Karine Polwart. Traces

Posted on by

Mention of folk music almost inevitably leads to discussion of protest songs with the folk form almost exclusively linked to the notion of expressing political or social concerns in song. On this latest release from Karine Polwart, doyen of Scots folk singers, the first two songs certainly fit the bill. Cover Your Eyes rails against the capitulation of Aberdeen’s finest in allowing media mogul millionaire Donald Trump (he of the hair) to trample over local opposition and despoil an area of natural beauty. Fittingly Polwart invokes here the power of nature to achieve a vengeance of sorts. With a cold beauty it makes its point without haranguing the listener. King Of Birds which follows is a hymn to the Occupy protesters who camped outside St. Paul’s Cathedral. Here Polwart utilises metaphor with the titular king of birds, the wren, representing the architect. A powerful song it grows in stature as it progresses thanks to the wonderful production by Iain Cook and ultimately it becomes a song of hope. Throughout the album Cook manages layers of sound, understated mild electronica and pulses of traditional instruments which ebb and flow under Polwart’s faultless voice which has a comforting Scottish burr.
Despite the pointed message of the opening songs much of the album is derived from Polwart’s pesonal story, writing about her upbringing in Falkirk on Tinsel Show and the devastation of the death of a cousin on Strange News, a simple stark tale with sombre backing and ethereal vocals. She sings about her elderly neighbour on Salters Road, painting a simple life and capturing it in miniature with evocative place names while the sombre brass band backing tugs nostalgically.
An album to be savoured, mulled over late at night with the beautiful melody and voices on a song like Tears For Lot’s Wife comforting and shivering at the same time Traces places Polwart at the forefront of contemporary Scottish folk music. She closes the album with another song that belongs to her own story but this time dredged from many years ago. Half A Mile is about the kidnapping and murder of a young girl 30 years ago. A contemporary of Polwart she lived only a few miles away and Polwart paints a vivid picture of the innocence of youth and the alarm raised after the event. Chilling in its execution with dramatic use of percussion it’s a powerful song. A bitter end to a fine album but in its way a commemoration of, as Polwart says “the kinds of love and longing and loss that shape all of our lives.”
Finally mention must be made of what might possibly be the best opening lines of an album this year…
I was Farrah Fawcett
You were Steve McQueen
And we rode your silver Grifter half the way from Aberdeen.

website

For Folk’s Sake: Bard, The Imagined Village, Seth Lakeman, Kathryn Roberts & Sean Lakeman

Posted on by

Although Blabber’Smoke tends to wallow in the sounds of Stetson wearing honky tonkers, fiddling mountain dervishes or bruised and angry troubadours we pride ourselves in having an eclectic ear. Over the past few months several albums of the folk variety have tumbled in and we thought it was time to give them an airing.

First up is Bard whose album The Springtime Fool has been gathering plaudits and airplay since their successful appearance at Celtic Connections. A five piece band whose traditional sounding songs are coloured heavily by an almost klezmer sounding clarinet they weave songs that draw from the country and the city with a jaunty spring in their step. Born In London Town is an almost skiffle like number while the opener Violets is reminiscent of Pentangle at times. An encouraging debut.

Encouraging as it is to hear a young band like Bard take up the baton of modern folk if we go back ten years or so there was a blossoming of folk sounds influenced by world music. Much of this was delivered by the generation below sixties masters such as Martin Carthy and indeed Carthy and his daughter Eliza are very much present in The Imagined Village’s third release, Bending The Dark. A conglomeration led by Simon Emmerson The Imagined Village blend world tunes, dub, Afrobeat and traditional folk into a beguiling stew. Although the recording of this album was beset with problems including the departure of Chris Woods they’ve delivered a fine set of songs and tunes that derive from the traditional and embroider them with layers of exotica. Percussion, sitar, studio trickery all play a part here but the lyrics cleave to traditional subjects while the band are a virtual commonwealth of sounds. Brave and adventurous it is and with the voices of Eliza Carthy and Jackie Oates grounding it the album is well worth hearing. A highlight is Get Kalsi which imagines the Get Carter theme tune as if it was actually on the soundtrack of Slumdog Millionaire.

