Grant Peeples and the Peeples Rebublic. Punishing The Myth.

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Grant Peeples is a muscular, shaved head, scary looking guy, the kind you’d avoid in a bar in case he’s looking for a fight. His music too is muscular and it’s looking for a fight, in this case with the hucksters and moral majority who run his nation. Always on the side of the downtrodden and oppressed, Peeples, over the course of his four albums is a powerful voice telling us what the networks and syndicates won’t.
Punishing The Myth, his third album to be produced by Gurf Morlix kicks against the pricks and punctures the balloon of hypocrisy that populates the American Dream. Peeples sings about outsiders including a lesbian aunt and a revolutionary while he takes a pop at himself and his ilk on the opening song You’re A Slave To Your Imagination where he writes
“You call it art but you’re just jerking off, all you want to do is make a name for yourself, sucking up to owners and promoters, could it be any good if it’s something you sell?”
before going on to say “Yea its true every song is just a compromise, but every now and then I find a word’ll ring true, I hang my hat on a hook I know’ll get um, then I scribble down some crap and I call it a tune.” The irony here is that it’s a rollicking good tune with Sarah Mac trading vocals with Peeples over a wicked bluesy groove with organ and cornet in the driving seat over finely picked electric guitar and that’s true of all of the songs here. Peeples songs are first and foremost eminently listenable and on the face of it Punishing The Myth is an excellent album of country, folk and blues that will please fans of Willie Nelson, Guy Clark, J.J. Cale and Mr. Morlix himself.

Who Woulda Thunk It, the one cover on the album (written by Greg Brown) is another cracking bluesy number with Knopfleresque guitar snaking throughout while the lyrics connect with the overall sense of the album that Americans are sleepwalking to doom, relying on Mastercard and Visa instead of being self reliant. This belief is hammered home by Peeples on the spoken word High Octane Generation where he thunders against the pampered state of present day car owners who rely on the bleeps and alarms on their space age dashboards but who are unable to check their oil. This could have become a Luddite rant but Peeples changes gear to celebrate the automobile as an allegory of the “passions, and ideals that mapped out our interior destinations across the crooked fields of time” before lamenting that owning a car that can park itself appears to be nothing to be ashamed of these days.

Peeples hammers oligarchs and Wall Street in The New American Dream while The Morning After The Coup appears to share The Who’s sentiment of “meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” I Can’t Imagine Him Carrying a Carbine subverts a father’s greeting to his new born son as he fears he’ll not be fit to defend the revolution and guns feature in She Was a Wildflower as the narrator remembers “watching her swing from the barrel of an M1 rifle.” There’s a militant feel to many of the songs, Peebles says of himself “I’m a vegetarian that watches NASCAR, a tree-hugger that keeps a gun under the seat,” but his recollection of his lesbian aunt “Aunt Lou” has a tender edge to it while acknowledging her bravery.

Peeples ends the album with an excellent live recording, “It’s Too Late to Live In Austin,” that firmly places him in the Texas story telling tradition as he tells of a night in “this myth-ridden city” with vocal support again from Sarah Mac. The highlight of the album however is the dark country duet, The Hanging where he’s joined by Eliza Gilkyson who sings wonderfully on what is a powerful portrait of an execution and in its chorus damns the death penalty. A powerful song on a powerful album.

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Beverley Martyn. The Phoenix and the Turtle. Les Cousins Records

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Remembered primarily as the late John Martyn’s wife and his musical companion on two albums in the early seventies, Beverley Martyn is the latest female folk singer to return from their wilderness years (think Vashti Bunyan, Shelagh McDonald, Linda Perhacs and Linda Thompson) with The Phoenix and the Turtle, her first release in 14 years. Although she’ll be forever linked with her ex husband (and indeed she retains his surname instead of reverting to her birth surname, Kutner) Beverley was the one first signed and recorded in the sixties, releasing singles on the Deram label but refusing to be marketed as the “UK Cher” by Denny Cordell. Instead she fell in with the folk crowd befriending Davey Graham, Bert Jansch (she’s pictured on the cover of Jansch’s 1965 album It Don’t Bother Me.) and Paul Simon with whom she went to the States, contributed to Bookends and appeared at the Monterey Pop festival. Meeting and marrying John Martyn led the pair to record as a duo with Stormbreaker, their first album being recorded in Woodstock with Levon Helm on drums followed swiftly by The Road To Ruin, both released in 1970. Thereafter Martyn forged his solo career while Beverley brought up the kids. Unfortunately it was a tempestuous relationship fraught with domestic violence eventually forcing her to flee, divorcing in 1980.

