Releasing your first solo album 51 years after you first committed to vinyl might not be worthy of a mention in The Guinness Book Of Records (or maybe it might) but Tony Poole’s “Faith In Us”, recorded with Poole now in his eighth decade, is certainly worthy of celebration.
For those not in the know Poole was the jangly 12 string Rickenbacker player in the early 70s band Starry Eyed & Laughing, a band who inhaled of The Byrds and Crosby Stills Nash & Young and who delivered two superb albums, sadly never making the big time. Thereafter Poole was hidden from sight for a couple of decades, working behind the scene producing albums and gaining a reputation for his mastering and engineering skills before springing into prominence as one third of Bennett Wilson Poole, a band which took the UK Americana scene by storm in 2018. A revived Starry Eyed & Laughing (Poole paired with original member Ian Whitmore) released a long awaited third album in 2021 to accolades and now Poole has decided to wave his very own freak flag high on this superb outing.
The album opens with a Byrds like flourish on the title track, Poole’s jingle jangle Rickenbacker to the fore on a song which is joyous in its optimism and hope for the future generations. Next comes a hefty thump of nostalgia as Poole recalls his own youth on the 60s psychedelia of Chelsea Girls (1965) as he reimagines a bus trip in London’s swinging sixties, name checking the icons of the time and indulging in an unashamed pastiche which ropes in many of the tropes of the then nascent experimentation of bands such as The Beatles and The Yardbirds. Great fun.
It’s important to note that this is not an album suffused with nostalgia. On several of the songs Poole addresses current issues (as he did on the epic Bennett Wilson Poole song Lifeboat (Take A Picture Of Yourself)). Chief amongst these is the powerful Imagine This which addresses the plight of children separated by border controls and posits that such policies are a small step away from actual fascism with Poole referencing Martin Niemöller’s famous poem, First they Came. With hints of Indian drones amidst the driving beat along with several scorching solos the song soars with Poole’s multitracked harmonies lifting it to the heavens. In a similar vein is the ecological plea which is This Slice Of Time, chock-full of chiming guitars as Poole offers a new take on a song originally penned by Nelson Bragg which, with its lengthy coda reminds one of Crosby Stills Nash & Young. Going back to his own childhood, Poole recalls his yearning for the nirvana which was American culture as he suffered the (often brutal) public schooling meted out to kids back then on Dream Of Life but, on the baroque pop of Marcie Dancing, he is optimistic again (as on the title song) on a song dedicated to the children of some of his collaborators on the album.
While Poole’s 12 string guitar mastery always reminds one of McGuinn, there’s another Byrd who inhabits several of the songs contained here, the late David Crosby. His spirit looms large on Love Or Something, a languid note which amps up Crosby’s Everybody’s Been Burned but it’s the slow burn epic album closer, Film Noir, which truly revives the hazy days of Crosby’s magnum opus, If I Could Only Remember My Name. Full blooded crunchy guitars and organic sweeps on keyboards ebb and flow as Poole, uncannily, delves into that smog and dope fuelled miasma which Crosby laid down all those years ago, assisted here by a guest appearance from the legendary Glenn Phillips who adds some scintillating guitar solos.