Beautiful Skeletons - Gavin Clark

Track list:

1. Crazy
2. Spinning Round the Sun
3. Hurricane
4. Black Blood
5. Crazy On the Weekend
6. Elaine's Place
7. Never Came for Us
8. Spotlight for Sunshine
9. Stems
10. The Russian
11. Calling in the Cards
12. The Years Have Loved Us
13. When We Had Faces
14. Painted Glass
15. Raise a Vein
16. Open & Shut Case
17. Low Are the Punches
18. Never Seen the Sea
19. The Lost Choices
20. Roll Away Remain
21. Bermondsey Stutter
22. I Dreamt of God

Running time: 76 minutes
Released: 2014

So my next post was supposed to be Clayhill, which will now come next. In setting that post up I found out two things. One, that Gavin Clark had passed away 2 years ago and two, that he left this album behind when he did, so I bought it.

This is a first listen, a first listen in 3 weeks of ridiculous busy life, and a rather unknown quantity. It might have been done sooner had it not been quite so long, but still.

Crazy sounds like it must have been very early in his career. Clark's voice doesn't have the refined edge, or depth, to it that characterised the vocal that I am familiar with. The song is rather bland for it, too, but it short and past quickly. The next track is, like the first, a simple acoustic guitar tune with Clark's vocal. I recognise the song, from Sunhouse's Crazy on the Weekend.  There are a couple more here from that album, too - no surprise since Gavin Clark was the vocalist. I don't remember the tune, despite recognising it - but I suspect that the Sunhouse version has more to recommend it - a greater depth of sound, and a more mature vocal performance.

Ah, there. Hurricane (also a Sunhouse track) finally exhibits Clark's voice with the distinctions that endeared him to me on a cover of Red Snapper's Odd Man Out with his Clayhill bandmates. This tune I really like. It is also a simple number, but there is a harmonica or something in there too, giving a bit more of a layered sound. The three elements combine well and it slips by nicely. It is a dreamy number in some ways, more reminiscent of summer days than hurricane winds.

Gavin Clark falls into a sizable bucket of charismatic but flawed singers that I like. Character of voice is sometimes more powerful than pitch perfection. There is a gravelly note to it, a fag-burned, whisky soaked rawness and authenticity. A plaintive tone, a vulnerability dressed up in manliness. A warmth, a reality. When a voice like this is on song... ugh, train of thought broken by horrible overdrive and feedback screech on an electric guitar. Once I adjust to the screechy sound it's not so bad, but it stood out a mile from what went before and what comes immediately after. Not a nice surprise sound at all.

We hit a run of very short tracks - as in sub-2 minutes. I tend to find short tunes distracting... not enough time to get into them or have them really tell their tale. That said short and focused can really work. Here the tunes rather drift by - nothing particularly standing out. I find myself wondering about the whys and wherefores of these recordings. Clearly some are early demos of tunes cut later with bands, but even after I heard his voice and knew who he was, Clark had no profile as a solo artist that I was aware of - more as a voice for hire - e.g. with UNKLE.

The overall theme here seems to be confessional, almost apologetic. The soft meandering guitar work, the slow and deliberate vocals. Black Blood, with its harsh electrics feels like a massive curveball given the context of the rest thus far.

Ooh, there is bit more depth and life again in The Russian. A plinky-plonky nature to the sound gives it both a hint of the Old West and a breath of new life. This time the tonal shift works because it is not a complete change of instrument - it is still very much an acoustic string-lead piece, just with the additional backing of a keyboard. Clark gives it some solemnity over the top of a simple enough but lively tune, and I find the overall effect quite enjoyable. My general opinion on this collection is that it is so-so, however my affinity for Clark's voice is such that he can elevate some frankly underwhelming songs to enjoyable pass-times. He didn't have the songwriting chops of a Tom Waits, the croon of a Terry Callier, but he had heart, soul and sincerity which go quite a long way.

I find myself without many thoughts worth sharing. Too much is either a repetition of something said above or without relevance to the tunes at hand. I would happily digress but those thoughts are rather... dull and typing anything at all pulls me out of the stupour, the gentle state of relaxation that I am finding myself collapsing in to. It is good to have got to this at last, for it is the low-key evening that I needed, yet still productive.

There is no pace to the tracks, they all seem to be sedate numbers. Lazy reverie. The pace of the album as a whole is odd - shaken up not by changes to pace or tone of the tracks (Black Blood and The Russian as notable exceptions here - for worse and better), but by the variable lengths. This last quarter of the collection looks likely to be the most samey as everything here is ~3.30 or more. To be clear I don't mind this. The gentle pace fits quite well with how I am feeling, the end of the middle day of a long weekend. I seriously doubt I would ever choose these tracks as my poison for any given scenario, but I have to say that I am enjoying not taking it too seriously, kicking back and letting it wash over me. The familiarity of Clark's voice allows for that.

