Dave McGraw & Mandy Fer. Seed of a Pine

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Seed of a Pine is a fine collaborative effort from Arizona musicians Dave McGraw and Mandy Fer (previously known as Mandy Ferranini under which she’s released some solo stuff). Both names are new to us however a glance at some of the musicians who assisted on this recording was certainly inviting. J.T. Nero and Allison Russell who together recorded one of our favourite albums of last year, Mountains/Forests are present as is the relatively unknown but ever excellent Peter Mulvey. Together they have crafted an album that positively brims with excellent songs, fine playing and exquisite vocals. Although they write separately (with Fer contributing five songs to McGraw’s six) the pair are perfectly matched in terms of style and the vocal harmonies, shared throughout by combinations of the pair along with Nero, Russell and Mulvey provide a cohesive mellow sound.
The opening song So Comes The Day stumbles somewhat despite a promising opening and an intriguing similarity to Calexico’s dusty ballads. It’s a fine song but its meandering signatures makes for an odd opening. Thereafter however it’s plain sailing as the flowing chords of Golden Grey introduce us to the simple joy of a song well played and well sung with rippling guitar and a great vocal from Fer. The galloping Serotiny which follows adds some muscle in the shape of Fer’s rumbling guitar with the title (a term relating to the release of seeds in some plants such as pine cones in response to a trigger) pointing to one of the primary themes on display here which is the relationship of man to nature. The songs are full of references to clouds, wind, mountains and sky. Both writers have an abundance of nature in their lyrics, light, dark, dusk and night crop up time and time again with a woody cello adding a cold yet comforting feel to many of them. Grow and Forget The Diamonds are perhaps the best examples of this. Grow is a mysterious tale of star crossed lovers who lie in the grass counting stars in the summer wind that comes across as if Thomas Hardy were to write a contemporary love song. Fer’s voice burrs beautifully on this with McGraw supporting manfully. The spare arrangement with a basic guitar melody and plaintive violin is superb. Forget The Diamonds is a snappier arrangement with Christopher Merrill’s upright bass sturdy as an oak and the violin cello and piano recalling a Nick Drake moment. The lyrics here are almost metaphysical in their opaqueness and the vocals by Fer and Nero are simply superb. The title song, written by McGraw is a more traditional snapshot of a life lived and remembered, the music is sparse to begin with but swells as it progresses with some fine guitar and bass playing that recalls the jazzy folk of Pentangle. Throughout the album the playing is exemplary, capturing moods,indeed impressionistic. The voices melt and merge with a sublime degree of resignation although there is always a sense that there is a rebirth just around the corner.

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Grow

Blues, rough and smooth.

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Lincoln Durham The Shovel vs. The Howling Bones

If you’re a fan of crunchy old fashioned country blues thrashing as delivered recently by the likes of Seasick Steve and even Jack White, chances are you’ll be a sucker for Texan Lincoln Durham’s debut album. Produced by veteran Ray Wylie Hubbard and studio veteran George Reiff the album is stuffed full of portentous blues slinks driven by Lincoln’s guitar accompanied by the fine drums of Rick Richards. While they provide the backbone the music is occasionally fleshed out with additional guitar by Derek O’Brien, Reiff and Hubbard himself. Mandolin, accordion and fiddle make their brief appearances and Lincoln’s gruff impassioned vocals have occasional backup.
More importantly however is the fact that although Durham is steeped in the idioms and tradition of the blues and utilises well known tropes and allusions his writing is fresh. While he conjures up a land where religion, superstition, death and tradition hold sway there are no twelve bar or boogie blues on display here. The impression of bygone days is reinforced by Lincoln’s note that the album was “Recorded using early to mid-century Gibsons, Kays, Silvertones, Voxs, Bell & Howells, guitars found in potted plants, cardboard boxes, bird feeders, oil pans, hacksaws, feet and anything else that would make a noise.”
From the opening suicide letter that is Drifting Wood with its acoustic guitar maelstrom to the closing Trucker’s Love Song which approaches the majesty of The Band in their heyday all of these songs are excellent. While there are some low down dirty blues moans such as Living This Hard and Mud Puddles, Durham is able to pen a love letter from a dead man to his lover visiting his grave in Clementine that, aside from revisiting the well known Long Black Veil, is a catchy and hummable tune. With nods to Muddy Waters and Fred McDowell in the lyrics its apparent that Durham knows where his roots lie and its to his credit that he’s able to gather them all up and create something new here.

