A to Z Album and Gig Reviews
Imagine a time when bands roamed the earth in Transit vans, sharing the space with their gear and perhaps a driver. Road crew would have been the ultimate luxury though as no one had invented mixers and PA systems as we know them there would have been nothing for them to do! Yes it was basic, raw and exciting but there was a live music scene that existed independently of the whims of the record business. Bands could, and did, build followings from live work and could fill clubs to the rafters without the slightest whiff of a hit record or, in many cases, a deal.
The Animals and Yardbirds were two such, though in fairness Five Live Yardbirds was a major label release that followed a couple of near hit 45s. That said back in '64 even a deal with the mighty EMI wouldn't ameliorate the band in a van indignities of working musicians. And they were working musicians; The Yardbirds captured her on fire at London's original Marquee Club knew how to fire an audience with a stripped down R&B that The White Stripes would envy. It's amazing hearing Eric Clapton rip into this classic material with a gusto that long ago diluted; back then he was a man on a mission playing blues as religion. The rest of the band are no slouches either, pushing him to play out of his skin.
Meanwhile The Animals were kings of Newcastle Upon Tyne's Club A Gogo (I still have my membership card to what, for me, was a doorway to another world) where they dispensed pharmaceutical strength R&B with an intensity that modern day retro rockers would be afraid of. They were a band that locked into an almighty groove that the great Eric Burdon (still an underrated R&B vocalist, in my opinion) surfed with aplomb. Let It Rock catches them live in '63 taped (bootlegged you might argue) by Yardbirds manager Giorgio Gomelsky, a uniquely influential figure in UK music, before they landed a deal or released anything more than a demo. Both albums are amended reissues. The Yardbirds adds 10 tracks that didn't make the original cut whilst The Animals adds what was once a separate album; eleven tracks that find the quintet backing visiting blues giant Sonny Boy Williamson at the A Gogo. It's a fascinating document of cross generational influences - Sonny Boy was in his seventies by then - and proof that nothing is new and that the current hot shot is merely the present baton holder.
With that in mind you should seek out these albums, not as historical curios but as important links in a vital chain.
Steve Morris
David Kidman
Terry Yarnell will probably be familiar to many as veteran of the London Critics Group (at the time of Ewan MacColl) and the contemporaneous London folk scene. Hitherto he's attained a fine reputation as a sympathetic admirer and performer of classic ballads. On this CD though (his first solo record I believe - he's no lover of the studio!), we're treated to a "bonny bunch" indeed, a neatly programmed mix of songs and ballads. Aside from his own rather attractive guitar accompaniment to three of the twelve songs, and Paul Draper's melodeon on one other, Terry performs exclusively unaccompanied. His highly distinctive singing style owes much to the Connemara sean-nos, but not in a merely imitative way, while he's also absorbed influences from all manner of traditional singers through his extensive and open-minded listening. This CD grips the ears from the very first note, and Terry's obvious deep understanding of the text is absolutely tangible; this is conveyed as much in his precise diction as in his unrivalled command of phrasing, features which allow the listener to be drawn in straightaway and on along totally naturally through the progress of the story. Terry's is a very considered type of delivery, within a generally level dynamic that - if you're not paying close attention - can seem misleadingly inexpressive. Myself, I was immediately impressed by the compelling combination of florid decoration and deliberate pace in Terry's singing, equally effective whether as part of the quite declamatory Bonny Bunch Of Roses or the softer, delicately moulded The Trees Grow High (to take just the first two tracks as well contrasted examples). In Terry's case however (unlike some other singers with whom decoration forms a major element of their singing style), these embellishments do not distract from the unfolding of the narrative. Of the more epic items here, Terry's version of the graphic sea ballad Flying Cloud is certainly among the best I've come across, and his version of Child 69 (Clerk Saunders) forms a valuable comparison with that by Alison mentioned above (Terry uses his own tune, somewhat redolent of Willie O' Winsbury in its opening phrase perhaps, which due to its starkness I find I actually prefer to the one Alison uses). Other (and maybe unexpected) song choices which Terry brings to this CD include The Wedding Song (aka. Come Write Me Down) and Hopping Down In Kent (on which Terry's voice is joined by Mary's - a deliciously sprightly slice of light relief after the heavy-duty ballad!), while he rounds the collection off with an excellent, tenderly expressive rendition of Sweet Thames (Flow Softly), a song he clearly rates highly within the writer's canon, bringing full circle the Ewan MacColl connection he forged in the 60s. But for me the CD's highlight is Terry's wonderfully dramatic treatment of Mr. Fox, a contemporary cousin of the Reynardine/Bluebeard family of tales written by John Pole, where he proves himself master of suspense indeed. This really is a stunningly good CD, and varied enough to hook new listeners in and foster their interest in the ballad traditions.