Never Seen the Sea is familiar, too; it was on the soundtrack to This is England (director Shane Meadows knew Clark well) - a series I never watched, but I have the soundtrack to all the same. This track has more depth to it. It is a shame that more here doesn't have that to be honest. Clark is generally good to listen to, but a good vocal still benefits from a good crucible. I find myself checking what is left to run because The Lost Choices sounded so much like a closer, but there are a few more to go yet. There is a tiredness creeping in to Clark's delivery it seems to me... but maybe I am projecting that. A definite sad tinge to the pieces though.

Listening to dead musicians is a weird thing. It is one thing if they died before I heard them, but it feels quite different listening to those that have died since I discovered them. That goes double for those that die young. It doesn't really feel like I'm listening to a ghost, but it does rather make one think of one's own mortality. That eerie feeling is intensified on the final track, with it's title and lyrics of dreaming of God. I'm not religious at all so the thought of reaching out to something beyond the real applies to deities and spectres in equal measure.

Then all is quiet.

Classics for the Heart - Frédéric Chopin

Track list:

2. Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. posth.

Running time: 3 minutes
Released: 1999

This title comes from a 1999 CD release of classical tunes, but I am pretty sure that it was on my computer as a free sample, as I only have the one Chopin track, so I am crediting it to him. The date tag reflects that CD release, not the original date for the piece.

I heard this track relatively recently on Ólafur Arnalds & Alice Sara Ott's The Chopin Project; I doubt that I will pick up on the differences in the performance, so I suspect I might just ditch this but I will see how it sounds before I do so.

It is a nice piano melody, slow and stately pace but with some trills and runs that give it a bit of life. Light touch, fairly high in the register, floating across the room from the speaker.  It sounds... a little tepid? Insular? As if performed in a perspex box, but not for the amusement of those looking in. I don't feel a connection to the piece, even as I rather like it - and I can only put that down to the specific performance and recording. It doesn't strike me as worth maintaining in addition to the Arnalds/Ott offering.

Clannad - Clannad

Track list:

1.Níl Sé Ina La (Níl Sé'n La)
2.Thios Chois Na Trá Domh
3.Brian Boru's March
4.Siobhán Ní Dhuibhir
5.An Mhaighdean Mhara
6.Liza
7.An tOileán Úr
8.Mrs. McDermott
9.The Pretty Maid
10.An Pháirc
11.Harvest Home
12.Morning Dew
13.An Bealach Seo 'ta Romham

Running time: 43 minutes
Released: 1973

I don't really recall the wheres or whys of this purchase. Why this Clannad album (and no others)? Why Clannad at all? I can make a guess at the second question - it must have been after I fell in love with the sound of Gaelic folk song from hearing Julie Fowlis - but the first will remain a mystery. I have preconceptions and prejudices going in here, and I suspect that this might not be the most interesting thing I ever hear, but you never know. It packs 13 tracks into the same time that Vangelis used for 8 on The City last time out, so at least it will keep things moving.

We open with a chanted Gaelic vocal over some resonant drumming and with a suitably ethnic sounding string section. It wanders a bit then falls into a bluesy, bassy solo. It really is a very odd track. I rather like the music but the vocal is atrocious. The overall sound is a hodgepodge of weirdness.

What follows is a more traditional Irish folk sound, the strings  and vocal harmonies both harking back to rural folk music. I am far from impressed or enchanted with it though. A tinny quality to the sound really dates this record, and the sensibilities are more faux-folk than sounding genuine. It's as inaccessible and bland as the ancient film version of Around the World in 80 Days that I have on silent is utterly awful. I find myself more drawn to the subtitles on the film than the notes on the album though; I should turn it off really.

Track 4 seems to be Scarborough Fair by another name - at least the first melody is straight from that standard. Folk tunes were certainly shared and re-used so I guess that is no great surprise. The number is more agreeable for the familiarity, but I have to say I am not enamoured of the female vocalist at all. There are some less aggravating moments here, but I find myself paying less attention with each passing note. It somehow seems to combine the excesses of 70s rock with a horribly cliched approach to folk. It's all so... ridiculous, stereotypical and off-putting.

The extent to which this mess is dated is quite remarkable. Simple harp tunes like Mrs McDermott are on the better end of the offerings here, but even here there is a twangy quality to the sound that is really hard to like. 

The Pretty Maid is actually in English, but the switch of language doesn't help. I have absconded, run out on my duties here... stopped paying attention. None of what I am hearing is engaging me at all. Too bad. Unfortunately not bad in an entertaining way either - it didn't offer me a lot to write about. Repeating the same observations many times does not make for an interesting writing or reading experience, and there isn't anything funny about my dislike of these pieces either. Too cliched is about the size of it. If I didn't already know the date I would have put it as late 60s rather than early 70s, but it has none of the enduring appeal of classics from that age - probably because of the tweeness, and the fact that folk has moved on into more agreeable areas. 

Just waiting for it to stop. There. At last.