While the Carthy family has engendered numerous albums and various groupings the Lakeman’s appear to be catching up on them. Best known is Seth Lakeman, a past Mercury prize nominee whose latest album, Tales From The Barrel House, is a truly solo effort with him playing all of the instruments. The songs pay tribute to the rural professions that have been plied over the ages but are in danger now of dying off. Recorded in a barrel house (or cooperage) his fiddle scrapings and clattering percussion can threw up images of the blacksmith hammering at the anvil or the claustrophobic atmosphere endured by copper miners. The fine Salt From Our Veins is an impressionistic portrait of the travails of fishermen while Brother of Penryn is a rousing stomp that forsakes the artisan tributes for a good old fashioned folk narrative with murder and mayhem on its mind. The Blacksmith’s Prayer however stands out with some fine lyrics and the best use of an anvil in a song we’ve heard for some time.


Seth’s brother, Sean, steps into the limelight along with his wife Kathryn Roberts on Hidden People. The pair have played together since their days in Equation, a band that included Kate Rusby along with three Lakemen brothers. Sean has kept busy over the years in bother Seth’s band and honing his production skills on numerous albums, skills that allow this album to shine sonically. While Roberts handles the vocals throughout the album she’s joined at times by Caroline Herring, Jim Moray and Dave Burland while Seth and Sam Lakeman both add their tuppenceworth along with Sam’s wife Cara Dillon. It’s a family affair indeed.
The result is an album sounds as modern as tomorrow while still celebrating tradition. There are tales of vengeance, fairies and mystical creatures. . The opening song, Hundra (in Scandinavian folklore “hidden people”) is composed almost entirely of Roberts’ voice multi tracked with some assistance from Swedish band Baskery’s Greta Bondesson. While several of the songs sound traditional including Hang the Rowan, Lusty Smith and the tremendous The White Hind the outstanding pieces have a broader base. Standing At My Window almost has a Bo Diddley beat while Oxford, N.Y. allows Lakeman’s guitar to shine coming on like Richard Thompson in fiery form. The central piece is The Ballad Of Andy Jacobs. Stripped to the bone with only Roberts’ voice and piano accompaniment it’s a moving and intimate telling of the human consequences of the miners’ strike. Signing off with Jackie’s Song, another bare boned affair only with guitar replacing the piano that recalls Thompson again its fair to say that this album places Roberts and Lakeman well up in the current folk pantheon.

Anna Coogan & Daniele Fiaschi. The Nowhere, Rome Sessions

Posted on by

We mentioned Anna Coogan on Blabber’n’Smoke last year noting that her salt water infused album of songs inspired by the sea, The Wasted Ocean was a bit of a delight. This follow up is a bit of a side step for her recorded as it was in two days with Italian guitarist Daniele Fiaschi with whom she’s been touring over the past year or so. Despite their lack of a common language the pair gelled well together and decided to see if they could cut it in the studio. With Coogan on vocals and acoustic guitar and Fiaschi providing electric and acoustic guitars the result is this fine set of songs which is warm and intimate, perfect for late night listening. Revisiting songs from her two previous albums the stripped down arrangements allow Coogan’s voice to shine while Ffiaschi fashions some fine sonic soundscapes with his strings. A marine biologist by trade Coogan can’t seem to escape the sea with one of the cover songs here, a version of Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald sounding haunted and forlorn with squalls of guitar echoing wind and waves. Streamers, from The Wasted Ocean is given a particularly delicate delivery with Coogan singing like an angel as the guitars caress her voice, a beautiful moment on an album that in its hushed moments recalls the vibe of The Cowboy Junkies sepulchral Trinity Session. A live version of Phil Ochs’ The Crucifixion ends the album allowing the listener a glimpse into the chemistry the pair enjoy on stage. As on her studio version on The Wasted Ocean Coogan sings this song with a passion while Fiaschi’s guitars ensure that the studio band arrangement is not missed.
Coogan and Fiaschi are touring the UK in September and October with dates in Glasgow and Falkirk.

website

Dead Belgian. Love & Death: the Songs of Jacques Brel.