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David Kidman
The opening track – a cover version of Trees' macabre Garden Of Jane Delawney – was carefully contrived to appeal to us wyrd-folk enthusiasts, I'm convinced. And it's efficient, certainly, but somehow lacking the eerie impact of the original with its weird cooing harmonies and unique atmospheric tension. That's all the more curious, as the publicity blurb for Ygdrassil, a pair of Dutch female singer-songwriters (Linde Nijland and Annemarieke Conders), makes great play of their intense harmony singing; no, perhaps I'm too used to hearing that uniquely intimate song in its original incarnation. However, when I give Ygdrassil a fair hearing on the remaining 40 or so minutes of this, their fifth album, I uncover more of interest, with some powerful folk-inspired original songs by Linde (In A Lonesome Town has an acute feel for folk melody that's reminiscent of Kate Rusby's, the rippling All By The River is quite disturbing, and Down In Yon Green Garden has an attractive old-timey Appalachian feel) and some altogether more personal compositions by Annemarieke (of these, the desperate, claustrophobic This Heat, which brings a different slant to summertime, is outstanding). Ygdrassil also try out a pithy Bulgarian song (Nazad), and further covers include Sandy Denny's North Star Grassman And The Ravens and (huh?!) Neil Young's Motorcycle Mama (this treatment seems to've been inspired by the Be Good Tanyas). Instrumentally the duo's guitars are augmented to telling and beguiling effect by Bert Ridderbos (cittern, bouzouki, accordion, banjo, guitar), with occasional appearances by fiddle player Rens Van Der Zalm (of Andy Irvine's stellar Mozaik ensemble), bassist Eddy De Jonge and violinist Jannet Fink. The spare instrumental textures are welcome and non-intrusive, keeping the focus firmly on those febrile Ygdrassil harmonies. In the end, Easy Sunrise turns out to be a haunting, and very rewarding, album, and really makes me want to hear the duo's previous four albums (none of which were released in this country, I gather).
David Kidman
Today as much feted as an actor (most recently seen in Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada and Crank) as a singer, Kentucky born Yoakam's debut album was released back in 1986, spawning hits with the title track and Honky Tonk Man and instantly proving a cornerstone in the revival of interest in the Bakersfield sound of Buck Owens among the 80s college audiences.
It's being overhauled for its 20th anniversary, released as a double disc set that features a remastered version of the original album alongside the 1981 demos and a Live At The Roxy set from 1986 featuring several previously unissued recordings.
Aside from an opportunity to hear rough drafts of things like It Won't Hurt and I'll Be Gone, there's a clutch of songs that never made it to the debut album, among them the rather fine I Sang Dixie (which surfaced later) and Please Daddy (which he's never re-recorded). Meanwhile, over on Disc 2, Yoakam's in rousing form, belting through pretty much the whole album with a loose limbed twang and swing, while also tossing in Bill Monroe's Rocky Road Blues, My Bucket's Got A Hole In It, and, dedicated to John Fogerty and Emmylou Harris, two artists who inspired him to make country music, a rattling version of Mystery Train.
Sounding as fresh now as when it first appeared, this is a perfect opportunity for old fans to upgrade their copy and a chance for a whole new generation to start catching up on what they've been missing.
Mike Davies, Sept 2006
Well right at the start it sounds like the band are still up there on yonder mountain ponderin' the sky, for the album opens with a gentle drone before the banjo, guitar and bass truck on in to back the voices on the reflective group composition Sidewalk Stars. From then on in, it's 60s-style vocal harmonies in tandem with some high-powered (but not necessarily frantic) bluegrass pickin', nicely turned and with an easygoing gait at whatever speed the licks are managed. It sounds like a progressive yet well developed style, and it turns out this is the band's fourth album so far. I learn that it's the first time they've worked with a rock producer (Tom Rothrock), but this hasn't compromised the band's acoustic integrity or string-band cred, just added a little drums to the mix on a handful of numbers, and to really good effect too. You may feel that Adam Aijala, Jeff Austin, Dave Johnston and Ben Kaufmann didn't really need to sharpen up or toughen their sound, but the slightly rocky edge to some of the numbers on this new album is really attractively managed rather than just being added as a production gloss overlaying the bluegrassy roots. Tracks like the driving Angel have been dubbed "hard folk", an interesting but revealing term which works just fine (and listen out for Darol Anger rockin' out there on fiddle!). Dave's banjo is used in a pretty radical way on its duel with Adam's electric guitar on How 'Bout You?, and the extended hoedown call of Just The Same rocks along like nobody's business, while there's a really appealing Doobie Brothers vibe (but punchier) to Classic Situation and Wind's On Fire makes an ideally atmospheric album-closer. The whole CD, in fact, is a brave attempt to freshen up the old-time sounds and close the gap between bluegrass and rock - which it does with real style. My only small criticisms concern the two instrumentals: Midwest Gospel Radio meanders nowhere in particular, while the breakdown Fastball is way too short!
www.yondermountain.com
www.myspace.com/yondermountainstringband
David Kidman, November 2006
David Kidman
James Yorkston & The Athletes - Just Beyond The River (Domino)
Born in the Fife village of Kingsbarns and now based in Edinburgh, Yorkston's heavily rooted in the folk idioms, even citing Anne Briggs as one of his influences. Not that he's a traditionalist in the sense of revisiting or revising the old ballads for contemporary audiences, rather in that he relies on the simple warmth of his voice, his acoustic guitar and the gently rustic arrangements of hammered dulcimer, euphonium, banjo, and bouzouki to stir up the emotions within his organic songs of love bent, bruised, battered and beatific.