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Trucker’s Love Song

Matt Anderson Coal Mining Blues

From country blues to a smoother, more soul influenced blues style, Matt Anderson is a young Canadian whose fourth album finds him produced by the great Colin Linden (Blackie and the Rodeo Kings) who adds some scintillating guitar to most of the cuts here and co-wrote several of the songs. Recorded at Levon Helm’s studios there’s another Band connection with Garth Hudson contributing accordion on Home Sweet Home. Anderson and band conjure up a fine soulful sound with horns and organ beefing up the sound while he and Linden duel on guitar with Anderson proving himself no slouch on his own solos. He sings well with his performance on the superb Otis Redding like Baby I’ll Be outstanding. This is the highlight of the album with a beautiful and tender guitar solo that is just so good it begs to be listened to again and again. Anderson excels on the title song and She Comes Down which are in the grand tradition of southern soul but he can also rip loose on the swaggering Fired Up and Heartbreaker. The rural side of the blues is visited in Home Sweet Home and Willie’s Diamond Joe where mandolin and accordion replace the horns and keyboards and while not as immediate as the rest both are fine songs.
Anderson has gained some rave reviews on his previous tours over here and he’s returning in late February and March although we don’t see and Scottish gigs listed. Nevertheless a fine album that grows in stature with repeated listening.
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Baby I’ll Be

Willem Maker AGAPEO

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Long time coming this review. I was lucky enough to get a digital download of Maker’s album months ago but as an old time hands on product type of guy it got lost within the myriad folders that populate my desktop. It was a chance re listening of Maker’s album New Moon Hand which reminded me that that there was some more gold awaiting to be mined. New Moon Hand was a tremendous mixture of Bonnie Prince Billy and Tom Waits (in a nutshell) that gained additional weight from the backstory of Maker having to retire from music making for some time after being poisoned by industrial effluent in his hometown. Listening to AGAPAO however gives no indication that this man is a victim. Instead he builds on the previous album’s comparisons and adds a scintillating Herculean holler worthy of Captain Beefheart.
Maker plays most of the instruments here himself, delving into swampy blues, twisted backporch sermons and gravelled voiced prophets. He summons up ghosts, old and new, Howling Wolf and John Fahey could sit comfortably in these grooves. His howling voice on the mandolin laced opener Changlin’ sets the scene and culminates in the pulverising Gulf of Mexico. I am I is a blistering boogie that Canned Heat would have proud of. Revival shreds the likes of the White Stripes with its sloppy guitar and wheezy harmonica. All through the album Maker inhabits the character of the downtrodden, and he plays downtrodden music but there is a sure sense of righteousness in the fire and brimstone delivery,. An Alabama apostle to be sure but in the end a one man band that buzzes and burns.

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I am I

Kelly Pardekooper Yonder

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Once you get beyond the (fine) artwork on the sleeve that might lead some to presume this is a long lost prog rock classic there’s a little gem concealed within with a sultry and slow Americana burn. Pardekooper is so laid back as to be almost horizontal, J.J. Cale comes to mind here although there is little similarity in their music. A more appropriate comparison might be to the laid back country blues of Ramsay Midwood coupled with the sinewy and sultry sound of Lucinda Williams. No surprise then to find out that the album is produced by Williams’ occasional collaborator, Bo Ramsay. Ramsay indeed provides some scintillating and spine tingling guitar throughout.
Pardekoopers’ songs have apparently been picked up by the likes of the True Blood TV series and he does provide that occasional sense of menace but overall this is a handsome set of well delivered and well written southern gothic sounds steeped in sin and redemption, low lit neon dives and cold light of day regrets. Pardekooper delivers the lyrics with a husk in his voice, half spoken, half sung while the band slowly burn. Several of the songs are immediately impressive, the opening Where I Come From sets the bar pretty high as Pardekooper croons over such a sweet guitar lick with a fine sense of ennui. The sloppy blues of the title song burrows its way into the listeners ear while Walk Away is a perfect example of cryptic story telling with sublime guitar and a grand resigned air. A great album and recommended for those who dig the likes of Jim White and the deep American south.

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Walk Away

The Harris Brothers. Suitcase Blues.

