echoing soprano sax heralds the seamless move into track two, the heavily atmospheric "Jabalpur" which positively reeks of the kasbah. Insistently pushed along by the drums, it's not difficult to imaging Conway's contorted face reflecting the concentration he pours into his every down-stroke.
"That's the Way It Is" will strike a chord of recognition in every parent of a teenager. Introducing it to the audience at Chipping Norton Theatre, she says: "This is a song about my son when he was about 18 - he used to sort of grunt, then". Over a choppy melody she then voices the contradictory frustrations of trying to love and understand a child trying to make his way into adulthood. Even the devil, she says "would sit on the shelf and then throw in the towel". "I've Got A Feeling" delves back into earlier days of the Pentangle story. Possessed of a light jazz swing, it gives each band member a chance to show us his chops, with a particularly tasty bass solo from Thomson just about edging the contributions of Underwood and Patterson.
McShee's voice is a wonderful instrument that graces and enhances every track here but is shown to stunning advantage on "The Bonny Greenwood Side" on which she is accompanied only by the hand-drums of husband Conway and some ethereal, choir-like keyboard layering from Patterson. And, showing she can handle other genres as well as traditional folk and band compositions, the album's rounded off with the standard "We'll Be Together Again" on which McShee's smokey vocal is backed by late-night jazz club piano, Conway's lightly brushed snare and a rich, warm tenor solo from Underwood. Mmm, nice! The Pentangle of old were never afraid to experiment with traditional folk songs and, although McShee may be the sole remaining original member, the current band's instrumental line-up and fearless arrangements are doing a fine job of keeping that old Pentangle fire blazing brightly.
www.folkcorp.co.uk/pent/welcome.htm
Fred Hall
This is an unusual but compelling release from Ralph. The idea for this project sprung from Ralph's tour of UK bookshops just a few years ago to give readings publicising his two volumes of autobiography (Angel Laughter and Summer Lightning). Ralph's live readings were enhanced by his interpolation of performances of selected songs illustrating episodes depicted in the passages being read, which enabled his listeners to gain additional insight into the songs. Thus tried and tested, the same presentation format is now carried through into this bargain-priced three-disc set, which consists of brand new studio recordings made down in Cornwall over the past five years or so. On each of the discs, Ralph treats us to a series of readings interleaved with a handful of songs (and a few instrumental pieces for good measure); all of these musical items have been freshly recorded, and fans will note that some of the songs are completely new and a few others are seldom sung by Ralph in live performance these days. Just occasionally, the audio picture of the readings is completed, ie. further augmented, with ambient sound effects, which score extra points for their genuine relevance and comparative unobtrusiveness (it's good too that such effects are not liberally applied to every one of the readings). But, exactly as you would wish and expect, Ralph's own superb storytelling and singing is both the cornerstone and raison-d'être of these discs, and it's a tribute to his real gift for both aspects of the project that the 70 or so minutes of each disc flows by so effortlessly and thoroughly companionably. You're involved from the outset, and you remain totally enchanted, involved in Ralph's tales right on through: you are the child, right there experiencing Ralph's reminiscences. It's just like a good book that you really can't - and don't want to - put down, in fact. A superior class of audio-book, one with the best possible musical interludes - except that they're more substantial by far than the word interlude would normally suggest: essential, in fact. There is never any acceptable substitute for hearing the author read his own work, but Ralph's is the voice in my head when I read his writings and this set really does bring them alive with the final dimension of reality, truly the next closest thing to Ralph being welcomed right there into your living-room. And I'd actually also recommend the set as a perfect introduction to Ralph's world for anyone unfamiliar with his songs (there will always be someone!), not only to illustrate Ralph's skills and effectiveness as a wordsmith but also to really experience and share in his personal journey. Of course, you will point out that, as is the nature of audio-books, you may probably not expect to take such a set down from the shelves as often as you would an exclusively musical release - but I'll bet that this one will prove an exception to that rule and that it does come down again, and before too long too: it helps also that the individual musical items are (thoughtfully) separately cued. But me, I just found the whole set magic.