Following on from the Someplace Simple EP earlier this year, he returns now with his second full length album which, while it may have been recorded to a listening background that included Can and Faust thankfully bears few Krautrock traces, its spare, uncluttered but finely detailed sound more in tune with homespun Appalachian country folk and the rural dusty backroads walked by the likes of Bonnie Prince Billy. Indeed, the pastoral life looms large on the opening Heron, a gently dappled love song about missing the country, while the banjo rippled shanty Shipwreckers recalls an evening spent amid the Cork hills and its ingrained folk lore.
There's a wistful reflectiveness abroad throughout, be it cast in the dark corners of the past that lurk within break up song Hermitage or the sunnier memories of skinny dipping and releasing shut up truths that bubble over the heathery flavours of Surf Song. Love brings warmth in words on the six minute Hotel, a literal tale of an evening in a Dublin hotel room and a lover's voice on the phone, while the basic need for the comfort in others hums to accompanying fiddle on This Time Tomorrow where he sings "I clasp my hands around your waist, ignoring the usual associate commotion of the touch".
Being human and bruised, there's bitterness and weary sadness too, the sour and musically angry Banjo #1 baring its teeth at three individuals who seem unlikely to be on his Christmas card list.
Having said he doesn't rummage through the folk archives, there's actually two traditional numbers here. Scottish murder ballad Edward comes from the singing of Jean Ritchie but, featuring harpsichord and toy xylophones, is a lot more spare and foreboding, while The Snow It Melts The Soonest has been previously recorded by Briggs, Dick Gaughan and Eliza Carthy, though none of them did it as a pounding train rhythm drone and Celtic dance stomper in what Yorkston calls a meeting between Can and Planxty (though you might detect hints of a trad folk Crosby, Stills and Nash in there too) that, after lulling you into tranquil pastures, sees the album out in rattling form.
Mike Davies
James's fine album Moving Up Country captivated me just over a year ago with its gentle passion and its feel for both pure Americana and the English tradition. James' new release, though a mere EP, presents a handful of tracks similarly inclined in terms of low-key understatement, yet it's obvious that James has moved on in terms of a deeper immersion in the music of the tradition. Someplace Simple is a kind of metaphor both for his adopted milieu and for the artistic statement that is this five-movement song-cycle, for its apparently simple, sparse settings come to reveal ever more subtleties on each subsequent playthrough. That title track, James's own composition, is followed by a deceptively contoured take on Lal & Mike Waterson's Scarecrow. The final three of the songs are traditional in origin, infused with the spirits of Anne Briggs and Shirley Collins yet freshly minted by stripping back the layers of time and interpretation that have interceded. The ephemeral spirit of Nick Drake also seems to drift along through James's renditions of these ageless tales, curious though that might seem. Someplace Simple is a grower allright, and more than just a taster for James's new album, due early next year.
David Kidman
This CD may be subtitled "popular music from the period of the Gunpowder Plot", but it be no treason to review it on this website I assure you! York's official "band" of the time of Guy Fawkes was its Waits, and its present-day equivalent specialises in the music of Tudor and Jacobean England, opportunely commemorating the 400th anniversary of the 1605 Gunpowder Plot by releasing this CD and performing a series of concerts. And so to the music herein, then: the rich and slightly overpowering sound of massed shawms, sackbut, bagpipes and percussion opens proceedings in spicy, almost ceremonial style, and sets the tone for what follows, a fulsome sequence of mostly short pieces - dance tunes both courtly and rustic, mixed-consort arrangements of popular melodies (yes, including Greensleeves, since you ask!), etc. - performed with authenticity and a ready vitality by the seven musicians of the Waits in various combinations of recorders, pipes and tabors, Renaissance violins, viola, rebec, curtals, cittern, lute, guitar, harp and hurdy gurdy as well as the customary already-mentioned wind/reed instruments. At its most piquant, the sound of the Waits is lusty and very invigorating, at its most refined it's surprisingly cool and relaxing; yet whichever type of basic "band" lineup is utilised, the impact is considerable. Each individual piece (or mini-set) is perfectly satisfying in its own right, but the more ambitious six-minute sequence of "two mournful tunes followed by a rumbustuous (sic) jig" near the end of the CD, which "perhaps echoes the doleful and delirious atmosphere which accompanied public executions", is definitely a highlight.
David Kidman
Pete Yorn - Day I Forgot (Columbia)
Last year saw the UK release of his debut, Musicforthemorningafter with its airplay hit For Nancy and songs about Beach Boys dad Murray Wilson, Ian Curtis and Jack The Ripper. Now comes the follow-up adding a touch of Neil Diamond vocals to the melting pot with the surging pop throb of fuzzy guitars that is Come Back Home and nods his love of Britrock in the direction of George Harrison with When You See The Light.
It's a much more no frills tougher rock n roll approach, Long Way Down, bonus track Drive Away, the heavy riffing Carlos and a punky emo Burrito all big on loosely slung rough and ragged noise over the top of the melody lines.
But as lovelorn waltz Turn of the Century (inspired by Baz Luhrmann telling him his plans for Moulin Rouge), Man In Uniform and So Much Work show, he still wears the mantle of wistful romantic troubadour with stylish ease.