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Only the end of January and already an album that might end up as one of our favourite roots releases of the year. The Harris Brothers, Reggie and Ryan are from Lenoir, North Carolina and have been playing together for around 20 years. On the album Reggie plays guitar, sings and kicks and taps the titular suitcase for percussion while Ryan handles double bass and vocals. Live Reggie also tackles electric guitar, fiddle and banjo but their absence here doesn’t detract from what is a superbly played and extremely enjoyable set of blues, ragtime and country songs.
All ten songs here are cover versions of old tunes or traditional songs but there’s no denying the depth of experience and emotional contact that the brothers bring to these old chestnuts. Dig around the web and you can hear a snatch of audio where Reggie describes his extended musical family and influences and you realise that here we have the modern equivalent of those keepers of tradition who were recorded by the likes of Alan Lomax and John Hammond in the mid twentieth century. However The Harris Brothers are no museum pieces, instead sounding vital and delivering their versions in crystal clear audio that will delight anyone who digs the tradition.
It’s hard to pick out any highlights as all of the songs are simply superb. Clarence Greene’s Johnson City Blues which opens the album is eclipsed by the following Rag Mama Rag (by Blind Boy Fuller) where the guitar playing is exemplary. Knoxville Rag (by Etta Baker) continues with the instrumental delights. Roll & Tumble Blues just rolls and tumbles and anyone listening to this need never listen to any of those amplified versions so beloved of late sixties boogie and blues bands, this is the real deal. Reggie’s guitar here is splendid, scraping and sliding while the vocals capture the feel down to a T. The picking on Twelve Gates to the City recalls the late Pops Staples’ mastery as the brothers tackle Gospel blues, and again they do it right. Coming up to date they hit the Chicago sound with a cover of Muddy Waters’ Honey Bee with the guitar stinging in the right places while what appears to be a live cover of J. J. Cale’s If You’re Ever In Oklahoma takes Cale’s laid back version and jazzes it up with some blistering amplified guitar runs set to a Mose Allison shuffle. Even a song that for local audiences might be associated with skiffle like Elizabeth Cotton’s Freight Train is given new life as the listener is drawn to the guitar intricacies and the warm vocals.
So a fine, indeed a very fine album that will delight anyone who’s been listening to the likes of Pokey LaFarge or who digs the sounds of Catfish Keith, Taj Mahal or Ry Cooder, in fact if you like traditional American music you should listen to this.

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Rag Mama Rag

Ruth Moody. The Garden

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Another artist who’s appearing at Celtic Connections (2nd and 5th Feb as part of the Transatlantic Sessions shows at the Royal Concert Hall) Moody is probably best known as a member of the renowned Wailin’ Jennies. Here she steps out on her own with a debut solo (originally released Stateside in 2010 but now on sale here) that’s captivating in its wispy, almost ethereal tones. While not departing too far from the Jennies’ sound she has backing from Crooked Still among others who add a little bit of a rock bite to the mix, perhaps best experienced on Travellin’ Shoes, a superb creeper of a song that has scintillating guitar spreading throughout it. However the majority of the songs here are gossamer thin with Moody’s pure voice hovering over the delicate backings. Cold Outside has something of a Daniel Lanois quality to it while We Can Only Listen pairs her with Matt Peters on a duet that trots along with a fine banjo led propulsion. Her Wailin’ band mates, Heather Masse and Nicky Mehta do appear with backing vocals on a few songs with all three joining in on the last song, Closer Now. The highlight is the opening and title song where fiddle and banjo ripple like the wind on a song that celebrates nature and according to Moody is influenced by Voltaire’s Candide, a work that equates the garden as a Paradise. Fair enough as this album is a miniature paradise in itself. If you like the Wailin’ Jennies then you will like this, if not (and why not) it’s well worth digging into.