The City - Vangelis

Track list:

1. Dawn
2. Morning Papers
3. Nerve Centre
4. Side Streets
5. Good to See You
6. Twilight
7. Red Lights
8. Procession

Running time: 43 minutes
Released: 1990

I remember my dad having this, and hearing it a fair bit whilst in my early teens. I remember this being more immediately accessible than some Vangelis, I remember it including sounds of people going about busy lives in a city. Very much in theme. I do not remember many specifics, and it will be interesting to see how it has aged.

This album is a collection of shorter pieces than I instinctively associate with Vangelis, so I expect it will fly by. Dawn opens in a way I find incredibly reminiscent of Blade Runner (still almost certain to be my most inter-linked post), which is certainly not a bad thing. All soft synthetics it is a gentle beginning, though I would personally suggest that the sounds are more evocative of sundown than sunup.  It ends with footsteps, walking us into the next track with it's odd voice over, busy sounds in the background including emergency sirens, and then a chime and breathy pipe tune that feels more Amazon jungle than Amazon corporate headquarters.

So far the overall effect of the pieces and the theme are at odds rather than in concert, despite the presence of these other sounds. For all that, it is quintessentially Vangelis; relaxing and familiar.

As I type that we tick over and Nerve Centre starts up with exaggerated 80s sounds. I think of  latter-day Pink Floyd as a reference (A Momentary Lapse of Reason era). I also think of Beverley Hills Cop and the fact that this could easily be overlaid on cheesy montage / scene setting sequences in that style of film. Dated. Very, very dated. In some ways it feels as though it would have been dated even before it released. It does, however, for the first time reflect a busier theme, and for all the cheese I don't find it forcing me away; a knowing wry look instead. Opening a track with a motorcycle engine, before settling into a tune structure that evokes 1492 quite strongly is interesting. Obviously this album came first, but I find the similarities between this - ostensibly an urban theme - and that soundtrack for a historical ocean and jungle epic to be surprising. the Blade Runner reference makes sense in context, over-built urban visuals and sounds you would expect to go together, but the flash-forward to 1492 is more incongruous.

For all that the heavy synth sound dates badly, for all that it is hard not to hear the cheese when applying a more modern ear, I still find these tunes very comforting. I don't know if that reflects nostalgia or the craft of the artist. I suspect a little of both. There are musical themes running through here that are so familiar and reliable.

On Good to See You there is the conceit of hearing one half of a conversation, a distant, somewhat muffled female voice talking over a soft theme. It works well enough to break up the monotony of the lower register structural loops, but I find I preferred it when a sax line was used for the same purpose. We are then dropped into the territory of exoticism - a different language to the spoken vocal, and sounds that hint at Asia, a decade on from China. Vangelis is rarely a quick tempo composer, but Twilight is glacially paced. Its soft tones have a sort of swirling wind sound beneath them, faint but effective. This helps call back to another Vangelis album for me, Antarctica, though more because of my associations with the place / word than for any conscious picking up of re-use of musical themes.

My first real disconnect with the compositions comes with Red Lights, which... well, I am not sure what he was aiming at here. The combination of the title, the style, the female voices (no language I can recognise) just jar me out of things. Thankfully it is over quite quickly, and we hit the final number. More sense of where he was to end up on 1492 here. I don't really have much else to add as I find the tune rather nondescript... not because it is bad but little stands out as worthy of particular attention. It is long, giving the structure a long time to bed in, lots of opportunities to vary what happens over the top of that structure, and... lots of run to be a very typical Vangelis track.

It closes by harking back to the beginning - the footsteps and speech from the first two tracks are appended to the closing of the last, and the final sounds we hear are distant sirens muffled into a fade out. There is very little here that feels unique, little to make this album stand out from Vangelis' other works;I find myself OK with that, and I can only put that particular statement down to the nostalgia.

The Cinematic Orchestra Presents: In Motion #1 - Various Artists

Track list:

1. Necrology - The Cinematic Orchestra
2. Lapis - Austin Peralta
3. Outer Space - Dorian Concept & Tom Chant
4. Dream Work - Dorian Concept & Tom Chant
5. Entr'acte - The Cinematic Orchestra
6. Regen- Gary Reverend
7. Manhatta - The Cinematic Orchestra

Running time: 79 minutes
Released: 2012

I love The Cinematic Orchestra. There is something about their style of modern jazz that clicks for me. I am not sure that this will exemplify that though, as it is not really a Cinematic Orchestra album - a greater number of the tracks are contributed by others. I don't remember this one at all really, so it's a step into the unknown a little.

This is a collection of 7 long pieces, soundtracks to short films I think. The opening track is the shortest at over 8 minutes, so I anticipate plenty of time to reflect over the next hour and a half. There are 4 tracks in the middle by invitees, but the album is bookended by the Cinematics. Necrology gets us underway with an assertive rhythm-led piece, keys sparkling above it, light touch space forming around it. As we hit the halfway mark there is a more fully formed melody that shares the track with the drum riff, when suddenly both drop out giving a pause for breath, a sense of wonder and reverence. When the tune picks up again, the drum influence is gone for a while; it rejoins, softer than before, still central, but not as dominant.

