Our latest Short Cuts, a monthly feature where AUK casts a brief eye and ear on several albums we’ve received recently, which just didn’t make the cut for a full review. Like most major music websites, we can’t mention every album or EP we get sent, but we reckon the picks below deserve a nod. Click on the links to hear a song.
As we pant our way through the dog days of summer, we’ve dug up another fetching collection of new releases that, make no bones about it, we hope will entice you to sit up and take notice.
We begin with Bristol-based Around About Dusk and the thoroughly captivating Sweet Old Fables, a spirited collection of eleven songs that tap into folk, blues, jazz, and even swing traditions. It’s quite a rapturous sound that moves confidently through these different styles with ease. At times, it’s as if you’ve been transported to another era and stumbled into an underground speakeasy. And that’s not a bad thing. The album boasts some exceptional playing by a taut group of instrumentalists whose talent and improvisational approach to the songs bring plenty of originality and spunk to the proceedings. The songs are played with a joyful exuberance, and the arrangements impressively showcase their individual strengths, without ever muddying the musical waters. Lead vocalist Rachel Lawrence, who also doubles on accordion, has a voice both smoky and sultry that meshes perfectly with the material, lending the songs a real feel of authenticity. Opening cut, The Swarm, features an infectious Latin groove, beefed up with some New Orleans-style horns that give the song some real swagger. The marvellously feisty How High The Moon, led by some spirited violin, takes on a more traditional bluegrass feel, but is no less captivating in its performance. The slightly more subdued Falling is a slow, jazz-inflected track that encompasses some absolutely radiant vocals. Other tracks, such as Orchard Fruits with its haunting accordion and The Boat, project a more traditional folk feel, while the folk noir of Creepy Crawlies effectively merges a slithering melody that moves with slow deliberation, capped off with some intriguing storytelling. Certainly, as wonderful as the music is, the lyrics are equally impressive, always powerful and emotive and with understated originality. With its exciting twists and turns, you may not always know where the music is heading at any given moment, but you’ll most certainly want to stick around for this exhilarating ride.
Next up, Paul Mosley returns with accompaniment by the Red Meat Orchestra and his first album in six years, Monkey Hanger, an autobiographical collection of songs reflecting his experiences growing up gay in Hartlepool in the 1980s, and specifically the events of one particular evening. Featuring ambitious arrangements, clever melodies that have a habit of sneaking up on you, and a blend of musical styles, Mosley shapes a compelling sound that can only be described as completely his own. Mosley’s rich, honeyed vocals lead the way through a scattering of songs informed by a spirit of theatrics but tethered by a variety of instrumentation and inventive arrangements. Throughout, there are elements of folk, chamber pop, jazz and even a bit of Dixieland, all unified by some splendid songwriting. The record launches with Sleep on the Beach that begins in a low-key manner with an easy beat and some swirling synths before its sweet melody slowly reveals itself, leading to an absolutely gorgeous refrain. Lucky Dog (I’ll Remember You) is a bass-forward, mandolin-laced gem that features some wonderful backing vocals by Elaine Palmer, while Elephant Bones veers into folk-jazz territory that includes some nice-sounding guitar and brass contributions. The touching The Invisible has to be considered one of the album’s highlights: an acoustic-led ballad with a soaring chorus, adorned with atmospheric synths and some spirited harmonies. In many ways, the track is a microcosm of the album as a whole; songs bursting with musical ideas and sophistication, with melodies that retain a deceptive playfulness in their delivery. Intimate and expansive all at once, it’s another solid addition to Mosley’s canon.
Hailing from Edinburgh, Coldsville release their third album, All The Things That Once Belonged, ten tracks that sparkle and shine with a wondrously catchy sound full of unstoppable hooks. It’s a solid collection of songs that wastes no time in establishing itself with an utterly glorious slice of jangly finesse: the perky Summer’s Coming that sets the standard for the rest of the album. Indeed, the opening trio of songs kicks off the album in fine fashion, showcasing some expertly crafted and played tunes doused in sweeping harmonies. Open the Door begins as a mid-tempo, alt -country number driven by some steady drumming and a percussive backbeat before launching into a chorus that comes out of nowhere, absolutely gobsmacking. The slow-grooving Minor Trick rides along on some sinewy guitar and swirling organ, another melodic powerhouse. The sweet A Piece Of My Heart conveys a rootsy, country-folk side of the band that still retains all the qualities that make the more upbeat tracks so appealing. Undoubtedly, the band are adept at balancing equal doses of twang and jangle (twangle?) throughout their songs to the point that it just becomes a natural and identifiable part of their sound. Overall, it’s a smashing album where the music, on any given track, expertly meanders through the americana spectrum of alt country, indie pop and folk. It’s all played in a lean, direct, and relentlessly listenable manner by a group of musicians displaying some remarkable chops and vocal prowess that ultimately makes for an album that checks all the boxes for a fun and rewarding album.