Overall perhaps not quite as impressive as his debut and lacking that necessary killer song to make him a major player, but there's enough here to indicate he's around for the long haul while his rousing cover of Suspicious Minds suggests his live shows are jubilantly energetic affairs.
Mike Davies
Discovered by the Farrelly brothers who commissioned him to provide the score for Me Myself & Irene (the song Strange Condition also featured), Yorn hails from New Jersey but these days hangs his guitar case in LA where he paid his pre-label dues at the celebrity hang-out venue Cafe Largo. He spent his teenage years soaking up the music of The Smiths and Joy Division, those influences now traceable in his fondness for a sardonic lyric and the strong percussive rhythms (a lot of the songs were written off the drums) that drive tracks like Life On A Chain, On Your Side, and Black, the latter a self-avowed homage to Ian Curtis and the lads although Murray nods the head to more homegrown material, penned about Beach Boys father Murray and rippling with a tang of sun and surf behind its beat. Drawing on people encountered - physically or otherwise, the songs frequently adopt narrator mode.
Like the scratchy surface of Lose You, Yorn's voice is the sort of sandpapered throaty affair that graces many an aspirant Stipe, Neil Young or Lou Reed, but the comparison he's accruing most is Eliott Smith. There's a hint of the same folk-roots touch but he's closer to the pop side of the Mojave than Americana counterparts, a love of the snappy melody and bopping beat evidenced on the chugging Brit New Wave sound of throb rocking debut single For Nancy which could well suggest he's got a few James and Buzzcocks albums in the collection too. Closet - which continues the JD connection into New Order territory - could well provide him with a sizeable airplay hit while any the closing fragile Simonize (about Jack the Ripper actually) should find a place in the soul of bruised angels everywhere. Hang on in there too because hidden track, the lilting A Girl Like You, kicks in at the 4 minute mark of the play-out. The album actually came out in the States last year, and it might be worth trying to grab an import copy of the bonus disc edition which include a re-record of Strange Condition, videos for Life On A Chain,For Nancy, Strange Condition and June plus covers of The Smiths' Panic, Bowie's China Girl and Springsteen's Dancing In The Dark and New York City Serenade.
Mike Davies
For 400 years the Copper family have lived and worked around the Sussex village of Rottingdean, and for at least half of that time they've been renowned as singers locally. Ever since Jim and his son Bob sang on BBC Radio at the beginning of the 1950s, there have been recordings made of succeeding generations of Coppers (most notably perhaps those made by Peter Kennedy in the 50s and 60s), as well as a series of inspirational (and award-winning books) written by Bob in the 1970s. Each successive generation has inherited from its forebears a deep love for the songs and for the singing of them, and a strong determination to keep the tradition alive. Thus we come to the latest generation to find their way onto record: going under the name of Young Coppers, this particular family grouping comprises Bob's six grandchildren, from both branches (ie the sons and daughters of Jill and John respectively, children of the 60s and 70s: Mark, Andy, Sean, Ben, Lucy and Tom). This disc therefore constitutes an important release, and listening to it without any preconceptions is very difficult indeed; but I feel sure that anyone coming new to the distinctive "Copper Sound" will revel particularly in the tracks which feature the glory of the full ensemble, six family members singing together in harmony in what we've come to regard as the "genetic footprint" of the time-honoured "Copper way". Especially so since the recording has an attractive resonance, a bloom and dynamic range that captures well the fullness of timbre and tone of the combined individual voices when sounding together. It's indicative too, perhaps, that the making of the album started in the studio, which felt quite alien to the performers, and so to rectify this they moved the microphones downstairs to the bar! There's certainly an appealing informality to the proceedings as a result.
The full ensemble is utilised on five of the dozen songs here, the remainder giving us a chance to hear the special qualities of the individual singers. Inevitably, some are stronger and more characterful than others; one or two are clearly still coming to grips with matters of flow and phrasing, and there are instances of what sounds like off-key and/or uncertain pitching (Cupid's Garden), but it's evident that each of the singers has developed his/her craft entirely naturally and, importantly, retains a sense of carrying forward the living tradition. Each Young Copper gets the chance to lead a song (or else, as in the cases of Lucy and Andy, perform entirely solo), with varying success. Generally speaking, the livelier songs come off best; nonetheless, it sometimes doesn't quite feel that they're all having fun and actually enjoying the singing. A few of today's renditions sound almost too respectful rather than spontaneous, even to the extent that they're appearing to attempt a "carbon-copper" re-creation of the "received template" Copper Sound (even if that's not actually the case!); this is especially so with the opening track, Hard Times Of Old England (a Coppers staple if ever there was one). The first time I listened to the new recording of this song was in company with a long-time Coppers fan who expressed immediate disappointment, thinking it overly laboured, a little dreary and lacking in drive and passion; at the time I felt I part-agreed, at least with regard to what I felt an over-deliberate pace being adopted. But memory plays strange tricks, and expectation fostered by memory is a peculiar beast; indeed, more so when coloured by countless other (non-Copper) performances of a familiar song. So I took the Ron Copper recording down from the shelf for comparison - and to even my surprise, I found the pace virtually identical. That's just one example (albeit an extreme one maybe) of several throughout the disc where memory really deceived me. And I suspect a majority of listeners are apt to make comparisons between the performances and interpretations of Young Coppers and those of their forebears. It's a foregone conclusion that the Young Coppers would not be able to produce a present-day equivalent of the often electrifying close harmonies of Bob and Ron, say. For, being honest, one's aural image of the Copper Family as a performing unit-cum-institution necessarily abides largely in familiarity over time with those older recordings and thus the performances enshrined within. The latest Rose Of Allendale is a touch slower than before but I rather like its added gravitas, which through the phrasing eschews sentimentality; however, Banks Of The Sweet Primroses now feels more stilted at its over-measured pace (and the extra syllable in "prim-i-roses" seems an affectation), while Come Write Me Down arguably feels a mite on the lugubrious side.
