7 Dec 2016
Reviewed by Grey Malkin (The Hare & The Moon)
Look To The North, a long distance collaboration between Ireland's David Colohan (United Bible Studies, Raising Holy Sparks and Agitated Radio Pilot) and America's Zachery Corsa (Lost Trail), have previously impressed with their debut '5000 Blackbirds Fall Out Of The Sky', a beautifully detailed slice of psych folk ambiance. It is a significant degree of expectation then that greets 'You're A Séance Old North', which is repaid handsomely and repeatedly throughout what is a unique and truly special recording. This is an album that lives in the hinterland, the twilit liminal space between seasons and seems purpose made for the chill autumn sunsets and approaching winter darkness.
Essentially an album of two instrumental extended pieces, albeit with many subtle changes and junctures ebbing and flowing throughout, this is a deeply immersive album in which the listener can crawl into and inhabit for the space of its duration. And you will want to do so time and again; the opening track, the excellently titled 'Where You Vanished Off The Edges Of A Cul-de-sac, Like Falling Off A Map' feels like entering a hazy, blurred and slightly off kilter dream or memory. Choral drones drift and retreat amongst bird and cricket song, but this is no gentle or new age ambience, instead there is a pleasingly unsettling ‘Twin Peaks’ air to this landscape. Colohan's autoharp picks out a fragile, ghostlike melody as the drones recede into the sound of radio static and muffled, long forgotten voices from the past. Corsa’s piano then haunts the emptiness that remains until an angelic mellotron choir descends; this is a haunted house of an album, a subconscious filled with the sounds, tears and hopes of yesteryear, both sepia tinted and dust covered. Electronic pulses conjure a solar, electric wind upon which a solitary harmonium wheezes and weeps, a chance meeting of several possible timelines at once. Washes of old radio chatter and utterly lovely chiming drones and peals roll in like waves, not unlike a heavily slowed down Cocteau Twins, the music's quiet power utterly beguiling and bewitching.
An elderly man's voice enters and reflects biblically on the fate of the world before the second piece 'Harriet Was Here, Less So Now' begins with a whirring, looping vocal sample to be joined by piano, guitar and a growing torrent of static and feedback. Where the opening track was spacious and sacred, its sister piece is disturbed and storm wracked. All storms must break however and this soon quietens into delicately picked autoharp and further sampled religious dialogue which adds an unnerving post apocalyptic tinge. Wind and rainfall rise to the foreground, the sound of the woods and the creatures within reverberating, merging with spectral conversations and melodies that seem plucked from beyond the veil, as if the curtain between the worlds is thinner here, where this album inhabits. Footsteps on leaves are closely followed by an unearthly breathing, of something not human until the welcome static returns and the autoharp notes cascade like tears over disembodied recollections from voices from the distant past. Again, eerie and unnerving sounds weave through the woodlands, a wraithlike choir not far behind as dark, impenetrable waves of guitar and echoed howls grow to obscure all else. A lone voice emerges through the shortwave crackle to exclaim 'It's still here' and the transmission suddenly ends. Both unnerving and curiously beautiful this is an album that is also an immersive experience; the silence after it has finished feels loud and tangible, as if emerging from a hypnogogic or a wakened dream.
Both Colohan and Corsa are experienced and renowned composers and this album is rich with nuance, detail and gentle, emotive resonance. For those who admire the work of Richard Skelton, Richard Moult and Michael Begg's Human Greed, this is an essential acquisition. Special mention must go the exquisite packaging from AOsmosis Records; a limited edition stitched 16 page booklet replete with transparent and paper prints along with the accompanying poetry of Zach Corsa. Handmade and a genuine thing of beauty, Aosmosis have done themselves proud and a serious enquiry into their other releases is recommended.
Available now as a download or limited CD.
29 Nov 2016
Reviewed by Shaun C. Rogan
Winter is drawing ever closer up here in the northern hemisphere and, as I take in the last of the late autumn light and stare blankly out of my north London window, I am being gently drawn into a brave old/new world by the never less than great Clay Pipe Records. This latest release is a singular piece of work, as the deeply beguiling music and accompanying striking art work is the creative outpouring of label supremo and polymath, Frances Castle, operating once more under the moniker of The Hardy Tree.