Posted on by

Mention of Jacques Brel in a rock context usually ends up praising Scott Walker although here in Scotland fans of a certain age will swear blind that Alex Harvey’s rendition of Next is somewhat akin to the Second Coming. However its nice to hear his songs delivered in a cabaret/chanson setting that can transport the listener to a cramped Gitanes ridden fleapit with a small orchestra crammed together in a ramshackle, parping and wheezy fashion. Strangely enough Dead Belgian hail from Liverpool, a place more commonly associated with sweaty beat cellars but they carry off this continental drift in fine fashion. With Fionnuala Dorrity delivering most of the lyrics in French folk not acquainted with Brel might be a bit lost for those familiar with the songs the translation will be easy. The instrumentation which includes guitar, ukulele, mandolin, accordion, saxophone, flute, clarinet and percussion captures the atmosphere perfectly. Vibrant and vital or sleazy and salacious as required it’s a great listen. All the usual suspects are present, Next (Au Suivant), Ne Me Quitte Pas, Amsterdam, Le Moribund, Jacky and My Death among others. A must for Brel fans it tempting to think that perhaps Dead Belgian can be persuaded to turn their sights on Georges Brassens next.

website

Devon Sproule. I Love You, Go Easy.

Posted on by

Devon Sproule is a name I hadn’t heard in a fair while, not really since her album “Keep Your Silver Shined” gained a fair bit of airplay back in 2007. Although she’s released three albums since then she seemed to have slipped out of sight although by all accounts she has a sizeable and dedicated fanbase. Now with a short Scottish tour commencing later this month it’s as good a time as any to cast a critical eye (and ear) on her latest recording, I Love You, Go Easy.
Recorded in Ontario with Canadian trio The Silt it’s a quirky listen. With a very warm sound and eschewing a traditional band line up the signature notes here are swatches of analogue synths, woodwind and meandering guitars. At times the arrangements are reminiscent of the bucolic ramblings of Kevin Ayers when he was backed by the Whole World band. The burbling bass playing and Sproule’s vocal delivery also recall Joni Mitchell at times while the wordiness and storytelling adds to this sensation. The inclusion of a cover of a song by The Roches (Runs In The Family) nails the Canadian connection and places Sproule directly in the lineage of literate and well arranged modern folk with an emphasis on the vocal contributions.
The lazy paced delivery of the opening If I Can Do This pretty much sets the scene for the remainder of the album with Sproule hovering over a deceptively simple arrangement that gently pulses, a great start. The title song features a jazz influenced piano lead with Sproule’s voice mutlitracked towards the end to great effect. The Unmarked Animals ups the tempo sounding like something Kate Bush could have come up with both in its lyrical obliqueness and its sub reggae shuffle while there’s a gloriously goofy guitar solo midway through. Monk/Monkey has a brave guitar and trumpet duet along with some lyrical whimsy that repays repeated listening. Sproule’s lyrics are interesting throughout. The Warning Bell could be autobiographical as she describes in some detail her environment and lifestyle while The Evening Ghost Crab almost falls over itself with metaphors and similes, all successfully realised. The Faulty Body was inspired by the death of a close friend and recalls their moments together with a wry smile. The Roches’ Runs In The Family is given a faithful rendition which fits into the feel of the album like a jigsaw puzzle piece falling into its place but the other cover song, Mary Margaret O’Hara’s Body’s In Trouble stand out as a superb rendition, simply executed and a fine companion piece to the earlier The Faulty Body.
The last song, Now’s The Time, starts off with a more traditional country rock sound although its not long before some instrumental idiosyncrasies pop up. Finally an unlisted coda employs horns and woodwind on an enigmatic and disturbing recall of bad times and memories that brings the album to a puzzling end.
As we said at the beginning Sproule is touring around Scotland later this month, dates are below. So if anyone gets the chance to, please ask her what that final songs means. We’re intrigued.

website

Tour dates:
Wed Aug 22: Woodlands Hotel, Broughty Ferry
Thurs Aug 23: Cromarty Old Brewery
Fri Aug 24: Woodend Barn, Banchory
Sat Aug 25: Byre Theatre, St Andrews
Sun Aug 26: Stereo, Glasgow
Mon Aug 27: Douglas’s Studio, Edinburgh
Tues Aug 28: Old Library, Kilbarchan
Wed Aug 29: The Tolbooth, Stirling
Thurs Aug 30: Acoustic Music Club, Kirkcaldy

The Agnostic-Phibes Rhythm & Blood Conspiracy. Campfire Tales.

