Some albums just take root on first listening and so it is with Hadley McCall Thackston’s debut offering. From the first flutterings of the opening song, Butterflies, to the closing Last Mountain Waltz the album springs, fully formed, from Miss Thackston’s imaginative mind and the excellent arrangement and production skills of Hugh Christopher Brown. A Georgia native, Thackston began writing many of these songs on her front porch and one can imagine she could have delivered a fine album of unadorned simplicity given that she is a fine writer and excellent singer (and you can see her singing in such a manner on a YouTube video here). In a serendipitous manner however a friend of her mother’s saw one such video and alerted his producer chum who invited her to make an album with him. Thus it was that David Corley introduced her to Brown and pretty soon Thackston was in Canada’s Wolfe Island recording with the musical community who seem to infest the island.
It’s no disrespect to Thackston to say that the musical accompaniment and arrangements are half the delight here. Her songs are elevated throughout whether it be glorious country embellishments or poppier retro sounds which come across as if Amy Whitehouse and her producer, Mark Ronson, had decided to ditch the horn section and replace it with banjos, fiddle and accordion. This element is most pronounced on the driving beat of Ellipsis which stomps along with a sassy strut and finger popping chorus. They repeat the trick on Somehow where Thackston really channels Whitehouse vocally over a gypsy fiddle and on the dramatic No which has Thackston’s vocals multitracked and where a horn does parp up, both songs incidentally having lyrics which one could easily imagine Whitehouse singing.
A couple of songs retain a porch like simplicity within the arrangements. The opening Butterfly is a charming breeze of a song which recalls a more innocent time when the likes of Julie Felix were popular entertainers although lyrically it’s a timely call to arms for women and girls setting out on life to set their sights high. Last Mountain Waltz is more traditional with rippling mandolin and weeping strings although again there’s a powerful undertow of being shackled by society’s expectations. Elsewhere Redbird is a meditation on the power of belief wafted aloft by sonorous strings and hazy guitars and Devil or Angel finds Thackston in a vampish mood, an Eve tempting her Adam as she sings, “I’m a devil dressed in angel’s wings, man, did I have you fooled. If I did, I’m not sorry,” as the band slope along in Weimar cabaret style.
Two songs stand out. Change is a deceptively pretty country song replete with weeping pedal steel and rippling mandolin with Thackston speaking out on the #blacklivesmatter theme as she describes watching yet another news item on an unarmed black man shot dead by police, “Each death sewn into life’s tapestry, each stitch a blemish on our history that time cannot erase.” It’s a powerful song. Wallace’s Song (Sage Bush) is the opposite in that it’s an excellent uptempo country love song with a clever chorus referencing one of country music’s enduring duos. It’s a good enough song to get Ms. Thackston up onto that Grand Ole Opry stage.
Peace on earth or at least peace on Wolfe Island, the island musical community nestled between Canada and the USA close to the great lakes which Chris Brown calls home for much of the time. An acclaimed producer and multi instrumentalist, Brown has helmed several albums we’ve reviewed in the past including the mighty debuts from 
The opening act was the wonderful David Corley. David played a divine set featuring songs from his first album Available Light and the follow up Zero Moon (released this month). That David is even here playing is remarkable given that he suffered a major heart attack whilst playing onstage in Holland less than18 months ago. His whisky soaked voice, reminiscent at times of Tom Waits, holds the audience spellbound. Highlights include Available Light and the marvellous Down With The Universe from his latest release. Mention has to be made of the sublime keyboard playing of Canadian Chris Brown and the subtle drumming of Gregor Beresford (who came on as a half time substitute!)
Next on stage was the much-travelled Peter Bruntnell and his band. Your correspondent has seen Peter many times in various, mainly small, venues in the UK and Ireland. The larger stage here allowed Peter and his band (the magnificent Dave Little on guitar, Peter Noone on drums and Mike Clews on bass) to broaden their sound. His set contained crowd pleasers Here Come The Swells, his anti Trump Mr Sunshine, the mighty Yuri Gagarin from his latest album (Nos Da Comrade) and the show topping By The Time My Head Gets To Phoenix.
Closing the night were the Irish band John Blek and The Rats. Front man John O’Connor is a larger than life character whose frame belies the most gentlest of singing voices. He and his five piece band, including the brilliant Anne Mitchell on keyboards, presided over a rollicking set containing the sing-a-long Calling Out My Name, the poignant The Barman, The Barfly And Me and a magnificent rendition of Neil Young’s Don’t Let It Bring You Down.
A late night and the need for some brunch meant that I missed the first act on the Saturday – Nadine Khouri. By all accounts she performed a great set which I now regret missing. Next up was Jack Marks, a Canadian singer who was completely new to me, He and his two sidekicks – Leslie Ann Christi on drums and her husband, Alistair, on bass – played a faultless set featuring Americana ballads that could have been taken from The John Prine songbook. Brilliant story telling songs full of imagery that had me spellbound. A great new find and well worth looking out for.
Next up was another new to me British artist, David Ford. In contrast to the previous act, David, played solo and entertained us with his wonderful set of strong gritty songs whilst backing himself via a loop system incorporating guitar, keyboards, drums and a variety of percussion instruments. His heart felt To Hell With The World had me mesmerised – think Bruce Springsteen meets Billy Joel. The song that he sang eschewing the rampant greed for stardom – the title of which I have forgotten – was worth the price of entry on its own. Another wonderful act which was followed by the incomparable Erin Rae and The Meanwhiles. This American songstress is in the mould of Iris DeMent and Kate Campbell Succulent, intimate, songs, sung in a wonderfully understated voice with backing vocals provided by her brilliant guitarist Jerry Berhardt. She sings to you as if you are the only person in the room, nay universe. The haunting Clean Slate is the pick from a most wonderful set. The need for food and the chance to have a chat with Erin Rae on the terrace means that I miss most of the following band’s performance. That which I did catch from the German band, Torpus And The Art Directors, was interesting. Fairly standard Americana stuff (hints of Wilco) with the quirky addition of a trombone-playing front man.
And so to the highlight of the weekend. The ever popular, spectacularly hard working Danny and The Champions Of The World. I can’t count the number of times that I have seen this band. They never fail to deliver. In Danny Champ they must have the most effervescent front man in Roots music. They play with a tightness that only comes with much hard work on and off the road mixing songs from their soon to be released album with a host of crowd-pleasing favourites. Particular favourites on the night included (Never Stop Building) That Old Space Rocket, Stop Thief, Clear Water and they finished with the ever popular, crowd sing-a-long that is Henry The Van.