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Travellin’ shoes

The Dirty Beggars. Bite The Bullet

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Blabber’n’Smoke first came across this young band from the Borders when they supported The Wilders back in May of last year. Since then they’ve been to the States and now unveil their debut album to coincide with their slots at Celtic Connections. Nailing their colours firmly to the mast Americana music is their thing with bluegrass and string band playing well to the fore. It’s to their credit however that they’ve populated the album with nine originals and not an American song in sight. The one cover is the title song which was written by the late Peebles artist Bryan Begg and it’s of note that this is the second release in the recent past we’ve come across which has been dedicated to his memory (the other being Old Dollar Bill’s Across The Tracks EP).
Much in the way of Old Dollar Bill The Dirty Beggars have drunk from the well of traditional American music to the extent that they can regurgitate songs that sound as if they were whittled out of experience and hard living in the Appalachians and frontier towns. They can deliver lighting fast string driven hoedowns and wearied ballads although they shine best on the latter. Tunnel Light in particular is a splendidly nimble and poignant song with some fine playing and wise words from such a young band. Nashville Wave Goodbye is a great cautionary tale of a would be musician’s life lost in the drinking dens of Music City. With a great chorus and splendid harmonies this could be a hit in that titular town if anyone would listen. Underneath The Sky captures the band playing at their best with all the elements coalescing into a classic song.
Of the faster songs Too Tired (To Work That Farm Today) has a charming country bumpkin lift to it while When The Cockerel Crows skitters along with zest. The band cap the album with a fine and tender rendition of the Beggs’ song Bite The Bullet, a sombre note perhaps but a fine end to what is an excellent introduction to this fine young band.
The Dirty Beggars play Celtic Connections today. There’s a fine interview with them here.

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Nashville wave Goodbye

Rebecca Pronsky. Viewfinder.

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It’s Celtic Connections time again folks. We’ve already reviewed New Country Rehab who are playing two gigs. Now it’s the chance of Rebecca Pronsky whose appearance on 30th January chimes in nicely with the release this month of her fine album Viewfinder. Pronsky is a Brooklyn girl who in interviews comes across as feisty and entertaining as one might expect from an inhabitant of that borough. An example from a recent interview with Americana UK
“I’m about to marry my guitar player. That’s pretty significant. I never thought I’d meet a guitar player who wasn’t a cocky SOB and not only did I meet one who is kind and lovely, he is super talented, plays so tastefully, and has been behind me 100% in this crazy biz.”
That guitar player is Rich Bennett who provides much of the rich texture that adorns this album. He has a firm grasp on that sinuous slinky reverbed guitar sound that Chris Issac and Richard Hawley are so fond of and his playing throughout is a delight. Allied (or married) to the tremendous guitar playing are Pronsky’s lyrics which relate oblique slideshows and snapshots of relationships and memories, mostly forlorn despite the upbeat backing. On top of this Pronsky has a fantastic voice which harks back to classic country singers with a hint of sadness and held back sobs but with a purity that is reminiscent of Neko Case. Pronsky writes all but one of the songs here. The exception is Lucy Wainright Roche’s Mercury News which fits into the overall picture like a bespoke glove.
From the twang filled opener Hard Times to the reverb drenched minimalist closer Good Life (lyrics: I’ve Been Given a Good Life/I Was Born at the Right Time) this is a corker from start to finish.

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Mercury News

Joshua

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Confronted by the anonymous spectral faces framed on the sleeve of this CD it was comforting to read that JǒŞhǔA is a side project of the great Joe Cassady and the West End Sound. Featuring Cassady himself and his superb guitar player Shu Nakamura we were ready for another dose of literate and wry observations delivered with aplomb in a country folk style as in last year’s The Chymical Vegas Wedding“ However the PR blurb stating they had “got a bit bored by what they were doing and did something else” should have alerted me. JǒŞhǔA don’t deliver hummable melodies or toe tapping tunes, instead they delve into the dark recesses of the soul with a piledriver percussive sound and distorted voices that reek of danger and doom. Think of Krautrock, Tom Waits, Johnny Dowd, Harry Partch, add in some Lee Hazelwood, Beat poetry, Tibetan bells and top it off with a dusting of Joujukan master musicians and you’re in the territory this pair inhabit. In fact they say it better themselves describing their influences as “garbage cans, screaming children, half-empty bottles, half-full bottles, deer antlers, tambourines, mortal flesh, pots, pans, vocal chords, squeaky chairs, sheets of paper, the words on the paper, bells, whistles, the whole bag of chips, etc.”
With such a smorgasbord of sounds it’s a tribute to the pair of them that the album is a bit of a triumph. See-sawing between spoken word poems accompanied by a jangled cacophony and more intimate and tender spooky ballads all is weird in here. In Thee O Lord which opens the album is a trance like invocation that recalls the opiate nightmares of William Burroughs, Unstarted Symphony is a whirling percussive dervish and Dear Words throbs like a heart beating to burst. By comparison Don’t Let them Hurt You sounds almost tender despite the surreal sci-fi imagery. It’s a genuine surprise to find a Christmas song towards the end of the album. Christmas Eve 2012 is jaunty with a faux country feel but listen to the lyrics and you soon release that you’re still in JǒŞhǔA land.

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In Thee O Lord