Posted on by

A bit if a mouthful for a band name, The Agnostic-Phibes Rhythm & Blood Conspiracy is a wedding of sorts of Canadian garage punk rocker Jackson Phibes (of Forbidden Dimension) and members of the rockin’ and rootsy combo Agnostic Mountain Gospel Choir. A collaboration that combines elements of Phibes’ fascination with pulp shock and the Choir’s scattergun bluegrass together they create an unholy mess that howls at the moon and sends shivers up the spine.
With twelve songs that are primal, primeval and soaked in voodoo menace, guitars slide and moan, fuzzed and slashed while the rhythm section batters away like men on fire. The electrifying guitar that opens the first track, A Match To The Kindling sounds like Neil Young meets Duane Eddy before the band chug into the title song, a perfect introduction to the delights contained herein. They invite you to sit by the campfire and listen to tales of “ mad trappers and severed heads bouncing down the stair, hippie baby sitters and spider eggs in your hair.” Shiveringly good and delivered in a classic cowboy song gone weird fashion it’s a tremendous opener. There’s even some shades of The Shadows in there.
Having set the scene we’re treated to an aural equivalent of an all night B-movie gore fest as we hear about the wolfman of Budapest, speed down an endless highway pursued by a Windago spirit and go on a booze fuelled night of lust and murder.
The dual guitar duelling of Phibes (on electric) and Bob Keelaghan (acoustic) spark and flare throughout the album and the overall impression is of going for a ride in a fairground Ghost Train that has a really cool soundtrack. If Robert Rodriguez is looking for some sounds for a follow up for From Dusk To Dawn then he need look no further.

Facebook page

Ronnie Costley. Souvenirs & Scotch Mist.

Posted on by

Ronnie Costley was the fireball vocalist of the late and very great Glasgow band Kissing Bandits who were on the cusp of success in the eighties with a major label deal and a knock out sixties based garage punk sound. Sadly major success was not to be and the band went their separate ways with Costley relocating to Ireland where he earns a living with what is reportedly a very fine Frank Sinatra act. News of this album was intriguing as we didn’t know what to expect and when it popped through the post the first play led to a fairly flummoxed response. This wild rocker of yore and current Rat Pack purveyor had delved into his past to deliver an album that reeks of nostalgia for growing up in Glasgow and presents it in a fashion that recalls the great folklorists of the city including Matt McGinn, Adam McNaughton and Billy Connolly. There’s precious little evidence of garage punk or Las Vegas neon here, instead Costley has produced an album of songs that could appeal to grannies and grandweans alike and which has at the heart of it a genuine swell of pride.
Taking as his template the Glasgow sing along folk song for the majority of the songs here Costley manages to marry the humour and the hardness that is often thought of as uniquely Glaswegian. The album can be seen as a chronological account of his growing up with When We Were Wee capturing his earliest childhood days. Stuffed full of childhood images that any contemporaries will recognise (Popeye the sailor man lives in a caravan, Oor Willie books on Christmas day) this is a wonderfully affecting song. A little bit older and a little bit wilder Bogeyman is more raucous with the banjo driving a tale of urchins scampering through closes and captures the brash mock bravery of childhood. Adolescent stirrings lead on to the love pangs of Rose, a delicate plea to walk a girl home. The teenage years offer escape from the home to the nirvana that was Arran where girls, drink and rock ‘n’ roll beckoned, all captured in the instrumental The Purser which recalls the boat trip, Ode To Bobby D and The Lassies of Lamlash which is a great portrait of many teens’ experience away from home for the first time and which is given an authentic STV hootenanny delivery.
Older and more reflective Sail Away has a Joni Mitchell feel to it as it celebrates the freedom of the country but Mammy’s Boy takes us back to the dank and sometimes dangerous city. The album ends with a trio of songs that reflect the mature singer looking back on the past. Grandpa is an aural family tree that plays around with popular Scottish sounds. Tethered is a fabulous folk song which celebrates the simplicity and contentment of the denizens of the islands. The final song The Banks Of The Clyde is another celebration. An expats’ return to Glasgow it starts off as a simple guitar melody with Costley’s tender vocals as he describes the places of his youth. The arrangement gathers strength and swells with percussion and pipe sounds as the song progresses and by the end one realises that this is a song that captures some of the heart of Glasgow. Corny as it may sound the feelings aroused are probably similar to those experienced by our parents when they listened to the likes of Calum Kennedy or Kenneth McKellar when they sang their songs of the Clyde.
Although the album as a whole lurches from style to style the majority of the songs are very impressive. The McGinn like Bogeyman, When we Were Wee which could have come from Robin Hall and Jimmie McGregor and the Alistair McDonald styled The Lassies Of Lamlash should be added to every Glasgow folk singer’s repertoire. The players include several of Costley’s eighties compadres (Jimmy Moon, banjo player and guitar maker of note, John Palmer and Martin Cotter)and they are all on top form. All in all this is probably the last thing one would expect from an ex leather clad post punk Glasgow rocker. But here it is and it is mighty fine.
You can buy it here or email Ronnie himself via his website