The beautiful floating soundscapes/sonic friezes found here are dreamily delivered in gently flickering, devotional vignettes that envelop and involve the listener with a warmth of spirit rarely found in such keenly conceptualised work. Every note is drawn out to maximise its lingering pictorial impact as time is stretched and manipulated with sound. As a whole work, "Through Passages Of Time" creates a blurring almost disorientating intimacy that is almost impossible to disengage from. Even if you wanted to.
The opening and instructively titled "Looking Down on London" sets the tone with its simple, almost musical box like structures, creating a lovely minor-key ballad with very effective use of vibes and mellotron. "The Peerless Pool" lopes ever so gently along with vintage synth washes and a mood that wouldn't be out of place on the best of the Ghost Box catalogue. "St John Horsleydown" and "Newport Market" echo with ghostly voices, underpinned once more by the most delicate of musical figures whilst "Baltic Wharf" groans with the sound of straining timbers in the tidal Thames before settling into the stateliest shanty I think I have ever heard. The latter benefits hugely from some lovely mournful viola playing by Left Outsides crew member and Plinth collaborator, Alison Cotton. 'Sluice House Tavern' is a lovely sonic tapestry; a beam of autumnal afternoon light through a lead-glass window, generating a hugely resplendent ambience for the listener. 'Near Windmill Bridge' is all analogue synth twists and gently soaring keys with a whispering drum machine in the background. "Cut Throat Lane" brings matters to a soul soothing end, a series of spirit voices ascending ever skyward on an endless journey back into the afterlife and on to who knows where.
On an instant level, "Through Passages Of Time" works as a highly accomplished musical travelogue, using a historical overview of a London lost to the diggers and the tower cranes as its guiding star and central concept. However, the longer you let these meditations seep into your being and colour your minds eye, the more you realise that what you are experiencing has far more depth and complexity. This record is more like a carefully constructed requiem for London featuring a series of spectral lullabies. The recurring musical devices and themes that link these pieces to create a whole environment for the listener to inhabit and explore draw strong comparison to those collected in any church hymn book. This is all no doubt deliberate as the real 'Hardy Tree', from which the project takes its name, has a strong ecclesiastical linkage that I will leave to those sufficiently intrigued to enlighten themselves with. The sense that every note on this record has weight and has been received from another dimension by its creator is all pervading. In these grooves The Hardy Tree, acting as curator or medium, is telling you something vital about your past lives in the hope that your present one will become enriched, kinder and more connected as a result. And if that sounds profound and heavy its because it is.
"Through Passages of Time" belongs to another (green) world and congratulations should go to Frances Castle for divining this wonderfully touching collection and successfully capturing it on tape. It's musical psycho-geography par excellence and probably the most human record you will hear all year. Get it while you can as, like much of the city it commemorates, I am sure it will be gone before you know it.
Available on limited vinyl from the label direct or a number of small but perfectly formed independent retailers.
21 Nov 2016
Reviewed by Nathan Ford
Atomhenge continue their vanilla issue Hawkwind box set campaign and while this latest edition doesn't quite meet the consistent highs of the previous "Charisma Years", it still contains more than its fair share of riches.
Bypassing the band's brief dalliance with Bronze Records (the excellent studio album"Levitation" and the middling "Live '79") the RCA Active years collects three studio albums released within a whirlwind twelve month period.
First up is "Sonic Attack" which sees the band embracing the popular NWOBHM sound of the time. Most commentators seem to focus solely on this, ignoring the emerging emphasis on synthesisers and sequencers which would have such an impact on the two albums which followed - a pity as this creates an impression of a much more one-dimensional album than this actually is. Huw Lloyd Langston's fiery guitar leads fit perfectly in this context and clunky drumming aside (Ginger Baker's shoes are pretty hard to fill) the NWOBHM tracks here are pretty good, if not particularly memorable (although "Angels of Death" became a live favourite). Much more interesting are the tracks where Dave Brock and Harvey Bainbridge's synth tendencies began to take hold, with "Virgin of the World" being particularly effective and evocative.
"Church of Hawkwind" followed in quick succession. Beginning life as a solo Dave Brock synth project, other Hawkwind members were eventually roped in to contribute on what has become one of the band's most misunderstood and underappreciated albums. The album's original release came as a shock to fans willing to embrace the heavier approach of "Sonic Attack", while subsequent CD issues have muddied the waters by messing with the track sequencing and peppering unrelated bonus tracks seemingly at random throughout the album's original sequence.