Aside from a solo album in 1998, No Frills, Martyn disappeared from the music scene. She credits producer and guitarist Mark Pavey for nurturing her return, hitching up with him in the studio after seeing his efforts to support Davie Graham in his final years. Now in her sixties Martyn’s voice shows signs of wear and tear however anyone who remembers her clarion voice on Sweet Honesty or Auntie Aviator all those years ago will still recognise her here. An autobiographical collection of sorts the album is comprised of songs gathered by Martyn throughout her career from folk blues with her first jug band, The Levee Breakers up to more recent songs that show she still revisits her time with her errant spouse.

The album kicks off with a song that has been somewhat newsworthy over the past few weeks, billed as a new and previously unrecorded Nick Drake song, Reckless Jane. The Martyn’s befriended Drake (with Solid Air generally considered to be a tribute to him) and Beverley co-wrote this song with Drake “as a bit of a joke.” That it takes pole position might be a canny marketing ploy while its languorous guitar and piano with Robert Kirby styled string arrangement certainly pitch for the Drake audience but aside from all of that its a handsome song and Martyn carries it off well. Potter’s Blues is much more Martyn’s song as she sings about and around Dennis Potter’s play Blue Remembered Hills introducing the concept of nostalgia and remembrance to the album. A sturdy modern folk song it wouldn’t be out of place on Dylan’s Time Out of Mind album as Martyn sings with the voice of experience and regret, a great song. She next dives into the past with Going To Germany, a Gus Cannon song she sang back in the sixties. Unfortunately her voice isn’t as flexible as it used to be and as a result the song suffers as does her other foray into her jug band past on Levee Breaks with the band stumbling on their take of the blues which is somewhat stilted. Sweet Joy was the first song Martyn recorded and here she sounds just a little bit like her contemporary Marianne Faithfull while the song is a neat snapshot of mid sixties folk innocence.

Women & Malt Whisky points the finger at her husband’s demons as Martyn recalls the good and bad times with a resigned air that can match Mary Gauthier, if the Coen brothers ever decide to make a movie on the sixties UK folk scene then their soundtrack starts here. The album closes with the most upbeat number, Jesse James, which is tempting to suppose is again about John as Beverley sings that she loves his face but recognises the danger he poses.

All in all The Phoenix & The Turtle (named after a Shakespeare poem on the death of an ideal love) is a well crafted album that should be welcomed by all who lend an ear to the UK folk legacy from the sixties with Beverley Martyn proving to be a survivor who still has things to say.

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Birds of Chicago. Live From Space

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J.T. Nero and Alison Russell’s Birds of Chicago album was one of the best releases of last year capturing the pair in top form vocally as they wrapped their soulful voices around their excellent songs. Live from Space offers listeners the opportunity to hear the live experience as Nero and Russell, with a five piece band behind them, heave into Evanston, Illinois what must have been a doozie of a night. Recorded warts and all with no overdubs the first impression one has that there are no warts on show, the songs flow, the musicians rise to the occasion and the singing is as well done as in the studio, at times it’s hard to recall that this is a live album. Second impression however is that much of what we hear does not add to the studio recordings and the lack of introductions, tuning, glitches (there must have been at least one) means that there is a somewhat sterile air to the affair. This isn’t Live At Leeds or Kick Out The Jams.