Finally to the presentation of the disc. The foldout booklet contains a brief discourse with the six Young Coppers, a useful family-tree (albeit the pics are frustratingly not "current") and a photo gallery, the latter (less helpfully) captioning the locations rather than the people pictured within. Most surprisingly considering the importance attached to the Copper Family's repertoire, there are no notes whatsoever on the songs themselves (not all of which are exactly "Coppers' Greatest Hits" within the recognised corpus). We can't assume that all purchasers will be familiar to any significant extent with the songs...
In summary then, what this disc contains is definitely worth hearing, not least as a snapshot-in-time representation of the present singing generation of Coppers. But it does have the air of a bit of a rushed job, released hastily to comply with a predetermined touring schedule deadline - and most disappointingly, one feels distinctly shortchanged when the disc contains a paltry 36 minutes of music (12 songs out of a potential 80 or so).
David Kidman February 2008
The sole album by Cardiff's post-punk minimalists, originally released in 1980, is often cited as one of those records which achieved a state (and later, the status) of perfection almost without trying. Immaculate from conception to construction, Colossal Youth was also unique in its unblemished and spellbindingly original sound-world, a special moment that existed in, and formed, its own time-capsule before - a couple of EPs later - the bubble burst and the group split (there has since been a reformation, when they played the Hay-on-Wye literary festival last May - and they're doing some further European dates next month, I understand). This important new release is a two-disc set that continues the tradition of Domino's recent excellent expanded-reissue programme. It presents the original Colossal Youth in all its minimalist glory as disc 1, then assembles all the band's single and EP tracks and the cuts comprising the 1979 pre-Rough-Trade demo album that was previously issued (by Vinyl Japan) as Salad Days. Stark beauty in sparse detail characterises the band's music, which was pretty much unique in its time, an era where overblown and rock'n'roll had gotten themselves polarised and impending apocalypse was the biggest thing on the agenda. YMG sounded like no-one else, Alison's spectral lyrics and Stuart's pointilliste guitar contributions underscored by chilled organ and/or clipped robotic percussion. The cool and unassumingly limited instrumental palette proved no stumbling block to conjuring a triumphant range of moods and feelings, from urban angst (The Taxi) through riffy electro-surf (Music For Evenings, Credit In The Straight World) and cheeky, cheesy lounge (The Man Amplifier) to wistful and curiously pastoral (Salad Days) and the spare, ominous and unsettling bubblegum of the title track. Muted and primitive yet full of meaning, and a huge (yet not always readily acknowledged) influence on succeeding music-makers. Over 25 years on, several of the album's tracks still send quite a chill down the spine.
David Kidman April 2008
Martin's first album The Climbing Boy was released what I'd term long years ago (pun intended - Martin was then using his original surname ……). Botany Bay represents more of the same; firstly in that it mixes his own songs with arrangements of songs by other writers as well as a handful of traditional songs, and secondly in that he has again called on the production and instrumental skills of ex-Albions/Home Service lad Graeme Taylor, and the supporting cast again includes John Kirkpatrick and Jon Davie. This time round, though, Martin also enlists Nancy Kerr, James Fagan, Michael Gregory and Keith Thompson, and the result is an enticing and listenable release, well presented too. Right from the opening cut, the atmospheric local portrait Romney Tower (written by Bob Kenward with great feeling for the heritage of Martin's Kentish base), you know it'll be quality all the way.
Martin's a reliable singer, sensitive self-accompanist (guitar and cittern) and writer of some damnably fine songs, many with a commendably authentic traditional feel. Janitors And Jailers has become celebrated through Keith Kendrick's recording (on Home Ground). The guest contributions are sensibly managed and really enhance Martin's own singing and playing. I do have a couple of reservations, which I'll freely admit may be just a matter of personal taste - perhaps the cheesy evangelical arrangement for Keith Donnelly's hilarious Bungee Jumping For Jesus is a little over-the-top (and the megaphone-style interjections are unintelligible), while the new setting for Janitors And Jailers comes perilously close to swoopy, syrupy BBC animal-documentary music (or was that deliberate? - either way, the song has a greater impact sung unaccompanied I feel). In addition, I felt that one or two of the tracks using a relatively large ensemble sounded a mite cluttered balance-wise compared to those which use relatively few musicians and backing singers. But don't let that stop you hearing this impressive release.