I have to say, I rather like it. It doesn't have the same instinctive appeal as the works that drew me to The Cinematic Orchestra in the first instance, but it is very much enjoyable.

Austin Peralta's piece, Lapis, is more strings and classical forms. My initial impressions are so-so. Nice enough but not compelling. That feeling persists 3 minutes in, and whilst the track starts to grow it isn't stirring any great emotion in me as I sit with my breakfast and (decaf) coffee. The first point the tune really grabs my attention is 2/3rds of the way through, it goes still, sparse; every note more important for that. Alas, it is dealing with really high ranges, at which I find the strings more of a screech than a pleasant sound. The overall effect of the piece is pastoral. Whilst those straining high notes introduce a tension to it, that tension is quickly sliced through and comes at the expense of me being thrown out of whatever picture I conjured to the tune prior. From there, we head into space...

My first thoughts about this first of two contributions from composers Dorian Concept and Tom Chant are... well, it doesn't really sound that space-like. Devoid a visual to accompany, this feels decidedly less space-like than, say, Mogwai's Atomic does, to pick something I had cause to listen to part of recently. The disconnect between the title and the actual tune grows wider when a horn pipes up and takes centre-stage. Despite that, I find that the tune is sliding by quite fast, certainly not dragging or feeling unwelcome. Unfortunately I miss the rest of the track as I find that I need to fiddle with my bike lights, charging by USB, as I will be cycling later. Bloody USB splitter was only directing any power to one of them, so I had to play about, unplug my mouse and get them both charging that way. Ugh.

Ironically, Dream Work has plenty of the spacey sounds that Outer Space was lacking, an effect conveyed by soft electronic edges to many of the sounds, and a lot more room to breathe around the major themes. For all that, I don't find myself enchanted by it, there are hard edges to a lot of the sounds - the horns in particular - and it is a touch disjointed for me. It feels like the roomy sounds, smooth strings and the staccato horns are all from different compositions that just happen to be overlaid and playing concurrently. This track does feel like it is dragging by the time it starts to wrap up, to be replaced by a 20 minute epic from the Cinematics. I am grateful for the shift.

The opening of Entr'acte is very soft, quiet and understated. When the sound does rise, it is clear that whilst The Cinematic Orchestra might be the artist credit, this is not in the same vein as most of their work. The long drawn out string notes are nice, the sense of space is very much in keeping with their other work, but this is not a lush jazzy sound. This is a mood piece more reminiscent of a Vangelis or a Sigur Rós; I find myself thinking of Soil Festivities in some places, and the general feel of the Icelandic group's quieter tracks at others.

About 6 and a half minutes in there is a shift in tone, it gets a little darker and more tense. That feeling is intensified as we get a creeping bass sound, which is then overlaid by a sort of shredded pulse sound that I cannot work out. Sounds build around this unsettling centre and it swells until we hit a clear call of a note. Then silence. A piano - a melody like To Build a Home from Ma Fleur. Stirring, beautiful. This sits in the middle of the piece, a clear shift from what went before. I don't think this is really one piece in any real sense. The silences between movements belie that. The melody grows into something only to then immediately die out and shrink back. Strings come to swell the overall sound, but at the same time restore that love of the note unplayed, which seems to be a feature of Cinematics compositions.

This time we get a nice crescendo, a real sense of something building up, a subtle groove to the tune, jazz drumming under the classical swell. Oh yes. The top end gives out to frenetic strings as the drums grow in volume and pace. Those strings open out into more beautiful long notes, contrasting with the tight, breathy drums. The latter half of this piece has been top notch... as I say that we hit a snag in the last couple of minutes, as it turns into a twee little ramble then ends on a dark discord. All a little out of place. That detracts from the brilliance of minutes 12-18 in an unfortunate way, but cannot spoil my overall impression of the piece.

Two to go, and another 20 minutes. The Grey Reverend track, Regen, is also credited as a J. Swinscoe (the driving force behind the Cinematics) composition in my file metadata but I have no idea whether this is true. Googling Grey Reverend shows him to be another Ninja Tune artist, a collaborator with The Cinematic Orchestra, and a guitarist. That makes sense as the centrepiece of Regen is a guitar melody which acts as the frame to hang some emotional strings from. The tune meanders along pleasantly but unremarkably, then drops dead at around 7 minutes. It starts again very different, again re-enforcing the idea that these aren't really single tracks. The guitar is sharper, crisper, in this new tune, it stands more or less alone this time, there are other sounds there but they are distinctly second-fiddle and subservient. It is gentle, a stroll, though there seem to be the odd stray notes here and there that make it less comforting than I feel it should be. I don't dislike this piece at all, but at the same time I find it hard to really like, too.