Having said that the album is a delight from start to finish and there are moments when the spirit of the evening is captured with Prairie Lullaby standing out with its loose limbed canter, guitar jabs and tootling clarinet almost adding to a mini jam towards the end of the song. It’s a lengthy album, 76 minutes and 17 songs long and it does ebb and flow much like a live show would. There’s a definite peak six songs in with the aforementioned Prairie Lullaby followed by a superb Mountains/Forests that does gain from the live setting with Nero’s vocals impassioned as he strains to let the words tumble out. The best is kept to the end as the band whip themselves (and the audience) into a mild frenzy. Fever Dream‘s driving bass line develops into a powerful soul stew with a Booker T and the MGs’ urgency as Nero and Russell spar on vocals like Inez and Charlie Foxx. Trampoline gets a soul makeover, losing some of its original sunny disposition but gaining a solid soul groove.

Live From Space is a snapshot of a particular night and as such it does its job. Nero and Russell are the core, the heart and soul of the band and as the sleeve notes say they appear as a duo, trio, a quartet and occassionally, the “Cadillac edition,” seven strong. This is the Cadillac show and its unlikely to appear on these shores so the album is an essential for fans of the band. For newbies it might be best to start with last years album

They’re appearing in the UK this month and next as a four piece we believe, dates below
APRIL – UK
Thurs 24 Portsmouth The Square Tower
Fri 25 Whitstable The Royal Native Oyster Stores
Sat 26 Lewes The Elephant & Castle
Sun 27 Birmingham The Kitchen Garden Café
Tues 29 Hempstead, nr. Saffron Walden The Bluebell Inn
Weds 30 London Green Note
MAY – Ireland & N. Ireland
Fri 2 Dundalk Vantastival
Sat 3 Enniskillen Ardhowen Theatre
Mon 5 Dingle, Co. Kerry McCarthy’s Bar, Féile na Bealtaine Music & Arts Festival
Thurs 8 Clonmel, Co. Tipperary Raheen House Hotel
Fri 9 Galway Monroe’s co-headline with Liam Ó Maonlaí
Sat 10 Ballybofey, Co. Donegal Balor Arts Centre
Sun 11 Dublin Whelan’s
Mon 12 Ballymore Eustace Mick Murphy’s
Tues 13 Kildare Cunningham’s

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The David Latto Band. Here Today, Ghost Tomorrow EP

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The local talent keeps piling it on with this excellent EP from Fife’s David Latto Band. Blabber’n’Smoke reviewed Latto’s last album here saying it was a “fine slice of country influenced songs featuring some fine back porch picking and an excellent ear for the idiom.” Since then the band have been gigging hard and last summer they accompanied Blabber’n’Smoke hero Phil Lee on his European tour striking up a camaraderie with the pint sized, wise cracking, knife throwing self proclaimed Mighty King of Love. So much so that one of Lee’s songs is point man for the band’s latest foray, a four song EP released this week which they will be promoting on a mini tour of the central belt before they head off to the continent.
We Cannot Be Friends Anymore (from 2009’s So Long, It’s Been Good to Know You) shows Lee to be much more than a comedic songster with its Dylan like put down and wild mercury sound. The Latto band beef it up somewhat giving it a more pugnacious and defiant air as the guitars churn with Latto more accusatory than Lee, incensed rather than sarcastic. It’s a belter of a song and the band work it up to a fine climax. Here Today, Ghost Tomorrow brings us back to earth with a bump. Starting off with a melancholic voice and strummed guitar it soon shifts gear into a gently propulsive country shuffle with guitar shimmering in the background as Latto describes a ghost town of sorts as folk leave for brighter lights. As relevant to small town Scotland as a US troubadour singing about their homeland the badlands of Fife are commemorated here in a manner that James Yorkston might be proud of. Every Now And Then summons up some Caledonia soul with the band laying down a fine backbeat as Latto sings with some conviction although one can’t but regret the lack of some soulful horns which would add a Muscle Shoals touch. Long Time Coming wraps up the EP with a banjo backbone giving a fine rustic feel to a song of aspiration and vision that ripples from the speakers and offers evidence that Latto is growing into a fine songwriter as the song recalls the likes of Jackson Browne in his early years.