David Kidman
No you didn't somehow miss the release of Chrome Dreams I. Young recorded it back in the late 70s but it was never released, songs such as Like a Hurricane and Pocahontas turning up on later albums. Fortunately, this time round Neil's gone all the way for what he's called his gospel album and quest for spiritual guidance, fuelled, like Prairie Wind by his recent brush with mortality.
Well, perhaps not entirely since many of the numbers date back to the 80s, among them the opening plaintive country ballad Beautiful Bluebird, the banjo plinking slow tribal stomp Boxcars (from another dumped project) and the 18 minute epic of Americana cultural travelogue of Ordinary People with its throaty coruscating guitars and brass.
But while Young's always been balancing the search for self and inner peace alongside darker portraits of troubled churned up souls raging at the world, it does mean the album's a bit of a stylistic musical hotpotch, as fascinatingly erratic as the man himself. Even his band is made up from different phases of his career with members of Crazy Horse (Ralph Molina), Stray Gators (Ben Keith) and Bluenotes (Rick Rosas).
Thus, along with the swaying country lilts (Ever After) and the rumbling rock (Spirit Road, Dirty Old Man) there's some Youngian Memphis soul (Shining Light, The Believer) and, heaven forbid, even the inclusion of a kiddies choir with The Way, a track you may well wish to put on permanent skip along with the interminable 14 minute trudge through No Hidden Path. So, some you love, some you will never listen to twice, some that will baffle and some that will beguile. All in all, pretty much your classic Neil Young album then.
Mike Davies October 2007
"Let's impeach the President for lyin' and misleading our country into war". Well, cards on the table then. Young's never been reticent about proclaiming his political views but while other artists may have referenced and protested the Iraq war with one, maybe two, tracks, this is a whole album's worth of direct sticking it to the Bush administration. He even enlists George W's own befuddled, contradictory soundbites as samples for the cause on Let's Impeach The President.
Given his previous post 9/11 hawkishness, which included the gung ho Let's Roll, the album also serves as a metaphor for a whole nation that's woken up to the realities of what's going on.
With Young on vintage, angry distorted guitar rocking form, it opens at a fierce, deliberate pace with After The Garden, a combination of environmental warning and apocalyptic vision before sliding into the title cut, the first of the album's anthemic melodies with Young and a choir singing what can only be called a protest spiritual. The coruscating Restless Consumer, Young in falsetto mood and talking his way through the verses, turns it venom on the consumerism and corporate greed that has driven a war with oil as the agenda as he sings about the refusal to negotiate. It's back to Iraq with Shock & Awe, adopting a well known Presidential catchphrase for a classic piece of Young rock that pulls no punches in laying into the botched liberation and its aftermath, with 'thousands of bodies' bought home in boxes, a theme that links into Families (where, stuck in a war they don't want to fight, a soldier asks for respect in songs written about them) and Flags of Freedom where a family watches their son march off to war set to a surging Creedence sounding rocker that deliberately borrows from and references Dylan's Chimes of Freedom.
Following directly on from the singalong Impeach, comes Lookin' For a Leader, a fiery throaty number where Young hopes there's someone out there, "maybe ...a woman or a black man after all" who can take up the challenge and right the wrongs. Which leads out to the melancholic memoir Roger & Out, recalling the old hippie highway, the ideals of the 60s and those gone before in the fight. Having resurfaced backing Young on that, the choir takes centre stage for the album's playout track, swelling to 100 strong for a non ironic, deeply moving a capella rendition of America the Beautiful that declares Young still a patriot, but a patriot who wants his land back and cleansed of sin and taint.
It may be an album for the moment and unlikely to stand the repeat play test of time in the years ahead, but for now it's rock n roll's battle hymn of the republic.
Mike Davies, May 2006
Neil Young - Prairie Wind (Reprise)
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger they say. Certainly seems to be the case here as, having cheated death and lost his father Young returns to something like form after a spate of readily dispensable albums. Essentially back to basics with its songs of family, home and life around him, it will inevitably conjure comparisons to Harvest and After The Goldrush. It's not quite as consistent as those classics, but mixing in the political threads of No Wonder (a song that musically harks back to his days with Buffalo Springfield) and It's A Dream with the obvious personal issues of Falling Off The Face Of The Earth which, as he breaks into a fragile falsetto, clearly stems from thoughts of mortality and saying farewells. Childhood memories of dad rise up on the good timing plinking Far From Home and the bluesy brassy title track "("trying to remember what my daddy said, before too much time took his head") while This Old Guitar and The Painter are both reflections on the musical roads he's travelled with all their mixed fortunes and wrong directions.
But with Elvis conjured riding off into the sunset on He Was The King, never looking back and on the closing hymnal When God Made Me, here is Young talking of being proud of the achievements made with the gifts give, a reminder that the strength of the sun eclipses whatever rain may have fallen. Long may he continue to shine.