The final piece, back in the hands of the Cinematic Orchestra, is very much movie-music. You feel like the track title is missing the final n, but the piece reflects nothing of Manhattan to me (though I've only been there the once; what do I know) so I wonder if that is meant to be an association we draw or not. The tune is nice, if not enthralling, but I have to admit I find my attention wandering. This has been a long listen and whilst it has been primarily positive, much of it is not the kind of thing you really get into, you know? The tracks are too long for that, and they are cut adrift a little without the visuals they were meant to accompany. As such I feel a tinge of gladness as the final refrains kick in then die down. There is a time and a place for these tunes, and I don't really feel that that is one after the other like this.

Interlude: Three Craws - James Yorkston

The Three Craws; James Yorkston, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-910449-76-9
Freight Books, Glasgow

Publisher site

An interlude now, as I digress to talk about a book, albeit a book by one of my favourite musicians. Yorkston picks an interesting title for his second book, and first novel, given that he, King Creosote and The Pictish Trail played gigs as a trio under that name.

The reason I am moved to write about the book here is not because I loved it, but because it was so authentically James Yorkston that I feel it merits mention alongside the music that led me to him. Set in his home turf of Fife, specifically the rural locales outside St Andrews, the style is such a good fit for the man it's uncanny.

Having seen the man play live, but also (and importantly) talk both live and on film, I found that it was easy to slip into reading his prose with Yorkston's own voice. This made for an interesting first couple of chapters, before I caught the sway of the protagonists themselves. More remarkable than hearing his voice so clearly in the text was how perfectly his way of delivering dialog in text, through italics, no quotes, no he said, immediately gelled with me. It is generally jarring, at first, when someone breaks standard conventions. "Everyone writes dialogue this way, what the heck is he doing?" Here, though, it worked for me. It fits perfectly with my picture of the author, his softly spoken tones, which lead you on a slow ramble. This is occasionally present in his music - I recall commenting on a conversational style when I sat down with the Cellardyke Recording and Wassailing Society, for instance.

The book itself is darkly comic, in a low-key kind of way. I didn't find myself relating to any of the characters much - a druggy washout, a farm labourer and an arts school graduate form our titular trio. They aren't particularly likable, sensible, or necessarily taking paths that make much sense over the course of the 210 page book. We have the viewpoint of the artist - failed, returning to Fife from London, to see his old friend. He meets the druggy on the coach and so things begin. Without wanting to spoil anything, the book paints a picture of a certain kind of rural life - one I can't speak to the accuracy of, but which is delivered with a low key charm and a wry line or two. It builds slowly, filling in this picture for us, before a twist that is signposted in some ways but a little surprising in others. The climax of the book is odd, tense and more than a little farcical, before leaving us on a very ambiguous ending.

The last two novels I have read have both ended in understated, and in some way unfulfilling ways; the previous one being Noah Hawley's Before the Fall, which I picked up on name recognition from having watched the TV show Fargo. There I felt let down, to the point that a page-turner that kept me up way too late reading turned into a not buying another one by the end. Here I am less harsh on the closing pages... whilst I did feel underwhelmed by the ending on reading it, on reflection it has an ambiguity that is rather appealing. Sometimes we are told too much. Sometimes the mysteries are unwound and the answer is rather dull. Three Craws, at least, leaves you with questions, with things to ponder. More importantly, it leaves you with a sense of place - an authenticity born from local knowledge. That clarity of picture and of voice sustained me through the book - and for that reason I would recommend it to Yorkston fans.

The Church with One Bell - John Martyn

Track list:

1. He's Got All the Whiskey
2. God's Song
3. How Fortunate the Man with None
4. Small Town Talk
5. Excuse Me Mister
6. Strange Fruit
7. The Sky Is Crying
8. Glory Box
9. Feel So Bad
10. Death Don't Have Mercy
11. How Fortunate the Man with None (Original Version)

Running time: 47 minutes
Released: 1998

This album contains one of my favourite cover songs of all time. Martyn's take on Portishead's Glory Box is inspired. I don't have that much of Martyn's back catalog - just this, Solid Air, and his debut, London Conversation. I'm not quite sure why I have such spotty coverage but there we go. Time to see what the rest of this covers album is made of.

I don't actually recgonise any of the songs here besides Glory Box for their titles, or the listing of composers in the track metadata, so it is a bit of a voyage into the unknown in that sense. The opening number is a smoothly grooved track, with Martyn's sometimes gruff voice is applied in a hushed and softened manner. The tune is not revolutionary, the lyrics not great, but the overall vibe is much more positive. Mood is a massive thing in music and where Diagrams managed to butcher the mood on Chromatics with some very bland arrangements, here the tunes maybe simple but they hit the nail on the head, and support the central draw, our star's vocal.

There is a lot to be said for execution; the band here do just that. It could just be that I am in a more positive mood today, though.

Things get a bit weirder on How Fortunate the Man with None (which appears again at the end of the disc; apparently originally a secret track, my copy - digital purchase, I think - has it credited natively). There is a shift to the main structure of the piece, losing the easy, bluesy nature of the first couple in favour of a busier sound. Electronics creeping in to form a rather off-putting loop. I say off-putting because it rather dominates the tune, and frankly its not an interesting hook. There is some decent drumming around it, but Martyn's voice is subsumed into this underwhelming, synthetic sound, killing the majesty some. Thankfully it seems to be a one-track experiment.