The EP’s a steal at only £5 from here while you can catch the band on these dates.

April 19th – Jubilee Hall, Burnturk, SCO

April 27th – Glad Café, Glasgow, SCO

May 9th- Summerhall, Edinburgh, SCO

June 28th- House Concert, Lincolnshire, ENG

June 29th – The Cask in Hand, Holbeach, ENG

July 1st – TBC, FRA

July 2nd – Metz en Fete, Metz,FRA

July 3rd – Le Lapin Blanc, Réding, FRA

July 4th – TBC, FRA

July 5th – Le Bouche a Oreille, Villenueve sur Yonne, FRA

July 6th – TBC, FRA

August 2nd- Moniaive Memorial Hall, SCO

The Redlands Palomino Company. Broken Carelessly. Clubhouse Records.

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It’s looking to be a good year for what one might loosely term “alt country” albums with Scots acts the New Madrids and Red Pine Timber Company handing in excellent efforts so far. Time now to look to London to see what’s cooking down there and keeping their end up are The Redlands Palomino Company whose fourth album, Broken Carelessly is released this week. The Palominos are a classic UK “Americana” band with a sound that ranges from pedal steel laced country songs to jangled pop and rock while remaining true to their local roots. In addition their not so secret weapon is the wonderful voice of Hannah Elton-Wall (who’s had several mentions on Blabber’n’Smoke recently as backing or harmony singer on various albums). Here she sings like an angel and is the primary songwriter while hubby Alex adds his voice to several of the songs and produces. Recorded almost live in a Methodist Chapel in rural Gloucestershire within the space of a week there’s an immediacy and intimacy to the songs that is welcoming and reflects the recording environment which took on an air of a farewell party for drummer Dan Tilbury who emigrated to Denmark immediately the recording was over.

In these Lines opens the album with the band chuckling in the studio before launching into what is an almost perfect song. Hannah Elton-Wall’s voice is buttressed by acoustic guitar before the pedal steel and some chunky guitar chording kick in. Effortlessly she sings a bitter sweet lovelorn story with the ambiguity reflected by the honeyed pedal steel of Dave Rothon and a gritty guitar solo from guest Tom Bowen. Solitary Strangers has Alex on lead vocals on another honey slide of a song with some more grit in it as it picks up momentum. While it’s not as immediate as its predecessor it has an energy which should translate well into a live performance. On a roll by now Everything I’m Not is another up-tempo sad love song fuelled by jangling guitar and mandolin with the rhythm section gently propelling it along. These three songs epitomise the Palomino experience, loping country rock with vigorous breaks from the guitarists so it’s a surprise when the title song starts off as if they were about to dive headlong into glam rock. With a riff borrowed from The Sweet (believe it or not) Hannah sings about a Palomino horse with a free spirit while Rothon attempts to temper the propulsive beat and power chords with his pedal steel. It’s a bold effort but one that requires further perusal. No qualms about Don’t Ever Let Me Down however as it’s a country laced jaunt while She Can Live Without You , written by Rothon and with Alex on vocals heads into Teenage Fanclub territory with a fine chunky power pop feel. While Alex also offers us the woozy Floorboard George that sounds as if The Felice Brothers were recording on a cider binge the high points of the album are to be found in a brace of songs towards the end. Scattered Earth recalls Emmylou Harris’s ambient style from Wrecking Ball with mallets and subdued strumming swaddling Hannah’s voice. Swim is an impressionistic canvas with Hannah as a submariner drifting at the mercy of the current as organ swells billow and wave. The Big Freeze is another atmospheric piece, the lyrics dominated by images of snow and ice with the band tobogganing along as the pedal steel curls and weaves. Hannah sounds wonderful here, gliding above the music, soaring at times. They end the album on a valedictory note with Band Song which is like a diary entry as Hannah sings of the trials, tribulations and ultimately the reasons for being in a band.