David Kidman January 2008
David Kidman December 2007
Here at last is the DVD release of the ever-so-special concert held at the Royal Festival Hall, London on 26th November 2004 to celebrate Ralph's 60th birthday. A gig with a potent sense of occasion certainly, but no razzamatazz, no marching bands, no overkill hype, just an honest and faithful portrait of a genuine trouper (a description often used but never more apt than to describe this top-class singer-songwriter, as Bob Harris noted in his brief introductory speech before presenting Ralph with three gold discs!). Ralph himself appeared pretty much overwhelmed, and his casual, abundantly friendly introductions to the songs struck an immediate rapport with the capacity audience at this unmissable event. Self-effacing and modest almost to a fault, you might say, yet we wouldn't have it any other way. The set-list for the gig was drawn from all stages of Ralph's long career, with some songs being performed for the first time in ages it seemed - but as Ralph so truthfully observed, "you can't forget the old songs"! And the atmosphere of these special performances has been caught well by the team responsible for this release, in fine sound and straightforward, no-nonsense visual presentation.
The first half of the concert was just Ralph alone on stage, and any very minor lapses in vocal pitching were more than compensated for by the intense yet easy familiarity of Ralph's presence and the naturalness of his performance; Ralph's trademark gentle and unassumingly accomplished guitar playing proved as ever the perfect vehicle for his songs. And as is usual at a Ralph gig, the listener wonders anew at the sheer breadth of his songwriting catalogue ("oh yes, of course, he wrote this one too!")... That first set ranged from an early composition (Gypsy) to a new one (A Feather Fell, dedicated to the memory of Banjoman Derroll Adams), from an instrumental (That'll Do Babe, dedicated to the grace of Oliver Hardy) to two very much celebrated items (From Clare To Here and The Girl From The Hiring Fair, the latter dedicated affectionately to Fairport Convention), with perhaps the most unusual selection being Irish Girl (from Ralph's Dylan Thomas project The Boy With The Note, unjustly neglected even by his fans), on which Ralph played spangly-toned keyboard.
For the second set, Ralph brought on a succession of special guests in turn, beginning with Wizz Jones (for San Francisco Bay Blues and a Woody Guthrie medley, the latter also featuring Chris Parkinson on accordion). A dazzling array of mates (Maartin Allcock, Graham Preskett and Dave Pegg) then joined Ralph (and Chris) for an affecting performance of Old Brown Dog (for which Ralph moved onto the trusty Steinway), which was followed stylishly by a duet with Bert Jansch (on one of whose records Ralph had once played harmonica!) on Moonshine. Cara Dillon was then brought onto the stage to sing her showstopping rendition of Tommy Sands' There Were Roses, before joining Ralph for a lovely duet on After Rain. It was back to the Steinway for Ralph then for a touching performance of Naomi (with violin and viola from Graham P and Frank Gallagher respectively), before the afore-mentioned "crew" came back onstage for Around The Wild Cape Horn and a fun trot through Spiral Staircase. The final few numbers were launched with the inevitable Streets Of London (one of its earliest public performances had been in that very same venue, we learnt), this time with Ralph and his guitar backed by the London Community Gospel Choir, and a "band" rendition of Zimmerman Blues (for which Mike Harding got co-opted for extra harmonica duty!). The Choir (complete with its somewhat distracting swaying "choreography") returned to back Ralph for the closing In The Bleak Midwinter (a touch too sentimental for my taste, and I think you had to be there to savour its full impact, but it was sensitively enough done). "See you down the road" was Ralph's parting shot - for surely, this celebration was truly as he described it: "the start of something, not the end of something". The strains of Happy Birthday (dear Ralph...) echoed through the PA system as the audience filed out contentedly at the end ...
David Kidman
When this CD, Ralph's most recent studio album, was first released over four years ago, it was a limited-availability product. We can now celebrate, for it's being given a full-blown release with distribution by Proper. The re-pressed, repackaged re-release follows Ralph's sell-out 60th birthday concert at London's Royal Festival Hall late last year and coincides with the publication in paperback of his volume of autobiography Angel Laughter.
In 2001 I confessed readily that prior to the millennium, and for some years at that, I'd been guilty of somewhat underestimating Ralph. And that was after loving much of his early output, certainly up to Not Till Tomorrow. Then, like many I suspect, I got fed up of hearing Streets Of London everywhere I turned, and as my own musical explorations became more radical I tended to write Ralph off as a bit middle-of-the-road and yes, unexciting. But I can no longer ignore the accumulation of fine songs he's written over the years, and this new album brings the sheer consistency of Ralph's writing home to me with a vengeance.