Martyn had great resonance, a full sound, magnetic and with a natural depth to it creating a warm sound. His voice sits so well with slow, sparse, bassy tracks. Together this creates a comfort blanket in aural form, wrapping me up and captivating my ears. This is a laid back album for the most part, a late night album in some ways; it's early afternoon now but the sheer cool of the man, his band and their source material succeed in slowing things right down. I probably need more John Martyn records.

Strange Fruit switches things up a little, opening with a sedate piano melody that lasts 80 seconds before the vocal joins in. There is a touch of percussion in there too but this track is sparse. I love the slow tempo, the vocal becoming a drawl on the low notes; it drips atmosphere and reminds me a little of Tom Waits, only more welcoming. Martyn is a better singer, his voice smoother than Waits' I think, though I would be hard pressed to say which I prefer. The slow pace is a feature of a number of tracks here, but its effect is variable. I find it less endearing on The Sky is Crying, for example.

Musically, Glory Box is a faithful cover, upright bass taking on the riff with aplomb, but the real standout is the soulful way Martyn delivers the lyrics. He turns the track - always a downtempo classic - into a blues masterpiece. There is so much character in his low, meandering take - pretty sure he injects some new lines in places - that it really is magnetic. I have always loved the original track; covers are often difficult in that situation, but this one nails the aesthetic of the track so perfectly, whilst migrating it genre-wise. I put it easily alongside Portishead's version as an equal, if not a slight improvement on it.

Feel So Bad gets an injection of life; a livelier riff - and a better use of electronica than we heard earlier - switch up the overall tone, which the tune probably needed not to pale in comparison with what came before. The quicker, louder nature of the song cleanses the palette and so obviously distances itself from Glory Box that it doesn't suffer. It is a palette cleanser, too; the slow, low sound returns after one track away. I think this is album craft, a dying skill in the day of streaming and downloads. Death Don't Have Mercy gets to return to the style used to smash earlier efforts out of the park and still stand up brilliantly because we were pulled out of our soulful reverie for a short time.

Ah, now. The "original version" (metadata tag line, not mine) of How Fortunate the Man with None that I close on... this is much more accessible, more enjoyable than the credited version. This has life, soul and more organic sound. This has a clearer vocal, no dubious electronics and a groovier bass and drums. This is good, good enough for me to ditch track 3 and be happy to lose it. Everything else? Everything else is staying because everything else is pretty darn great.

Chromatics - Diagrams

Track list:

1. Phantom Power   
2. Gentle Morning Song   
3. Desolation   
4. Chromatics   
5. You Can Talk To Me   
6. Shapes   
7. Dirty Broken Bliss   
8. Serpent   
9. The Light And The Noise   
10. Brain   
11. Just A Hair´s Breadth

Running time: 41 minutes
Released: 2015

Diagrams' follow up to Black Light never gelled with me, I think I played it once and didn't go back. It does have a cool name though, and now I get to visit it again.

It opens with space-y sounds that give way quickly to a riffy guitar, and Sam Genders' voice, distant but comforting. The guitar fades into the other sounds a bit, and there is a whistling chorus after the first verse that seems a little... odd. For all that though, it has an easily relatable rhythm and Genders is a genial vocalist. There is something about his tones that pulls you in.  The construction of the piece leaves me a little cold and flat in other ways though. The whistling does not work, and what was a strong riff to begin with dulls fast against the samey backing. I find the word "bland" coming to mind - a sense that carries over into Gentle Morning Song. I feel like the vocal deserves a little more life from the composition.

I am inside on a warm and sunny April day; this is a failure in itself - though I do have a fair few items on my agenda. I have been reading RPG systems, writing cheat sheets ahead of a GMing stint. This effort has left me feeling like anything but going out on the bike, which is really what I ought to be doing right now. Instead I sit here with a mint tea, an arched back and an album that has yet to offer up anything particularly noteworthy (though some distortion effects at the end of the second track half raise my eyebrows).

Desolation offers some hope. There is a touch more purpose in this, some contrasting tones, a nice fuzz to the bass. Genders is again distant, it seems to be a deliberate effect but it works for him. The track gives me the impression that it might be better through headphones - it feels like being constrained inside the sound would set it off. Coming out of my small speaker it's nice, but lacks a certain power. I can see it in there though - which is more than I could say for the first two tracks. Ironically, given its name, the track shines like a beacon in amongst some pretty nondescript offerings. The title track starts interesting but very quickly settles into an unsatisfying pattern that feels unambitious.

I find myself lost for words that aren't written as a track-by-track, using some time to go back and look at what I wrote about Black Light. It's not very illuminating. I describe Sam Genders as genial in a paragraph above - he really is. His tones are musical, his delivery clear, and he handles different rhythms nicely - always pushed back, further away from the listener than the various sounds that swirl around, but do not envelop, his lyrics. Its a shame there isn't a little more here to back him up. There is none of the punchy style that supported songs like Night All Night, which made it the Diagrams tune that jumps into my head when I think of the band.