“What a stupid thing to try and make money from, but when we’re dead and gone let’s hope these songs live on, oh why do I still try, why am I standing here tonight? It’s because the pedal steel still makes me want to cry.”

Of course the pedal steel weeps throughout as they build up to the climatic chorus which is proud and defiant ending the album ultimately on a high note.

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Dropkick. Homeward

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It’s always nice when an old friend , someone you haven’t seen for a while, turns up and reminds you of why you’re friends in the first place. And so it is with Lothian’s Dropkick who have handed in Homeward after a two year absence. Proudly flagging a quote from The Scotsman that proclaims them Scotland’s third best band (sadly a search didn’t come up with the winner and runner up) the Taylor brother’s band are back to a five piece with Ian Grier still on keyboards and Scott Tobin( bass) and Mike Foy (drums) coming on board for what is their 12th album, perhaps giving them first place in Scotland’s most prolific band lists. While the band have released albums on Spanish and Swedish labels over the past few years they return here to their bespoke label, Taylored Records for what might amount to be their most accomplished effort to date, an album that is polished and proud outgrowing their various influences which have dotted previous album reviews.

Often compared with the likes of The Jayhawks, Wilco, Teenage Fanclub and The Pernice Brothers, Dropkick still drink from the same cup and to my mind have added some of the sonic adventures of The Boo Radleys’ Giant Steps to the mix while Andrew Taylor’s ventures into production (The Wynntown Marshals’ Long Haul) has paid dividends. The result is a multi layered collection of pure pop songs that range from pedal steel laced ballads to more baroque opuses with sumptuous keyboards and occasional studio effects.

Throughout the album the vocal harmonies are polished to a sheen but it’s the arrangements and embellishments that reel you in. Come Home opens the album with simple strummed guitars and an east coast lilt in the vocals but pretty soon a honeyed pedal steel creeps in taking one back to sun dappled Topanga Canyon Days. The discordant start and waspish synths of When It Starts however clouds this paradise before the dizzy and claustrophobic guitar buzz of Halfway Round Again, again augmented by fizzy synth along with a Strawberry Fields like coda, adds a hallucinogenic haze to the mix. Throughout the album the lyrics are somewhat opaque but for the most part seem to be about retaining relationships adding a melancholic air which is best captured on the aching organ drenched Jump Start which features a fine and gutsy guitar crunch while It’s My Life (Not Ours) burns with an ill disguised anger and slopes along with Neil Young guitar picking and some fine bass playing from Tobin while the keyboards add an air of gravitas. Rainbows is perhaps the pick here as a sole harmonica takes us into Dylan territory and Grier’s organ fills offer a glimpse of how The Band might have sounded had they hung about Edinburgh folk clubs. They close the album with a classic miniature on Carry Me Home. Acoustic guitar and piano open before a lonesome pedal steel (by guest Tim Davidson) offers an audio equivalent to the sun going down on this latest offering.

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Homeward is released on 18th April and Dropkick are playing a short tour to celebrate the release. Good news for vinyl junkies is that the album will be available on 180 gram black vinyl in full colour sleeve, with lyric insert sheet, download code and a CD digipak version of ‘Homeward’ which you can order here.

Fri 11th April @ Twa Tams, Perth. 8.30pm. Free entry. With The Galipaygos.
Thu 17th April @ Clarks on Lyndsay St, Dundee. 8pm. Free entry. With The Galipaygos.
Fri 18th April @ Sneaky Pete’s, Edinburgh. Doors 7pm. £5 entry. With The Galipaygos.
Sat 19th April @ The Tea Posy, High St, Dingwall. 1.30pm. Acoustic set.
Sat 19th April @ Mad Hatters/Hootenany, Inverness. 9.30pm. With The Galipaygos.

Cahalen Morrison & Eli West. I’ll Swing My Hammer With Both My Hands.