On Red Sky, Ralph was certainly on a real creative high, for it provides more than enough evidence that his considerable powers of observation have not waned one jot, and that his voice is still as warm and enticing as ever. He shows himself capable of expressing himself artistically through a wide variety of musical styles with almost equal credibility. The best of these new songs retain that typically McTell humanity through their magically wistful ambience that transcends nostalgia with realism, acutely capturing often complex or contradictory emotional situations and telling universal personal stories. For evocative restraint and depth within simplicity, sample Red Sky At Night and In The Dreamtime, or the eerie piquancy of the coolly passionate, curiously hymn-like Now This Has Started; other standouts include I'll Keep This With Mine, the tender Saucers, I'm Not Really Blue, Up, and the cinematic vignettes of Easter Lilies and Fin, while Bicker And Rue could almost be a forgotten Richard Thompson song.
Several tracks share an attractively jaunty countrified feel too (and even including a more-than-respectable cover of Raining In My Heart). The sessions took place at Woodworm Studios, and the production values are expectedly and unstintingly high. Ralph's backing band here comprises assorted OX15/Fairport mafiosi (Allcock, Pegg, Conway), along with Chris Parkinson, Steve Turner, Mike Piggott and Alan Thomson, and there's some sterling backing vocals from Chris While & Julie Matthews. OK, so not quite every song's a gem; one or two have a fairly bland rockist accompaniment that tends to accentuate their less interesting nature as songs, but within the 19 tracks on this 70-minute CD the proportion of exceptionally fine songs is very high indeed. It really is excellent value, as well as an undisputed pinnacle of Ralph's achievement.
David Kidman
Strange Adventure is the latest, critically acclaimed album from Boston duo, The Mercy Brothers. Consisting of vocalist Barrence Whitfield and guitarist Michael Dinallo, The Mercy Brothers are a bit of a throwback to the days of when it didn't matter what type of music you were playing, as long as you were playing. Another Man Done Gone has a strangely 60s feel to it but its rootsy and the reverb guitar is simply executed. Stay Away From My Door is hard to pigeonhole but if I had to, I'd call it Rootsy rock. Down That Road is acoustic blues in a Furry Lewis/Reverend Gary Davis style. It is energetic and Whitfield lets rip in a gospel style. I Believe I'll Make A Change is classy roots that nods its head to Woody Guthrie and The New Year Blues is simply gentle. Blind Willie McTell's Broke Down Engine is more of the blues, Mercy Brothers style. Very good and played with panache. Working On The Line is well played if a little on the light side. Night Train To Memphis is a Country tinged swinger and Misery Train continues the locomotive theme, moving like a high class train – very smooth with good guitar. Mr Johnson is rootsy again but Whitfield loses it a bit, although that is not a common complaint.
Long Black Train is the first of six live bonus tracks recorded in Oslo, Norway and is unashamed Country and a feel good song into the bargain. California Stars is some more Country flecked musings and is extremely good, as you would expect from a Woody Guthrie song. The live version of The New Year Blues is pleasant and Countrified but the studio version is better. Down That Road stands up to the studio edition and the demonic screams are certainly a change. Misery Train is another of the studio tracks to be given the live treatment and shows them to be a good live band indeed. Pallet On The Floor is more upbeat to the versions that I'm used to. They've electrified it and turned it into an R&B but it is different enough to get you thinking. They finish with a bonus studio track, Terraplane Blues, with voice and guitar only. This is the only way to play this slow, acoustic blues.
David Blue July 2007
Stephin Merritt - Pieces of April (Nonesuch)
Which leaves five brand new numbers, four in his Magnetic guise and one under his own name. The 'solo' offering, One April Day, is a simple two minute pledging my love song set to what sounds like either zither or dulcimer and on which the lyric only puts in an appearance in the final stretch.