Mike Davies
Neil Young - Prairie Wind (Reprise)
As the first fruit of a new deal with his old label Reprise, Neil has with Prairie Wind delivered an album which - in its thematic and lyric preoccupations, at least - seems on initial acquaintance to form a straight-line sequel to Harvest and Harvest Moon. Coincidentally, like those very two albums, Prairie Wind was made at the time of a major health crisis in Neil's life - in this case, the album was written and recorded in between diagnosis and treatment of a brain aneurysm, yet that's not meant as an apology or a request for special pleading, for it's an abnormally fine album, one which reveals more on each hearing and after half-a-dozen plays I'm convinced it's one of Neil's best. The songs resonate with familiar cowboy images, sure, but there are darker implications a-plenty amid an overall desperation, a feeling that amidst the utopian simplicity of our perceived heritage there's we the human race rapidly losing control of our destiny (personal and global). One standout track, It's A Dream, is a masterpiece of contrasting hopes and realities, and its haunting strings-with-pedal-steel arrangement sets the seal on a powerfully simple acoustic performance by Neil himself. Other good examples of Neil's economy with words and pictures include the hypnotic This Old Guitar, the burnished splendour of No Wonder and the folksy nostalgia of Here For You (with Neil's trademark harmonica well to the fore). The album closer When God Made Me is at first hearing a slightly uncomfortable gospel-hymn vibe, but its inspiration was apparently taken from absorbing the ambience of a converted church and it makes a kind of spirit-of-the-moment sense rather than the sickly quasi-religious statement (à-la-Let It Be) that it first appears to be. Neil's tribute to Elvis Presley, He Was The King, is a mite loose and sloppy, but its sense of fun is still infectious. Much of the album is acoustic-based, but there are enough textural contrasts to provide both interest and continuity, and Neil's basic backing crew (Ben Keith, Spooner Oldham, Rick Rosas, Chad Cromwell and Karl Himmel) is uniformly superb. Emmylou Harris sings on three tracks, and elsewhere Neil's wife Pegi is but one of the backing vocalists, while the horn or string arrangements on a handful of tracks are masterly in deed. Although several of the album's ten tracks stretch out beyond the four-minute mark, you never feel they outstay their welcome and there are no tedious passages of soloing to contend with. Yes, this is a remarkably fine CD - so welcome back Neil, and best wishes for a continuing healthy future with Reprise.
David Kidman
It's taken some 20 years getting to this, having been kept busy providing back ups for husband Neil, raising their disabled son and looking after the Bridge School for children with special needs. I review it more because of who she is than what she's recorded, since there will obviously be many a Young devotee out there who wonders what the debut album by his wife has to offer. Well, while it's fair to say that she's no Patti Scialfa, she has an attractive, age-weathered homespun voice that does good service to a set of easy going folksy rock tunes that she's written over the years, most hovering around themes of seeking independence and being completed by love.
She has, of course, some pretty solid players to call on for support and Neil, Ben Keith and Spooner Oldham are all here, hubby providing harmonica and taking his turn as the back up singer. Clearly the steadying influence in the marriage, she keeps the musical mood equally mellow, only flirting with some gentle barrelhouse boogie on I Like The Party Life and broaching some uptempo rhythms and brushes with the blues for Love Like Water.
Otherwise this is laid back listening, country slow waltz time for I'm Not Through Loving You Yet, jazzier colours on Fake and a flicker of torch banjo for Hold On while banjo and fiddle provide the backporch flavours to things like Heterosexual Masses and, the album's best number, When The Wild Life Betrays Me.
Were she not who she is, the album would probably not get the attention it has, but there's enough going on to make it worth a listen in her own right.
www.myspace.com/pegiyoungMike Davies March 2008
Young No More - Three For A Girl (Own Label)
A beautiful, bright and eye-catching cover design by Al Atkinson (featuring a magpie, naturally!) adorns this CD, the first release by well-respected Midlands acappella trio Young No More. Their name perhaps requires more than a cursory explanation (beyond the tongue-in-cheek ageist reference, that is!): basically, group members Vic Simpson and Nic Burdett sang together for some years as part of the well-regarded trio Burdett, Simpson & Young, then when Rob Young returned home to Northumberland they were Young No More (geddit?) - and soon recruited Jacky Lockley, thus regaining trio status. I really like their performing style; it's characterised by forthright and powerful singing, generally unison-based but making good use of harmonies at strategic points, notably line-or phrase-end cadences. Each of the three singers is well known on the folk scene as a noted exponent of traditional song and is blessed with a strong and solid individual voice, whilst any combination of these voices sounds very well. They sing with a confidence and ease (akin to putting on one of Nic's celebrated comfy rainbow sweaters!?) yet they lose nothing in spontaneity thereby; their delivery is authoritative and admirably unpretentious, straightforward and unfussy without being boring, and they sing with evident feeling but a refreshing lack of extraneous finicky decoration (preferring instead to allow the song to be carried by the melodic straight-line). Young No More's special delight is in researching to find, or reinstate, songs (or meanings) that may have been forgotten or bypassed by others; and good on 'em I say! Although their repertoire is firmly rooted in the English Tradition, it also proudly encompasses several top-drawer contemporary songs written equally firmly in the tradition (here represented by Graeme Miles' Sea Coal, Martin Graebe's Jack-in-the-Green, John Cartain's Lobster Lad, and two ornithological items in the shape of Dave Dodds' The Magpie and Dave Webber's The Blackbird). Nic also contributes a tune for the group's setting of a poignant little Steve Plowright poem Countryman. And each of the three singers is allocated one solo track too (though Vic gets two, since he draws the shortest straw first time round!). Summing up - if your taste is for good and tuneful (and perhaps mildly obscure) songs honestly recorded and consistently well sung, then you'll enjoy what Young No More have to offer, for they come across very well on CD in this truthful no-frills recording - but they make even more of an impact live... go see!