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Firm favourites here at Blabber’n’Smoke Cahalen Morrison & Eli West don’t disappoint with their third release, I’ll Swing My Hammer With Both My Hands. Their previous discs, The Holy Coming of The Storm and Our Lady of The Tall Trees are two of our favourite albums of the past three years inspiring quotes such as “They write songs that sound as if they have been disinterred from dusty archives” and “tales as strong as an Oak with language that seems to be hewn from ancient timber.” I’ll swing My Hammer With Both Hands continues in this vein although first impressions are of a less bare boned approach on some songs with producer Tim O’Brien adding his mandolin and bouzouki to the duo’s sound along with bassist Erin Youngblood while fiddle is added by Ryan Drickey (who appeared on The Holy Coming Of The Storm) and Brittany Haas. This string band approach allows them the opportunity to have a full blown hoedown on Living In America that Bill Monroe could have been proud of while Natural Thing To Do is an excellent old time country ballad with forlorn fiddles adding a fine Hickory touch to the wearied words. The fiddle returns for the dramatic Sinner Come Home, a fire and brimstone sermon with apocalyptic imagery. Surprisingly there’s no fiddle on the opening song, Fiddlehead Fern, just the sweet interplay between Morrison and West, complementing each other perfectly and harmonising as only they can do, voices rough hewn yet beautiful. The fiddlehead fern referred to in the title is indeed a young fern shoot, cooked, somewhat like Asparagus, in parts of North America. However at the end of the album there is an instrumental reprise of the song which does indeed feature a fiddle so no need to feel short changed.

The bulk of the album allows Morrison and West to appear as they do live, Morrison playing banjo, mandolin bouzouki and Dobro, West on guitar and bouzouki (although O’Brien does beef up the sound on a few songs), with Morrison writing the songs . Again Morrison seems able to conjure up songs that wouldn’t sound out of place on a scratchy 78 as Pocket Full Of Dust uses depression era language to describe a lovelorn loner while his lyrics paint vivid pictures such as ” My love’s a sparrow, she weaves a blazing thread. She flies in crimson when the sky is burning red. She sharpens like an arrow as the evening turns to rust.” James Is Out is a pleasure to listen to as their deceptively simple sounding guitar and banjo ramble and pluck while they sing a childlike vision of a rural family forced to cope on their own with a fierce family pride refusing to accept that poverty might be an issue. Down In The Lonesome Draw stands as the centrepiece of the album, a sepia toned portrait of the westward expansion, not so much Go West Young Man than the trials and tribulations of the settlers, burnt by the sun and with the promised land always one more town away, “Here’s to the great expanse, where everything is a poisonous dance.”

There are three cover songs included. H.W. Vanhoose’s Going To Live In Green Pastures ( familiar perhaps to fans of Emmylou Harris) is a fine gospel outing that allows Morrison and West to showcase their harmony singing, more so in their version of the Louvin Brothers’ Lorene as the duo are surely indebted to the Louvin’s (with the debt fully paid here). Voices of Evening comes from the pen of Alice Gerrard, another singer who drinks from the old time well. A funeral dirge to the departed it sounds as if it were recorded in a sylvan cathedral as the departed’s soul goes heavenward. Even a confirmed atheist could consider this for their own last calling card.

Suffice to say that I’ll Swing My Hammer With Both My Hands is another triumph for Morrison and West. Often the PR blurbs that accompany album releases are sheer hyperbole but one instance in the one sheet that came with this speaks volumes. “An effort to touch the unknown with eyes closed and fingers wrapped around the neck of your instrument and voices raised in beautiful harmony.” Well put. Finally it’s worthwhile noting that the packaging of the CD is handsome indeed for all of those pondering if a download would suffice.
Cahalen Morrison & Eli West are touring the UK from April 30th. Dates below.