As I started that sentence the track ticked over to Dirty Broken Bliss, which has a bit more character to it, a nice change of pace and form, a better contrast between the vocal and the backing. Unfortunately it then settles for being a simple repetitive pop song rather than seeking to really use the nice dynamic it establishes as a base for something more, but it is still a significant step up.

I can see exactly why I bounced off this album when I bought it - I note I referred to disappointment with it in the Black Light post. It teases interest but fails to deliver on it. It has strong points, but they are suborned to the weaker parts of it rather than the other way around. It is very flat. Moreover it doesn't really have a style. The only common thread seems to be the distance effect on the vocal; musically it veers between darker, fuzzier bass on the more impactful tracks and light 60s pop-ish sounds on others. The Light and the Noise in particular has a superficiality, a glib twang to it that turns me right off.

A slower number, Brain actually has a bit more character. I am not sure I like it, but it is different and stands out in a way that the majority of the preceding tracks simply failed to do. It opens up and flattens out as it goes, conforming more to the pattern set by the rest, but despite that retains a certain amount of charm, precisely because it did dare to be different up front. That difference returns to close the track out, too - essentially book ending a short track with sounds that actually make you pay attention to it. Alas the final track tries to repeat the "slower is more interesting" feat and ends up being mawkish and trite... the most interesting thing about it being the way it ends rather abruptly. A bold choice, that doesn't quite pay off.

I have to say I am not at all impressed with this offering. I was expecting it to be so-so, given I remembered being disappointed when I bought it, but I would go so far as to say it is actively bad for the most part. Why? Because despite having a really, really solid vocal throughout, it somehow manages to detract from that with bland tunes that deaden its impact. It really couldn't shake that first impression.

And the Rest Will Follow - The Second Hand Marching Band

Track list:

1. Those Words (demo 2012)
2. A dance to half death (original demo)
3. Were you there at St Peter's Square?
4. We walk in the room (original demo 2006)
5. We Will Convince You (original demo)
6. Transformers (B side)
7. Periphery (2011 demo)
8. Fingers Turn Blue (2012)
9. Enter the room with a loud boom (2006)
10. Church Hall (2012)
11. Children's children's children (demo 2012)
12. a+a (2008)
13. Today (2012)
14. I don't know what I need, I don't know what to say
15. Gregory (B side)
16. I went down to see Jane
17. What do you love for?
18. Only in tears/wrench of my hand
19. A hurricane, a thunderstorm (original demo)
20. Bottle of Anger (demo 2013)
21. Doorframe (B side)
22. Half Lies Through Half Teeth (demo)
23. Grit and Determination (first demo)
24. Little bit (demo)
25. Love is a fragile thing (2008 demo)

Running time: 90 minutes
Released: 2015

This was an impulse purchase... part of an entire discography. The Second Hand Marching Band made that easy by facilitating a pay what you want type deal over on Bandcamp - one cheaper than purchasing just the most recent album alone. I paid more because I have loved some of their free stuff in the past, grabbing it after I saw them live at Big Tent. This looks to run the gamut of their material, I suspect it will be rough, raw, but interesting.

The Second Hand Marching Band are a massive ensemble, playing folksy but modern tracks. The demo of Those Words downplays the size of the group. A simple brass tune and a softly sung lyric. It's a relaxed start to the collection, before we are pitched into the song that made me fall in love with the group. A Dance to Half Death is... really hard to describe. Big brassy riff, charming little chimes and guitar structure, broken voice delivering heartfelt lines. Its a a real oddball, but a real gem. In places the sounds don't quite come together right, but the earnestness of the performance outside of that allows easy forgiveness.

With it appearing as the second of 25 tracks here though I wonder if the peak is too soon into the mammoth 90 minute overall run time. It is Easter Monday; 4th day of the weekend. I should be feeling relaxed by now but I am not. Tiredness is still the dominant tide in my makeup, and I have plans later. This is my morning sorted.

From the rich deep tapestry of one track, we go to a largely solo, unaccompanied song. It has a charm to it but I am glad it runs short of 2 minutes. The transitions between pieces are sharp - they use their run time - and we are into a piece that reminds me of Amiina. There is a soft welcoming comfort in the structure and I find myself not really listening but rather sinking into the sounds and enjoying the overall ambience more than the specific sounds. Looking down the track list it is very likely I have most of these tracks on other albums picked up in the same bulk deal, over and above those that I had as freebies previously. I find that I am rather happy about this. Whilst part of the idea of this project was to trim down and shape up my library, the idea that I might actually promote some of the more obscure stuff is a positive in my mind.

I'm just saying, but this sort of sound is not what I would expect from a tune called Transformers. All lonely guitar work and soft voices. One of the reasons I fall for tracks and groups like this is that I rather value the less than perfect singing voice. There is an audible fragility in our lead vocalist, a flaw that really injects humanity into the pieces, present but not distracting from the main thrust. It is one of the things that really drew me to King Creosote originally, and he became a firm favourite. Flaws open us up, make us easier to relate to.