The Fields material again underlines Merritt as the missing link between Jonathan Richman and the Flaming Lips, an insightful observer of the light and shade of romance blessed with the ability to sound like a complete ingenue and then set that all to tumblingly infectious melodies. Heather Heather, which sounds like a rough cut demo, turns a sly phrase on lines like 'We belong together, Like sex and violence' while the almost Kinks-like Stray With Me and the country carnival waltzing Dreams Anymore recognise that there'll be times when you have to put up with a lot in the name of love and staying together. Best of the lot though is All I Want To Know, a gorgeous cascading melody twinned to Merritt's sandpapery ache of a voice as he trembles with insecurity about his lover's feelings. As perfect a grown up pop song as you could wish for it ups the anticipation of the next Fields album proper to almost unbearable level.
Mike Davies
While maintaining her cocktail of country, soul and Southern rock n roll, Merritt's mantra for her fourth studio album was 'direct'. This was to apply to both the songs and the production, bringing an organic sense of depth and space to create an album that felt found rather than worked up.
Recruiting Tucker Martine to handle production duties and recording in her native North Carolina with her long time band and contributions from pedal steel player Greg Leisz and My Morning Jacket's Jim James (providing harmonies on Feel Of The World), it certainly sounds more open while the songs come from the heart without having to navigate obstacles along the way.
Although Feel Of The World directly stems from the death of her grandmother (written through the eyes of her late grandfather), the tenor of the album is upbeat. The chiming Six More Days Of Rain may be about the depressing experience of constant drizzle, but is ultimately about human resilience just as the midtempo country rocking Engine To Turn concludes that feeling a failure and curling up in a ball is no way to change the state of things.
Likewise, the bluesy chugging - and rather disposable - Papercut may note how the tiny things often hurt a lot, but also how - using it as a symbol for a bad relationship - it's not worth losing sleep over.
The only real dark cloud hovers over After Today, a song she wrote after hearing a friend's stories about inner city kids who, spending time in prison, become used to the chains and harden their souls.
Otherwise, you get the opening Mixtape, a love song to the joys of making your own cassette listening, self-explanatory love song All The Reasons We Don't Have Fight, and the title track's life-affirming tribute to a late friend and neighbour who'd always looked out for her.
There's two non-orginals, both of which steer a similar course. A plangent, guitar ringing, belt it out version of Emitt Rhodes' Live Till You Die and, arising from an argument about Anne Murray, a cover of her Kenny Loggins-penned hit Danny's Song.
Some have said it's the best album of her career to date. I'm not sure that's quite true, but it's certainly the album on which she's truly found her own voice and, to a great extent, her own heart.
Mike Davies May 2010
Originally released in a limited edition on her own label back in 2005 following her departure from Lost Highway, this has been out of print ever since. However, while still signed to Fantasy back in the States with whom she's now released two further studio albums, she's inked a European deal with Blue Rose to make this available one more.
Recorded in June of 2005 at a hometown gig at North Carolina Museum of Art, it's a meld of country, soul and Southern rock n roll that draws on songs from her first two albums with three off Bramble Rose and the other six from Tambourine.
Opening with the yearning Lucinda-like Write My Ticket Home she and the band (which includes members of Stillhouse and Chatham County Line) move between funky Southern country soul grooves (Your Love A U Turn, Ain't Looking Closely), rock struts (Neighbourhood), Memphis gospel blues boogie (Tambourine, Shadow In The Way) and keening ballads (Laid A Highway, Supposed To Make You Happy).
With the reissue adding the classic Bramble Rose as a bonus cut (presumably from the same show), this is one for the fans rather than casual dippers, but it's good to have it back out there.
Mike Davies February 2010
Tift Merritt -Tambourine (Lost Highway)
Overseen by Black Crowes producer George Drakoulias and with the likes of Maria McKee, Gary Louris and Neal Casal helping out on harmonies, the follow up to the North Carolina singer-songwriter's 2002 debut Bramble Rose is a considerably different creature. While Still Pretending may evoke the whiskier fumes of Patsy Cline's barroom and Write My Ticket carries on down the Lucinda Williams gravel road, the country roots flavours of its predecessor have been pretty much kicked into touch in favour of a raunchier rock-soul flavour. The emphasis here is far more on the Bonnie Raitt r&b end of the comparisons with a dose of Van Morrison, Aretha and, on the horn laden Good Hearted Man, Dusty in Memphis influences thrown in.
The songs remain honest and strong, their heart wounds open and stained with regret on the likes of the slow dance ache of a standout Plainest Thing (with Mike Campbell on hymnal pump organ) while Laid A Highway's snapshot of a dying mill town sees her storytelling undiminished.