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Tour dates

Wed Apr 30: The Garret Sessions at Queens Head, Fyfield, Essex
Thur May 1: The Green Note, London
Fri May 2: The Workhouse, Presteigne, Powys, Mid Wales
Sat May 3: The Walker Theatre (Theatre Severn), Shrewsbury
Sun May 4: The Cross Inn, Haverfordwest, Pembs
Tues May 6: Red Rooms, Cookstown
Wed May 7: Balor Arts Centre, Ballybofey, Co Donegal
Thur May 8: Whelan’s, Dublin
Fri May 9: Baltimore Fiddle Fair, Co Cork, Ireland
Sun May 11: Caedmon Hall, Gateshead
Mon May 12: Church on the Green, Denholm
Tues May 13: House concert, Edinburgh
Wed May 14: House concert, Edinburgh
Thur May 15: Acoustic Music Club, Kirkcaldy
Fri May 16: Glenbuchat Village Hall, Aberdeenshire
Sat May 17: The CatStrand, New Galloway
Sun May 18: The Barrels Alehouse, Berwick-upon-Tweed

Simone Felice. Strangers.

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felice

Where to start with this second solo album from Simone Felice, the poster boy of current Americana with a honeyed voice, great songwriting chops and a back story that could fuel several LA screenwriters for the next few years? Famously near dead on two occasions Felice transcended the (very fine) roots rock of his brotherly band in his guise as the Duke and The King before he delivered the Cri de Coeur that was his initial solo album. Two years on and he sounds less pained, not as vulnerable but as transcendent as ever.

The opening romp, Molly-O! is a fine slice of blue eyed country pop soul with the zest of Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl in its DNA and sets one up for a sun kissed celebration of life. Instead we get a tremendous collection of metaphysical ruminations expertly played and always with Felice’s voice singing to the heavens. He drapes himself in a Gene Clark cloak for If You Go To LA, a banjo led and orchestrated hymn to the city of Angels which emphasises its spiritual emptiness while Running Through My Head carries on in this vein with Biblical allusions, the opening lines paraphrasing Psalm 23. Our Lady of The Gun is a powerful and visceral dissection of American calamities combining school shootings with armed forces lost in a desert war both trying to find some sense in their teachings about God and the Devil. With pummelling percussion and heavenly harmonies it comes across as a secular hymn to much that is wrong with America today.

Felice is sure footed throughout the album as he delivers the sepia toned Bye Bye Palenville and the velvety Heartland which recalls David Lynch’s trick of peeling back the white picket fence of normality revealing a dark cocaine fuelled underbelly. Finally he strips away the veneer for the initially stark Bastille Day which swells with vocal arrangements as Felice attempts to escape the turmoil with his “skin on skin” lover before the closing song The Gallows where Felice offers himself as some sort of sacrificial lamb, transcendent and ascendant. One is tempted here to wonder whether Felice suffers from some messianic complex, taking on the world’s guilt and figuring he can atone (given that he has been resurrected) but there’s no doubting the beauty of this and of the album overall. Suffice to say that Felice sings like an angel and that the songs sound heavenly. Happily enough he’s bringing the songs to the UK with a short tour. Tour dates are ;
April

Wed 2 Birmingham, Hare & Hounds
Thu 3 Leeds, Brundell Social Club
Fri 4 Bristol, Louisiana
Sat 5 Nottingham, Maze
Sun 6 Manchester, Deaf Insitute
Wed 9 Brighton, Komedia
Thu 10 London, Bush Hall
Fri 11 Glasgow, King Tuts
Sun 13 Newcastle, Cluny
Tue 15 Edinburgh, Electric Circus

Bronwynne Brent. Stardust.

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Brent

Over the past few years it seems that the tsunami of talent that appears at the Folk Alliance International gathering in Kansas eventually laps up on our shores as promoters and distributers sign deals to release albums and set up tours in old Blighty. The first wave of 2014 is Mississippi’s Bronwynne Brent with her second release Stardust and if any that follow are half as good then we’re in for a treat.

The cover art portrays Brent as a flower garlanded hippie songstress with an ever so slight resemblance to Joni Mitchell back in the days. However one listen to her voice and thoughts of Mitchell fly out the window as Brent has an earthiness that forever eluded Joni’s rarefied atmosphere. Instead Brent has that seemingly untutored and effortless way of singing that borders on the idiosyncratic with the weight of emotion on its shoulders. Immensely attractive and engaging Brent’s voice is in the tradition of singers like Billie Holiday, Karen Dalton, Melanie and Alela Diane while at times there’s even a hint of the late Amy Winehouse on the more up-tempo numbers here.