Restored to its original running order and freed of bonus tracks, it proves to be a singular pleasure, albeit one that will take a bit of adjusting to for some fans. It works particularly well as an uninterrupted suite and while it may be a little less immediate than most Hawkwind albums, I'd argue that it's one of the band's most cohesive - certainly during the eighties.
Synth driven soundscapes make up a lot of the album's running time, but repeated plays reveal these to be full of imaginative melodic and rhythmic twists. And as for 'real' songs, why "Nuclear Drive" isn't rated among the band's best is totally beyond me.
"Choose Your Masques" completes this triptych and it's easy to see why it's considered the best of the three. Retaining the heavy synth emphasis of "Church of Hawkwind", "Masques" is a more song orientated affair with more vocals and more guitars making it much more palatable to long term fans. An unnecessary reworking of "Silver Machine" suggests a lack of confidence from Brock and co. but they really needn't have worried, this is one of their most consistent sets. "Arrival in Utopia" should have been a single, while "Void City" is an endearingly quirky vocoder driven ditty that sounds improbably like Brock channelling "McCartney II".
The balance between driving space-rockers and airy synthscapes is perfect here, making this the best studio representation of the band during this era.
Lovely sounding masters here from Atomhenge in a lovely, simple clamshell box. And while you're at it, pick up "Coded Languages", recorded on the "Choose Your Masques" tour and featuring a returning Nik Turner, it's every bit the equal of what you'll find here and ably demonstrates just how quickly these songs evolved in a live context.
The RCA Active Years 1981-1982 is available here (UK/EU) or here (US).
11 Nov 2016
Reviewed by Shaun C. Rogan
Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the woods, Wolf People have returned from Valhalla having sailed across the Black Fjord aboard the Hesperus, to reclaim their crown as the UK's premier acid folk rock band with their third long player proper, 'Ruins'. Which more than justifies this massive reputation - this is a heavy record in all possible ways. They look the same on the surface but these are changed men. The Wolf People have the thousand yard stare and are seeing beyond. Three years they have been away, three long years...then play on.
Opener 'Ninth Night' appears in a blur of over-amped vocals, whistling theremin, relentless drumming tattoos and a general mood of dread mixed with a relish/mania that only comes with preparing for battle. "Rhine Sagas" has that 1969/1970 High Tide type vibe completely nailed. Imagine 'Elemental Child' by Marc Bolan doused in petrol and set ablaze at midnight to the cries of a million harpies - all powered by a bulldozing bass and drums assault topped by some feral, snarling guitars. Welcome back.
Then, unbelievably, the ante is upped further and things get truly fucking terrifying with 'Night Witch'. This reveals Wolf People's greensleeves to be caked in other's blood and bone, their hands dirty, their eyes ablaze, an apparition in sound with a rocketing guitar solo scooping you up high into the black clouds that stretch out forever - a firestorm of feedback, reverb and dissonance. Take a bow Joe Hollick, you have just razed half of North London to the ground from my stereo.
"Kingfisher" provides a balm of sorts - its delicately twisting and recurring guitar tag-line and warm harmonised vocals replete with spectral flute (a la Mighty Baby) before breaking down and re-emerging on the wings of some hugely tasteful and beautifully chiming dual guitar riffage. It's magical motifs will reappear in brief intervals twice more during the record. It's a great idea and means that you are reminded of its insistence long after listening. Gorgeous.
But, as with everything on this record, you feel some kind of significant reckoning is never far away. The songs collected here feel like they have been wrenched from deep within their creators and are manifest almost against their will. The record's troubled birth documented by bad omens leads you to imagine that 'Ruins' has been some extreme form of therapy for those involved. It has a terrible beauty sitting within its heart of darkness and even at its lightest moments, Wolf People are the unhappiest men at the carnival. This of course, given their mastery of the art, makes for an absolutely riveting listening experience that draws you further in every time you listen. Onward.
"Thistles" is a personal favourite with a fuzzier than fuzzed guitar opening giving way to some beautifully weightless vocals that seem to float and flutter on the periphery of your vision whilst guitars once more swoop and dive counterpointed by a lovelier than lovely string driven figure before dissipating into clouds of feedback. God I love this tune. Pete Townshend would love this tune too. Can I play it again, right now?