www.youngnomore.free-online.co.uk
David Kidman
Expert fingerstyle guitarist Terry joined the big boys at Tanglefoot (Canada's lusty and illustrious folk-roots band) back in 1999, since which time he's become proficient on several other instruments, added to his already prolific songwriting tally and now produced a solo CD. This proves an excellent showcase for Terry's creative guitar playing, but also shows the hidden depths to his songwriting talent that Tanglefoot aficionados may not have suspected (notwithstanding his co-writing credits on celebrated songs like Willow Dan and Backyard Sailor). Terry's eternally rootsy fingerwork is a focus of this CD, sure, but Terry's songs inhabit sensibilities which extend naturally beyond the folk-roots platform of the band, generally following the theme of man's humility in the face of nature and inevitable consequence of action. Essays in thoughtful contemporary philosophy (Changing The Name Of Heritage) fit in comfortably alongside songs which incorporate altogether more light-hearted, often tongue-in-cheek observations by way of jazz and blues elements (Bad Service, Out Of Luck, The Lottery Blues), although Terry's way of singing the latter type of song can seem a trifle mannered at times. For a similar reason, the closing track, Aileen (Terry's heartfelt tribute to his mother) took a bit of getting used to I found. However, the legions of Tanglefoot fans will doubtless appreciate Lunenburg Skies, a tribute to the Nova Scotia town that hosts what Terry classes as his favourite folk festival, and the simple lament for the loss of Ontario farmland Swept Away, whereas the more disposable pop-style Save For You And Me is redeemed by a touch of Terry's typical filigree guitar magic. Perhaps the most touching of the songs here, though, is We're Desired, a disarmingly honest portrayal of an all-too-familiar emotional conundrum. The CD's two purely instrumental cuts comprise the delightful title track and an unusually jazzy, intriguingly syncopated rendition of Si Beag Si Mor. Terry's own voice, guitar, mandolin, bass and penny-whistle are augmented on the CD by Bryan Weirmier (piano), fellow-Tanglefooters Terry Snider (fiddle) and Al Parris (stand-up bass) and Kim Brown (vocals), and the whole affair is admirably balanced.
David Kidman, July 2006
Mike Younger Band - Tooth and Nail (Nashanoke Music)
In today's madcap dash to find the 'next big thing' we should be thankful that 'real' music has never been so shallow, instead of 'out with the old in with the new', fans treasure those who maintain and cherish traditions. Such a band is The Mike Younger Band and Tooth and Nail is the blues-tinged expression of those traditions. There's no need to search for great innovations or whizz bangs, there aren't any.
In the 8 years since Younger turned from street performer to professional musician he's had an album, Somethin' In The Air, produced by Rodney Crowell and shared a stage with Steve Earle, Naci Griffiths and a host of other great names. Tooth and Nail shows he's nither flattered or overawed by the company he keeps.
Dandelion, which opens the album, turns out to be a bit of a red herring. A typically American radio-friendly piece of AOR that would not be out of place on a Bob Seger album (just not next to Hollywood Nights) it's pleasant enough but comes and go without remark and gives no hint of the real treasures to follow.
Throughout Tooth and Nail you'll be reminded of a myriad of performers, The Faces and even a hint of Joe Cocker come to mind. Although the Cocker reference may come from singing Delta in a throaty growl but all the influences are ones to be savoured.
Because Younger and the band stick to the central core of blues/rock it gives the likes of Banished a steel spine. This is a band without pretension or pretence, their only obvious ambition is to play great rock n roll and in that they succeed handsomely.
If there is a slight dip, then it comes with the soulful Together which is a little too polished and clean cut, a little more dirt and sweat would have given a good song, a kick like a mule.
The Mike Younger Band are at their best when their rough edges are celebrated and roughened even further, slick rock bands we have aplenty. Those who can play and sing like The Mike Younger Band are altogether rarer.
Michael Mee
With a few honorable exceptions, Italian 'rock' music is a pretty unknown quantity. Not that Italians cannot make music; I mean, you are talking about the home of opera here, but Italy hasn't exactly been a fertile ground for good rock over the last few decades - possibly with the exception of PFM in the seventies, whose brand of prog/pomp rock sat easily with the likes of ELP - must be all those initials. However, Yuppie Flu can be bracketed more easily with the Talk Talk school of introspective post-rock, but occasionally with big guitars. The group is, in fact, a duo - Matteo Agostinelli and Giacomo Fiorenza - who write, play and produce with the help of a string quartet on two tracks. What strikes the listener at first is the voice - whoever sings, be it Matt or Giacomo, has a yearning soprano which acts as a counterpoint to the music. Yuppie Flu's sound is a layered collage of traditional rock elements - you know, the traditionally-arranged guitar, bass and drums - with keyboards, archaic mellotron, the aforementioned strings, banjos, pedal steel guitars and a touch of electronica here and there. It's all rather dense but on repeated listening the character of each song shines through. All the time Matt or Giacomo's voice - think Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev as the nearest comparisons - holds it all together.
John Stacey