Penny Jo Pullus. Through The Glass

Posted on by

A respected Austin, Texas singer, Penny Jo Pullus opens a window here to some of her favourites on an album that comprises eight cover songs from a total of 11. Backed by a stellar cast of Austin musicians the primary feel here is of a southern soul and rock groove with guttural guitar, sweet organ and occasional fiddle. Covering the likes of Neil Young, Doug Sahm and Mac Rebbenack and accompanied by the aforementioned stellar line up of Austin musicians including Ian McLagen, Will Sexton and Jimmy LaFave, Pullus sings her heart out in a very attractive manner. While most of the attention might go to the covers including a great version of Give Back The Keys To My Heart and a muscular rendition of Look Out For My Love her own songs hold their own in this exalted company. Nowhere To Go is a tough slice of a tough life with some fine guitar while Baby Please stands out with its masterful mix of guitar and fiddle and southern soul on a heart rending hard luck story that is simply magnificent. Rounding off the album with fiesty versions of Son Of A Preacher Man and the Stones’ Dead Flowers this is cracking little listen. Pullus comes across as someone who would be fabulous to see in person. As it is her personality crackles across these songs.

website

For Fear The Hearts of Men Are Failing. The Wonderful Clatter

Posted on by

Blabber’n’Smoke enjoys string band music. Fingers flying over stringed instruments, banjos, mandolins, ukuleles, guitars. Fiddles and saws bowed. Played with virtuosity or wonderfully shambolic, old time or bang up to date, we dig it. So we were very happy to hear that the very fine San Francisco troupe, For Fear The Hearts Of Men Are Failing were having a Kickstarter campaign to fund their second album having loved the previous release City Music. We were even more happy and intrigued that the band were looking for the princely sum of $1000 in order to unleash this beast. Having achieved their target the result is The Wonderful Clatter, an almost onomatopoeic title for this cracking collection of songs and tunes that teeter on the edge of craziness and totter like a drunk rambling home.
The forebears of FFTHOM are bands like The Holy Modal Rounders and The Incredible String Band. They’re immersed in the sounds and songs of vintage rural Americana and come up with what is a fairly unique style that will scare off casual listeners with its harum scarum scapperings. For anyone however who can trace the lineage of rough hewn American folk music from the early days, captured by Harry Smith on his definitive anthology, they are gold dust.
The album opens with the speed freak banjo and pell mell vocals of Ghosts and Dreams, a wonderful clatter indeed. A great segue into the childlike naiveté of Up Jumped The Devil is inspired and its clear here that despite their apparent randomness they do take time to arrange their songs as the glockenspiel and melodica backdrop support the fine yet ragged harmonies on a song that could have been on one of The Incredible String Band’s early albums.
While The Meadow and One Thing I Know are relatively straightforward country romps (although with FFTHOM nothing is really straightforward) the true delights are on the definitely quirkier songs. No Point To Life (with guest accordionist Skyler Fell) is an existential trip that sounds as if it’s being sung by a bunch of Russian Nihilists (and is reminiscent then of the late great Tuli Kupferberg). Devon Doesn’t Like The Beatles playfully describes a troubled teen who grudgingly acknowledges that The Beatles exist because “they’re Lemmy’s favourite band,” a delightful ditty. Aside from the whimsy they can pull out of their collective hat the gorgeous Bad Dreams (written and sung by Meg Ruth King) that has a haunting quality and sounds like a lost outtake from Karen Dalton.
The Wonderful Clatter is a fine successor to City Music then and one which deserves to be heard far and wide by those who love traditional music and those who like to walk on the wild side.