"Crumbling Dais" attempts to catch you off balance by coming on like 'Graveyard' by early 1970s no hit folk wonders Forest before slipping the clutch and unfurling its standard in the breeze as a doomy rocker with all the right moves. Cool. A swift 'Jug of Love' type interpretation of the main 'Kingfisher' theme hoves into view momentarily before drifting back along the shore making way for the crunchy, funky rhythms of 'Not Me Sir'. Here again, the sense of shock and dread is prominent and a sense of urgency to get the message through at whatever cost from this field in England is strong as chambered guitar lines flicker like camp fires and Jack Sharps beautifully phrased vocals pull me, dazed and confused, towards the burning heat before the lights go out and I am pitched into blackness.
"Belong" smashes me awake again with its awesome take on the Pretty Things 'SF Sorrow' squeezed into 3 minutes and 49 seconds. To belong to something more indeed. What an abso-fucking-lutely bang on tune. And despite my references to the work of revered luminaries such as High Tide and the ever lurking Mighty Baby, perhaps the overall theme of "Ruins" - its dystopia, its dread, and its not too obscured references to war and its consequences line it up conceptually with the Pretties masterpiece in many ways. That's not to try and hang it from the pole with unreasonable expectation at all as 'Sorrow' is quite rightly considered a huge triumph of the first psychedelic age BUT this is a great record too. And I am going to say its probably the best record I have heard released by any British band this year. And frankly, I needed a new Wolf People record to come out, I needed the splendour of 'Salts Mill' with its beautifully woven tapestry of guitar and reeds to retain my faith in UK acid-rock-folk-prog's ability to make sounds like no other. Thank Christ (for the bomb) they turned up just in time to pull Excalibur from the rock and catch the lightning with it.
The parting 'Glass' is suitably cryptic and glowing, Wolf People take their leave before we have the chance to ask any further questions - leaving us to ponder these ruins we live amongst and decide how best to make a brave new world for now and forever.
So there you have it, the third full instalment of the Wolf People saga. They remain thirsty, they continue to see further than mere mortals and they arrive with the message just when you need them to. We salute them and wish them Godspeed for without their visitations this sceptre isle would be a more barren and unforgiving place. An essential release and a must for the 2016 'best of' shortlist.
Post script: As I complete this review (9th November 2016), I get word that Martin Stone, the immensely talented guitar player from amongst others The Action and Mighty Baby has passed on aged just 69. This gives 'Ruins' a further added poignancy to me as Martin's work has clearly helped scope out some of the vision of Wolf People. This review is very humbly dedicated to his memory.
Ruins is available on CD, Vinyl and digital formats here (UK/EU) or here (US).
10 Nov 2016
Reviewed by Grey Malkin (The Hare & The Moon)
Timothy Renner’s legendary forest dwellers Stone Breath return equipped with both finesse and quiet power for ‘Cryptids’, an album which features a dozen songs concerning the band’s local Pennsylvanian folklore, cryptid creatures, ghosts and legends. This subject matter reveals itself to be ideal for a band that was one of the earliest instigators of what can now be described as the current ‘wyrd’ wave of psych folk, the glimpsed sasquatches, lycanthropes and mysterious bipeds from the woodland mythology find a suitable home amongst Renner’s spectral acoustic and banjo led laments. Aided by AE Hoskins on various instrumentation, Rod Goelz on bass and mandolin, Martyn Bates (of Eyeless In Gaza) on guest vocals and an appearance by long-time collaborator Prydwyn (of Green Crown), ‘Cryptids’ stands as both one of Stone Breath’s most accessible and most deeply chilling albums.
The album begins with the sound of footsteps crunching through piles of dead leaves before Renner’s familiar banjo enters for 'In the Red Witch House', a chilling tale of a lycanthropic child whose condition was said to have been caused by a coven of local witches. Indeed, the album pursues a musical telling of local tales and legends throughout, expertly put to song by Stone Breath's mossy and spectral, rural folk. This is followed by 'The Hidebehind' which adds recorder, xylophone and subtle percussion to a slow paced but stealthy sliver of acid folk. 'Trotterhead's descending mandolin melody and relentless, steady stalking pace generates an air of true menace and eeriness, conjuring a sense of being followed and discreetly watched by eyes that are not altogether human. Stone Breath are masters of their craft but here they seem even more focused and honed, there is an intensity in the brooding, malevolence that they bring to play in the telling of these folk beliefs. The English ballad 'Long Lankin' (previously and perhaps most famously heard interpreted by Steeleye Span) is given an unsettling undercurrent of droning organ as Renner's voice recounts one of the bloodiest and most supernatural of all the Child Ballads. These ballads travelled across the Atlantic as the Scots, Irish and English emigrated to the New World and many such songs and texts can be found as American variations of the originals, 'The Rolling Of The Stones' being a prime example. 'Long Lankin' fits perfectly in this collection of otherworldly, sad or predatory creatures and Stone Breath make this bogeyman tale their own.