It amuses me to see "demo" against so many of these tracks. I am not sure the significance of it given the self-supported nature of the group - who are they demoing to? My ears (and likely my speakers) are not sufficiently good to pick up on significant differences in recording quality in those tunes I recognise. I find myself distracted; I have a silent TV on with the snooker - I don't quite know why but I think the idea of having something to pull my eye from these words every now and again was a good idea given the length of this disc; silent TVs can be mesmeric though, even when as dull as two baldies playing snooker (seriously, it's like there are three cue balls).

Church Hall has a more polished sound to it, in just about every way - including the singer's voice... until I typed that at least. I find myself really liking this piece. But I also suspect despite being a digital purchase from the band via Bandcamp this song may be mis-tagged. The lyrics constantly mention "fingers turned blue" which was two tracks back... hmm. Oh well, who cares. There's an insouciance, of all things, about some of these tracks in the middle of the run. It's quite uplifting.

I spent yesterday world-building, taking the product of my first game of Microscope and adding some detail to flesh out a setting for an RPG campaign. I should rather have been reading systems, as that is the part that is at question, but still. I am reminded how when roleplaying I often find more interest in the setup of a new game than the game itself once it gets going. With this project it is often the opposite - I find reasons not to do listens, not to sit down for that long to listen to this thing which I am not sure I will enjoy, but often when I get down to it I find enjoyment I wasn't expecting. The track that is just ending had a really aggressively struck acoustic riff; I loved it to start with, but 5 minutes later it was more of a yoke.

The track with the longest title on the album is a short one, the title "I don't know what I need, I don't know what to say" repeated in duet as structure for a little song over the top of it. It's quite amazingly good. The two lines don't compete at all, and the Scottish twang of the main singer is a real treat. There's a lovely gentle lilt to it, the breathy male/female duet on the structural title carrying a rhythm that you would never normally apply to it. I really like the track. High point 3, I think. The tracks are ticking over and time is ticking on; this hour and a half is not a chore at all.

In a different context the rawness of these tracks might be a detriment, but there is such a quiet, understated charm to the songs that immediately begs forgiveness of their weaknesses. There is no pretense here, just openness. Proper music, done for the love of it - sharing that love with those who would have it. Tone is important, here the tone is casual, warm, inclusive and laid back, even when the songs aren't so much. I suppose that is one of the things about being a 17-piece (or similar) - so many people need to buy in, even if the vision - and indeed the majority of the tune - is coming from a few.

Occasionally the songs strain our singer's voice more than is seemly. I like the hints of fragility when he holds it without quite breaking, but when it pushes that fraction further it is less appealing. Thankfully in the cases that has happened, the simple and welcoming acoustic forms of the track have provided a safety blanket. There hasn't been anything that wasn't a net pleasant experience, even when individual elements have fallen down.

I have reached track 18; there is still a whole album to go in length terms. This track has a punchy tempo, a true ensemble feel to it. In some ways it is a very weak track - the vocal is poor, distant and unengaging compared to other songs, but the energy from the band sustains it, the rhythm providing a foundation for them to elevate the vocal from downer to mere drawback.

The demo of A Hurricane, A Thunderstorm sounds very different to my memory of the final track - much more subdued. The aural picture I had in my head for this one had some bombast around the chorus, here it is a muted appeal. I suspect it is more likely the case that my memory is confusing the track with something else. The appeal here though is the roll, the pattern in the verse, the brass section providing a repeating pattern, a sway that invites you in until you are bobbing like a boat in winds much lighter than the titular storm. I would be lying if I said that every moment of this album was genius, but I don't think everything needs to be genius to be genuinely worthwhile. Genuine is a good descriptor, actually. I am not convinced that I would ever sit down to really listen to this again, but, as with compatriots Eagleowl, I find a nice easy connection to the tunes of The Second Hand Marching Band which makes them a comfort. With Eagleowl, I think the music is a little bit more special, but the same principle applies.

I think I have run out of thoughts, of words, a bit before the end. When I saw the length of this album I thought it would be tough to fit it in, it took conscious prioritisation to get to it this morning. I am really glad I did. There is an authenticity and a charm to this collection of tracks that is really uplifting. A good morning.

Christmas Giveaway 2014 - The Phoenix Foundation & Holly Beals

Track list:

1. God Rest Ye Merry Men

Running time: 3 minutes
Released: 2014

OK, so this is probably not an accurate title, but it is the one I have down as a wrapper for a single track, a festive freebie from the Kiwis.

A simple basic rhythm, and then a hushed vocal comes in and confirms it is classic carol God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen slightly re-titled.

Frankly at this point there is already no more worth saying. Their take is characteristic of the band, but even The Phoenix Foundation cannot inspire me to be interested in Christmas music, so I have no inclination to listen to this again despite the insidious way the rhythm worms its way into my brain and the interesting use of instrumentation in the bridge.