website

Petunia & The Vipers.

Posted on by

“Imagine that David Lynch and Nick Cave had a hillbilly baby. A hillbilly baby that yodelled.” Well imagine no more because that absurd description just about sums up the extraordinary Canadian artist Petunia although it misses out on the Godparents. Jimmy Rogers, Willie nelson, Slim Whitman, Lux Interior, Ray Condo and Tom Waits among others. An eclectic mix but stir them all together, add a soupcon of Elvis and even a hint of Pokey Lafarge and you might end up with this enigmatic character.
Although he has released several albums in Canada this is the first to get a push here and as such it stands as a great introduction to his left field genius.
Petunia (a name given to him by a mysterious lady friend) emerged from a Vancouver post punk scene and embraced country music. Picking up the Vipers, composed of the cream of the local crop including members of the late Ray Condo’s band, he can deliver straightahead country pop that can thrill and exhilarate as on the closing cut here It Ain’t where the band cut loose with a jitterbug frug with guitars a flaying and a propulsive swing that comes across a little like Jimmie Dale Gilmore fronting The Mavericks. This song alone should propel Petunia to playlists across the land and grace wedding dances galore such is its feelgood factor and if more folk had good taste. However its simply the last in a collection of songs that blast from the past and then are given a unique twist courtesy of Petunia’s slightly warped vision.
Opening with the cowboy yodelling of The Cricket Song the listener is lulled into a false sense of security as the fifties’ sheen, the tin pan alley chorus, the comforting pedal steel playing all add up to a song that could possibly kill Martians. In the midst of this radio hour comfort Petunia however tosses in a slice of discord as he reveals that he has left his “baby” almost as an aside. As a result this picture perfect description of a beautiful moonlit Canadian night hides a darker story. The darkness comes to the fore on the following song Mercy. “If Tom Waits could yodel and I bet that he can” sings Petunia as he launches into a Waits inspired carnival with the previous sumptuousness of the music replaced with the clash and clatter one expects from Waits while the guitarists produce some fine Marc Ribot inspired licks. The breathless rockabilly rant of Maybe Baby Amy follows on sounding like a country version of The Cramps, a trick repeated on Gitterbug where fat pedal steel replace fuzz guitar. There’s a Latin sound to Bright Light and Che (Guevara’s Diary) and a return to a more conventional approach on Yes Baby Yes, a western swing type number. A cover of Hoagy Carmichael’s Stardust is almost conventional and crooned superbly but at the heart of the album there is a darker core with The Ballad of Handsome Ned a highlight. A cinematic introduction leads into an atmospheric obituary for a local musician who inspired Petunia and offers the band the opportunity to stretch out. This is trumped however by the spectral majesty of Broken Down Love. A lament graced by some incredible saw playing by Doug Tielli it is wonderfully evocative of dark skies with a shivering loneliness and as it stutters and almost halts the sobbing guitar, the spooky saw, the lyrics and Petunia’s voice all add up to something close to perfection.
One of the best releases of the year you really should try to hear this.

website