'I Know His Name' is equally as disquieting, mandolin and drums calling time as a tale of an inhuman walker in the woods is recounted by Renner's deep baritone vocals, whilst 'The Singing Corpse' is a more reflective, melancholy piece which tells of a grave bound corpse which is said to be sighted singing hymns in an angelic, choral voice. Here the vocal duties are taken by Eyeless in Gaza's Martyn Bates who provides a heartfelt and genuinely beautiful coda to the song. 'Sticks' is classic Stone Breath, Renner's rhythmic banjo providing the structure for his intonations, as if uttering a chant to hell itself. Had The Incredible String Band been formed across the ocean in the dark, thick woods of New England rather than these shores this may well be what they would have sounded like. 'Far Away the Morning' is a mournful but gorgeous ballad whilst 'The Missing' is a skeletal folk ghost story that stays in the listener’s psyche long after the song has ended; it haunts you. The album closes musically with the majestic 'Apples for the Albawitch’, which tells of flute playing creatures who would lure unwary travellers away with their song, never to be seen again. One can imagine the hypnotic and bewitching appeal of Stone Breath doing exactly the same, taking spellbound listeners deep into the copse, never to return. There then follows several genuine recorded transmissions of locals recounting sightings in the woods of various terrifying and unexplained creatures, including police control room recordings. They are incredibly spine chilling and provide a hugely effective ending to what is surely a contender for the album of the year.
‘Cryptids’ is an album which stays with you long after the music has finished. Both the songs and the frightened voices from the vintage recordings haunt the hours that follow immersing yourself with this release and this is how it should be; this album is a forest filled with ghosts and creatures and is utterly entrancing. Leave the path, stray into the trees, feel the cold of the Stone Breath upon your neck.
Available now as a download and CD from the ever splendid Dark Holler Arts (Renner’s own label), the album comes replete with stunning artwork by Timothy. Do also check out the excellent accompanying book of Pennsylvanian folklore by the singer, ‘Beyond the Seventh Gate’ which can be found at the same sources.
6 Nov 2016
Reviewed by Nathan Ford
With a frontman distantly related to the Who's Roger Daltrey and management from future gazillionaires Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber, the Tales of Justine is one of those bands that it's very easy to assume have a more interesting backstory than output.
Enter "Petals from a Sunflower", the first ever CD collection of their complete recorded works (an earlier vinyl-only collection on Tenth Planet included around two thirds of the content of this collection) which aims to dispel this illusion.
Signed by Rice (then an A&R man for EMI) and Lloyd-Webber in 1967 based primarily on the potential star quality of 15 year old singer / guitarist / songwriter David Daltrey, Tales of Justine's future looked bright. Rice's influence allowed access to the bright halls of Abbey Road studios, holy ground for a young singer enthralled by the sounds of the Syd Barrett led Pink Floyd.
An initial batch of politely freaky psych-pop demos recorded at Abbey Road (all included here) impressed the label big wigs enough to secure a single release, the Lloyd-Webber arranged "Albert" / "Monday Morning". Unfortunately the a-side was one of Daltrey's weaker numbers, and despite a number of favourable reviews, the single sank without a trace. Daltrey himself was reluctant to issue "Albert" as the a-side, and Rice is now of the opinion that had the single been flipped, things could have been very different for the band. "Monday Morning" certainly would have made a great single, with its anthemic chorus and psychedelic guitar / keyboard duel promising much. It's been widely comped since.
