Peter Bruntnell returns to the fray with an album which ranks amongst his best.
Peter Bruntnell’s latest album finds him returning to a full band lineup after his foray into a more introspective landscape on “Journey To The Sun”, his lockdown recorded album which ventured into synthesised sounds with nods to David Bowie and Brian Eno. “Houdini And The Sucker Punch” finds him reunited with long-term band members Peter Noone, Mick Clews and Dave Little on an album which harks back to the glory of “Normal For Bridgewater”. Assisting the band is a mini host of luminaries. Jay Farrar plays piano on one song while his bandmate Mark Spencer adds keyboards. James Walbourne kicks in some guitar licks and pedal steel player Eric Heywood plays some sublime pedal steel on several of the songs.
The album opens with a grand flourish of acoustic guitar before Hammond organ and pedal steel weigh in on the perfectly crafted title song which positively flies from the speakers. It’s somewhat enigmatic, the title alludes to the demise of the famed escapologist but the song encapsulates Bruntnell’s mastery of country rock-flecked songs with more than a speckle of jangled power pop contained within. ‘The Flying Monk’ is somewhat heftier, Bruntnell adds a fine harmonica break while Heywood’s pedal steel still flies high but the rhythm section is much punchier and reminiscent of the grungier aspects of REM. Digging deeper into an American sound there’s the barrelling rock’n’roll of ‘Yellow Gold’, a tale about a 49er miner which has James Walbourne’s guitar spiralling throughout it.
Bruntnell’s more plaintive self reveals itself on ‘Sharks’ which finds him sounding bruised over a gorgeous backdrop including a mournful cello (played by Laura Anstee). It’s apparently about Bruntnell’s first record deal when his then label tried to portray him as a surfer! ‘Stamps Of The World’ is in a similar vein although it’s even more resigned. Heywood’s pedal steel here is simply superb, gliding and keening as Little and Bruntnell’s guitars glimmer quite wonderfully on a song which is a beautifully dark reverie. Midway between these is Bruntnell’s admission of being a bit of a slacker who can’t get out of his bed of a morning on ‘Out Of The Pines’, a song whose landscape resembles that of ‘By The Time My Head Gets To Phoenix’.
More lively is the retro psychedelic sounds of ‘Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo Jump’, a song which reminds one of Revolver era Beatles with corkscrewed guitars and freaky synthesised keyboards while ‘No Place Like Home’ is replete with Byrds’ like chiming guitars. The album closes with its most introspective song, the glorious contemplation which is ‘Jimmy Mac’. Anstee returns on cello as Bruntnell plays bouzouki and synthesiser while referencing the old Martha And The Vandellas’ hit of the same name as the song slowly unwinds through a flutter of sound effects -voices and helicopters co-mingled – adding a sense of menace before it culminates in a brief and repetitive guitar coda played by Little. Is it a song about nostalgia, about growing old? Who knows but it’s a tremendous way to end an album which deserves to be considered amongst the best that Bruntnell has bestowed on us so far. A definite contender for album of the year.