The beguiling vocals are the entree to the album’s pleasures but Brent proves to have a way with words as she sings of loss and despair for the most part. The songs portray abandoned women, betrayed, trying to find some comfort in their inner worlds but condemned to relive their tragedies in their memories. It’s not a happy album but happily Brent has embroidered her words with some exceptionally fine music which ranges from the glacial folk noire of Devil Again to the rustbucket blues of Bulletproof and the tombstone Mexicana of Lay Me Down. She’s ably assisted in this by producer Johnny Sangster’s guitar skills whether it be twangy reverb or country picking while the drumstool is occupied by the unmistakeable cool of Calexico’s John Convertino, reason enough some might think to pick up the album. Add to this the presence of anther Calexico cohort, Jon Rauhouse on pedal steel on several songs and the album’s pedigree is impeccable. Well recommended.

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Brock Zeman. Rotten Tooth. Busted Flat Records

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Rotten_Tooth

Blabber’n’Smoke liked Canadian Brock Zeman‘s last offering, Me Then You back in 2012 with its taut and sinewy rock with a hint of blue collar Steve Earle in the tales it told. We also noted his production and playing on the magnificently doomed Tom House released on Zeman’s label, Mud Records. Now he’s back with Rotten Tooth, an eleven song self penned collection which, while no great departure from its predecessor other than a hint of influence from the boho bawling of Tom Waits which colours a few of the numbers, Zeman himself says

“I learned an awful lot from recording Nashville singer/songwriter Tom House over the last few years and it’s led me to some unexpected places and given me some brand new eyes and ears.”

House’s album was a frank journey into a booze driven American underbelly and it may be that his words have spurred Zeman into being somewhat more visceral on some of his songs, most notably the opening title song which starts off with a sample of a dental instruction on how to extract a tooth. Pretty soon Zeman growls into view over a savage acoustic blues riff before the band hammers in. Gnarly as hell Zeman sings

“I’m the only rotten tooth in my family’s mouth/Take more than pliers just to pull me out/I’m on the shady side of my family tree/That crooked little branch that wouldn’t grow straight
The little grease fire that you can’t put out/Ya, I’m the only rotten tooth in my family’s mouth/Black clouds fill the sky wherever I travel/My footsteps sound like a judge’s gavel/
Hell spit me out and heaven don’t want me/Because I’m mean as a rattlesnake and twice as ugly/Won’t you write this on my stone before they lay me down/That I’m the only rotten tooth in my family’s mouth.”

OK, there’s a thousand songs out there about black sheep but Zeman delivers this with a ferocity that is breathtaking and it’s begging to be placed on the credits of some hillbilly murdering tale on HBO. Zeman runs with this bad blood throughout the album. Neighbour fights, murder, the Lord’s retribution all feature with Zeman and guitarist Blair Hogan playing some fine gutbucket blues. This grimness is leavened musically with some songs delivered in a lighter style with cello employed on occasion such as on the convoluted murder ballad Where Words Mean Nothing as the vaulting tune belies the blood stained lyrics. Overall we’re looking at Americana Noire.

The Waits influence is at its height on two songs. Dreamland Motel is a wordy squall describing the titular no star abode

“I ain’t ever stayed in a place like this before/The toilet is talking to the sink about the blood on the floor/And if I make it through the night I swear on my skin/That it’s Travel Lodge baby from now on in.”

Sending Strange Weather takes the Waits’ model and adds some Jim White to the mix as Zeman warns of the coming Apocalypse with hoodoo guitar and strangled voices. It’s a tremendous cut and with songs like these Zeman deserves to be better known. Suffice to say that if you think Robert Mitchum’s Rev. Harry Powell could strap on a guitar then this might be an album he would make.

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