That wasn't the end for Tales of Justine (who had by now dropped the definitive article from their name) though. There was plenty more to come and their best work was still ahead of them. "Sitting on a Blunstone" is perhaps their masterwork, a mystical raga recorded on a two track in a tiny publishing studio as a publishing demo. The fact that Rice and Lloyd-Webber never saw fit to give it the proper Abbey Road treatment shows just how little they understood of Daltrey's vision, but their influence wasn't wholly negative.
Lloyd-Webber had spent some time observing the sessions for Mark Wirtz's "Teenage Opera" and when it came time again for Tales of Justine to enter Abbey Road, everything but the kitchen sink was utilised. The results were uniformly impressive, from the moody "Pathway" to the jaunty "Jupiter" to the absolutely glorious " Morpheus", which captures, and improves upon the orchestrated pop psych vibe of Aphrodite's Child's "Rain & Tears" absolutely perfectly.
EMI showed no interest in releasing it though, and Rice and Lloyd-Webber were more interested in their own "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat" (which Daltrey had a starring role in).
Several Daltrey solo sessions followed, the results of which are also here, but psychedelia was passing out of favour and management's attempts to reinvent Daltrey in a Scott Walker meets Lulu vein continued to leave the label unimpressed.
Aside from a few live dates, that spelled the end of Tales of Justine. Daltrey was eventually released from EMI's clutches, joining the band Carillion, who would eventually morph (without Daltrey) into the rather excellent wannabe Byrds band Starry Eyed and Laughing.
Everything that Tales of Justine recorded is here, and it sounds exactly like what it is:a promising young band being poked and prodded in directions that they're not necessarily comfortable with, but generally transcending the situation they found themselves in to deliver material that deserved more recognition. There are a handful of unknown classics here that are absolutely essential for UK psych aficionados, although the band's fluffier leanings make this more one for lovers of pop-psych than psych-pop.
Available here (UK/EU) or here (US).
1 Nov 2016
Reviewed By Todd Leiter-Weintraub (Hop On Pop)
When Ultimate Painting released last year’s "Green Lanes" it grabbed me on first listen. Their sunny pop, to me, felt like Chicago in the 1990s, the time and place where I came of age. So yeah, it evoked some nostalgia and that was certainly part of the appeal. But nostalgia only goes so far; ultimately, it's the songs that have to hold up. And they do.
Their follow-up, the appropriately titled "Dusk", is not nearly so sunshiny. If "Green Lanes" sounds like the summer days that I spent record shopping and eating at greasy spoon restaurants, "Dusk" is the nightime. It’s the hushed, peaceful drive home from the clubs, winding through urban neighborhoods. Listening to music with the windows rolled open on a crisp summer evening.
The album opens with the shimmering guitars and thin drum sound of “Bills” which sets the stage with its driving rhythm that is reminiscent of Stereolab. However, in lieu of chugging guitars, gentle guitar arpeggios skitter over the top of it all, with half-mumbled vocals on top of that. “Song For Brian Jones” follows with the same lazy, summertime cadence; but some additional percussion loosens up the groove just a little bit.
The album carries on with “Lead the Way.” It’s a somber march that pushes forward with the same sort of chiming guitars, and a single droning synth note that hovers in the background that both lulls and disquiets. “Monday Morning, Somewhere Central” uses little bits of electric piano to add some interesting, subtle counterpoint to the electric guitar. Some nice vocal harmonies strengthen the song’s hook to make this a song that could have been a college radio staple around 1996 or so.
On "Dusk", Ultimate Painting sets a mood and maintains it; it’s evocative as hell. The album casts a spell starting with the very first note, and simply won’t let you go until it’s run its course. It’s one of those records where, each time I drop the needle, I don’t want to pick it up, or even get up out of my chair until the whole thing has faded into the darkness, leaving only its beautiful ghost behind.
It’s another very highly recommended release from the Trouble In Mind label.
Available on CD and vinyl here (UK/EU) and here (US).
Streaming and downloads here:
28 Oct 2016
|Artwork: Stephen Grasso|
It's not every day that I get contacted by a favourite new band to tell them me they've just covered one of my favourite songs and that they'd like us to premiere it here.
Fortunately today is not just any day, so we're thrilled to bring you the premiere of Lake Ruth's version of the immortal "Tam Lin" (which you can stream below). Lake Ruth, you'll remember, blew me away with this - their debut album, baroque space-pop of the highest order.
Lake Ruth's Allison and Hewson pick up the story for us:
"But tonight is Halloween, and the Faerie Folk ride, Those that would their true love win, at Mile's Cross they must hide".
