A night that Americana UK is only too happy to support is a celebration of the life of Barry Marshall-Everitt at the Borderline in London – an event that’s particularly timely given the announcement concerning this historic venue at the end of August this year. Back in May, owners of the Borderline, DHP Family, explained that its closure was down to ever-increasing rents, rising business rates and the ongoing redevelopment of the Soho area. Continue reading “A Last Hurrah for Barry Marshall-Everitt”
This glorious album opens with the strident and harmony-drenched ‘Crazy World (Judgement Day)’, a snapshot of the album’s themes and indeed musical muscle – driving banjos, Hammond organ and stomping chords. Ostensibly an acoustic album the Jamestown Revival’s close harmonies are in full evidence with their hints of The Avett Brothers, Simon and Garfunkel and even The Everlys.
Life is bittersweet at best in the scenes summoned by Ethan Fogus on The Witness Marks’ self-titled debut album. Every triumph is tainted. Every success is suspect. The characters are frail and their fortunes are fleeting. Their stories force us to ponder whether it is destiny or circumstance that has done them in. Each song is a snapshot of a moment or a sonnet spun from memories. 
Some music requires repeated listening and reflection to grasp the artist’s intent. This album is not one of those. It is simply a joy to listen to from the very first time you hear it. Whether this is because it is a well-selected compilation or because we are already so familiar with traditional music is unimportant. Tui have taken old-time music and made it at once fresh and vibrant. 
The Love Sprockets are a folk duet from Colorado, comprising husband and wife Jahnavi Newsom and Addison Rice, both singing and playing a plethora of instruments. Their second album ‘Chickadee’ is named after their daughter, who briefly saw the light of day but never touched the ground. 
Flicking through a back catalogue of reviews of Peter Bruntnell albums – and ‘King of Madrid’ is his tenth – a hefty proportion are seemingly dedicated to dreaming up new ways of insisting that the Devon-based singer-songwriter is British Americana’s best-kept secret, the sub-text of the argument presumably being that only the inexplicably fickle tastes of the record-buying public/international music industry/whichever gods secretly rule the universe of popular music have deprived Bruntnell of the star status he so richly deserves.