It may disappoint those hoping she'd travel further down the Emmylou road, but from the opening strum of Stray Paper (with a guitar intro reminiscent of My Sweet Lord) with its hints of Jayhawks and the swaggering early Pettyisms of Wait It Out to the Memphis Hornsy tail feather shaking of I Am Your Tambourine and piano rolling boogie gospel mood of Shadow In The Way those southern cooking Staxy flavours make this a decidedly tasty musical barbecue.
Mike Davies
Tift Merritt - Bramble Rose (Lost Highway)
Out of North Carolina and championed by Ryan Adams after she played solo support for his Raleigh gig, Merritt is being touted as country's next big thing. This is overstating the case at present and in saying she'd like to emulate the likes of Emmylou, Ronstadt and Raitt she herself underlines the fact that although she's got a strong catch to the throat voice, the album too often sounds like a coming together of her influences. Bird of Freedom and the autobiographical Sunday find her in country blues Bonnie mood, I Know Him Too and Diamond Shoes peel off pedal steel and sweet voice in Harris fashion while Linda's flags are waved on the opening Trouble Over Me. There'll be some Sheryl Crow comparisons with strutting Neighbourhood too. However, as evidenced by the Appalachian twangy Virginia, No One Can Warn You, a plaintive Supposed To Make You Happy, a slow waltzing Patsy Cline-like Are You Still In Love With Me and the keening destined to be classic title track there's no denying that she writes some great literate and emotional songs and, recorded live, clearly has an exceptional vocal ability. If she can follow Adams' footsteps by finding her own individual style, then there's every chance those predictions could indeed be prophetic.
Mike Davies
The debut release by Norwich troubadour Rory (recently a finalist at the Red Stripe Music Awards), who operates within the netherworld of traditional song craft, may initially seem a fairly low-key affair, but as the disc plays on through it becomes an increasingly present and very attractive one. Perhaps the first thing that grabs the ear is Rory's rather spellbinding singing voice, an uncommonly flexible instrument that sneaks and croons in a high register, combining the vulnerability of Morrissey with the youthful confidence of Robyn Hitchcock. But his songs are heard to embody a peculiar type of yearning all their own, incorporating classy influences back from Roy Orbison, David Bowie and Lou Reed rather than wallowing in self-pity or attempting some kind of pastel reflection. For instance, the brief One More Lullaby could easily have become twee, but the minimal acoustic setting and Rory's gently impassioned delivery banish any potential misgivings. On other songs, Rory bestows an inventive electric setting, where he gets help from (among others) Shane Olinski, Owen Turner and Andrew Rayner, while cello, violin, cornet and French horn also make fleeting appearances during the course of the album, along with some mildly eccentric percussion. Throughout the album in fact, I like Rory's imaginative use of unusual (and indeed more usual) instrumental colours and textures to mirror the moods and sentiments of his simply personal but uncannily expressive little songs. All Your Life shuffles eerily along its rails to a deep twang guitar and slow-builds to a surprisingly cacophonous climax, whereas No More Do I Care has the distinct aura of classic Smiths insouciant whimsy and the brooding Resentments is reminiscent of the less manic side of Nick Harper. The third of the more extended tracks, Pretend Song, is a weirdly menacing creation that says much in remarkably few words, to an increasingly unsettling electro-electronic backdrop (leading to a Smiths-like bridge before the distortion-rich peroration), contrasting with the closing Goodbye To An Old Friend, a telling, if lo-fi rumination. Rory has no need to apologise for wearing some of influences on his sleeve, nor for his undoubted talent, and I'm impressed enough by his debut to want to make a point of looking out for the followup.
www.rorymcvicar.com
www.myspace.com/rorymcvicar
David Kidman December 2007
Christine McVie - In The Meantime (Sanctuary)
I guess the hardest part of being Christine McVie is to try and escape being Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac. The band are woven into the fabric of popular culture and famously the McVie song Don't Stop became the anthem of the late 20th century's iconic president, Bill Clinton. It may have been a gilded cage but a cage is still a cage.
So it's a real shame that she didn't seize the opportunity to completely break free. In The Meantime was a golden chance for her to return to her roots and sho