For a song that dates back to 1549, or even earlier, Tam Lin is a surprisingly modern fairytale which subverts the traditional 'damsel in distress' narrative in favor of a formidable heroine, who by innate strength, witchcraft, or both, defeats an equally powerful female rival: The Faerie Queen.
The story is set in the forest of Carterhaugh, near Selkirk in the Scottish Borders. Walking through the woods, young Janet, wearing her magical green garter, encounters the knight Tam Lin, who forbids her to pass through his territory. Janet picks a rare double-headed rose, and replies that she will go where she pleases. Her courage seems to make a good impression on Tam Lin, and they become lovers.
When Janet returns home some time later, her father notices that she is showing the signs of pregnancy, gently suggesting in a 'meek and mild' tone that they marry her off before things become too obvious. Yet Janet refuses to forsake Tam Lin. When she returns to Carterhaugh, he informs her that he is a prisoner of The Faerie Queen. He fears that the Queen plans to hand him over to the Devil on Halloween night as her 'tithe to hell', which she must pay every seven years.
To free Tam Lin, Janet has to conceal herself at the crossroads at midnight, pull him down from his horse as the Faerie Court rides by, then hold and hide him from sight as he is transformed from a series of fearsome animals back into a human. This she successfully does, much to the anger of The Faerie Queen, who accepts defeat but muses that she would have turned Tam Lin into a tree, had she known what he was up to.
Our rendition of Tam Lin is an homage to Fairport Convention's excellent version on the 'Liege and Lief' album. In the course of acquiring the streaming license, we learned that their adaptation was arranged by the late, virtuoso fiddle player Dave Swarbrick, who sadly passed away back in June of this year. We decided, in the spirit of the song's heroine, to throw caution to the wind, and put out a song with umpteen verses, abundant guitar solos, and occasional mixed time signatures. This Halloween, we invite you to listen to the fruits of this perilous endeavor!
Reviewed by Shaun C. Rogan
The Tyde returns after a ten year hiatus!
Ahhhh, that cool Sierra Nevada breeze at dusk after a long day baking in the sun is exactly where I am presently residing psychically thanks to this splendid reminder of the song writing chops of Darren Rademaker (also of Beachwood Sparks). I got my bottle of Anchor Steam, a Marlboro Light in my hand and Zuma Beach is just on the horizon, waves gently shimmering in the early evening surf. I am in a reverie created by a songsmith at the top of his game.
Opener "Nice To Know You" kicks things off in splendour. Its a bright, driving opener with Rademakers vocals reminding me of a countrified less uptight Tom Verlaine (not a bad thing at all in this persons view) motoring on a sweet riff that breaks down half way through into a nice half speed outro that just satisfies real well. "Ode To Islands" ups the ante considerably with a sweeter than sweet chiming guitar that shimmers and modulates all over the 'so in love' celebratory refrains from our main man, though you can't be sure if the celebration is of what is or what should never be. You cannot fail but to love this kind of approach to song writing, its impossible cos it rules. "The Rights" is a beautiful trawl up Highway 5 with a few roadhouse pit stops, its sophisticated and gently circular riffing and rhinestoned guitar stabs taking the listener off into the blue on its extended coda. It features the best guitar solo on the record (of which there are quite a few). Can someone get me a Marguerita now and give me a quarter for the phone?
"The Curse in Reverse" features some very tasteful guitar work (and vocals) from limey guitar slinger par excellence Bernard Butler - his distinct, Neil Young flavoured modulated and wailing runs adding a further dash of colour and verve to what is a regretful and cautionary tale of miscommunication and dysfunction. It's probably the darkest point on a record where melancholy is never far from home but generally is worn with a measure of understanding and good humour that comes with the realisation that we are all only here a short while so its probably best to enjoy the experience even when the cards don't fall your way.
"Rainbow Boogie" is a bittersweet romp through open fields of country fried riffage underpinned by suitably galloping and teetering drums propelling matters along very nicely indeed. This is thinking drinking music and provides a great fun-filled taxi ride to our next reflective moment provided by the truly gorgeous "Situations", which I think is the most confessional moment on the record. It's one of those great songs that manages to be both torch song and valedictory farewell to a special someone. It is also possibly the sweetest song to ever repeatedly feature the word 'motherfucker' in the history of recorded music. Believe. It shimmers and shines in a reflective pool of melancholy that is just irresistable. If 'Darren 4' reaches its, surely intended, perfect state of grace it is during this wonderful song. You involuntarily exhale deeply at its conclusion even after listening to it a dozen times or more (I lost count).
Matters are brought to suitably longing and only partially resolved close by the "It's Not Gossip If Its True". We are truly in cosmic country territory at this point, all swooping pedal steel replete with sumptuously spectral backing vocals and I am left desperately looking for a scotch and soda to accompany me on a return trip as I immediately want to play this record again and luxuriate in its beautifully executed and deeply soulful cosmic Americana.
So there you have it, The Tyde made you wait a decade but it was worth it. Get high with them and remember that in their company, even if you cant always get what you want, your glass is always half full not half empty....
Available here (UK/EU) or here (US).
23 Oct 2016
Reviewed by Grey Malkin (The Hare & The Moon)
Rusalnaia combines the significant talents of both Sharron Kraus (who has already had a prolific run of essential albums in the last year with the gorgeous 'Friends And Enemies; Lovers And Strangers', its sister album 'Hen Llan Recordings’ and most recently the poetry/music of 'If You Put Out Your Hand') and Ex Reverie's Gillian Chadwick (if you haven't encountered 2008's 'The Door Into Summer' then I recommend you do so immediately). The previous Rusalnaia outing, their self-titled début, was a psych folk gem recorded with various members of Espers that left the listener spellbound, eagerly awaiting its follow up. 'Time Takes Away' may be eight years in the making but it is well worth any wait, indeed it surpasses the already high expectations held by those who follow the music of both Kraus, Chadwick and their work together.
The album begins with the creeping dread of 'Cast A Spell', a looping acoustic motif merging with hand drums and ever increasing chants to conjure a truly sacrificial Summerisle mood before scattering into a full blown psych guitar and violin dervish. At once both hugely powerful and hypnotic it is a shiver inducing opening to an album that then maintains its spellbinding hold upon the listener until the final fade out. 'Take Me Back' follows, Chadwick and Kraus's vocals mingling and weaving in and out of the others amidst the most unsettling array of analogue synths and pounding, ritualistic drums. Equal parts acid folk and full blown gothic psych (in the sense of such forerunners as Mellow Candle and Stone Angel) Rusalnaia display an (un)easy mastery of the wyrder angles and corners of folk; this music is in their blood, these incantations come from their very beings and are all the more affecting and alluring for this. 'Driving' is a case in point, its deceptively simple rhythmic pace is both beautiful and unsettling, a minor key entering and tilting the song into the darker shadows and more hidden, unusual places. Aficionados of Faun Fables, Espers and UK psych folkers Sproatly Smith and The Rowan Amber Mill will find much to love here.
The Pentangle-esque 'The Love I Want' introduces woodwind to its call and response folk majesty and is breathtaking in its steady but dramatic building and layering towards a bucolic and Bacchanalian finale. Next, 'The Beast' is transported on an intense and fiery flow of fuzz guitar and organ, both vocalist's lines intertwining as if recounting some twisted, unearthly nursery rhyme. Rusalnaia are no fey, rustic folk act, these songs scream, howl and haunt with intent; think early PJ Harvey meets the black hearted acid folk stylings of Comus. And when they quieten, they do so in a manner that gets under your skin to just the same extent, if not more so. 'The Honeymoon Is Over' is by turn a spectral and ghostly lament, solitary drumbeats punctuating a delicate but driven slice of melancholy perfection. 'Bright Things' casts its (book of) shadows gently but with a circling and cackling sense of expertly pitched melodrama. 'Lullaby (For A Future Generation)' meanwhile allows some sunlight in, organ and vocal harmonies combining to create a work of genuine emotive impact and beauty. All too soon the album reaches its finale with the title track, a recorder and organ filled wonder that stays with the listener long after the song has finished.
In short, 'Time Takes Away' is a triumph. It is no leap of the imagination to picture this album being played and revered in twenty year’s time in the same manner that we do with our copies of 'Basket Of Light', 'Swaddling Songs' or 'Commoners Crown'. This is a hugely accomplished and truly special recording; trust me, you need this album.
Available now on download from the band's Bandcamp page and as digipack CD from Cambrian Records.