Led by singer and songwriter Colin Halliburton, from Kansas comes The Roseline, who offer up 86 Gumption, a masterclass in melody-driven songwriting. After a brief acoustic instrumental opener, the album sets out with the appealingly tuneful Heart of Oak, whose sunny musical disposition belies the cynical overtones expressed in the lyrics: “I know what I want / I got what I need / A failure to launch and faux sobriety”. Metal Mouth features some sumptuous harmonies that float over a slow-burning groove. Elsewhere, the somewhat acerbic lyrics of North Sea Views are sung over an engagingly catchy tune with a lovely guitar sound that, really, could be about any number of individuals in today’s political sphere: “Control the narrative while you kill / Give all the suckers what they need / Such an embarrassment on the hill / They’re all careerist crooks and creeps”. Elsewhere, Tooth and Claw sees the band tackling a more traditional country sound, replete with weeping pedal steel, while the sad and beautiful Apex is a standout track that perfectly illustrates Halliburton’s skill at capturing an extremely melodic sound and combining it with lyrically astute observations that border on the sad and rueful, but always unwaveringly honest. It’s a strong set of sure-footed songs, where every instrument is meticulously played and contributes to a winning sound, where Halliburton’s pleasant and welcoming voice sits at the heart of them.
The latest release from Jim Reynolds, the retro-leaning Bird On A Wire, is a delightful frolic through a hodgepodge of sounds and influences that he wears proudly on his sleeve. Backed by some muscular playing, including some fabulous lead guitar runs and melodic bass grooves, it’s an assortment of sounds that touches upon a myriad of americana styles. Over the course of the record, Reynolds leads the listener on a journey over twelve distinctive tracks that range from straight-up roots rock to swampy blues and country-styled ballads to sparsely arranged folk ballads. Throughout, Reynolds manages to hold everything together with some substantial original songs and his expressive singing that brings just enough sandpapery grit to the proceedings. The album gets off to a grand start with the instantly likeable Thrift Store Girl and its thick bass groove and melodic electric guitar suggesting a mid-sixties Beatles vibe in its combination of words and melody, complete with a slightly psychedelic finish. Similar to the Dylanesque Back On The Avenue, it’s easy to play spot the influences; however, Reynolds is not shy about colouring his songs with various touches inspired by his musical heroes, and, frankly, the material is strong enough to incorporate them. The equally impressive Beethoven’s Metronome is buoyed by some stalwart playing and gritty grooves and an intriguing storyline. Thereafter, the album never loses momentum with one fab song after another. Ending with the sparse and pretty Love Stays, Reynolds proves he is much more than the sum of his influences and successfully delivers a collection of songs that succeed on their own merits.
English singer-songwriter Long John Makkay releases his self-titled new release, a sixteen-song collection of folk- and blues-inspired roots music anchored by some strong and sturdy vocals. The album moves between gentle folk and slightly grittier folk-blues, with a sprinkling of psychedelia and prog rock, and at just over an hour in length, it’s a generous set of songs that wear well right to the end. Makkay’s voice is the real star here, and he uses it effectively to create texture and atmosphere. It’s strong and sturdy when required, other times tender and warm. He takes a fairly standard, stripped-back folk-rock approach to the songs, but his unique brand of storytelling and commanding voice shines through on every track. Honey begins things, a slow-burning, brooding piece, with some stinging electric guitar intertwined with acoustic strumming to create an ominous setting before Makkay’s quietly pleading vocals enter the fray. A magnificent guitar solo near the end leads the song to a fitting conclusion. It’s a masterful piece of music, but the equally impactful second song couldn’t be more different. The pastoral Girl From The River embodies the spirit and tradition of early folk troubadours and features lovely finger-picked guitar, coupled with Makkay’s warm baritone. There are some pretty ballads throughout, including Songbird, a touching ode to Sandy Denny, accompanied by some sweet-sounding violin that adds just the right amount of melancholy. By and large, the majority of songs are taken back to their core essence of guitar and voice, with light touches of mandolin, violin, accordion, and occasional electric guitar, and it all works wonderfully. The stately Ferryman is an album highlight, showing off his storytelling mastery, passionate delivery, and expressive vocals capable of stirring emotions. A triumph all around.
A charming raggedness permeates Nashville-based Clark Paterson’s most recent album, the wonderfully quirky Are You Lonely Like Me? Over the course of eleven songs, Paterson presents himself as a true original with a one-of-a-kind voice and an equally unconventional delivery that works just fine in the context of his songs. Paterson is a delightful storyteller, and the songs are presented in a refreshingly honest and open manner, warts and all; little vignettes, rich in lyrical detail. Musically, the record fuses a relaxed, old-time folk and country style with a plaintive delivery. What emerges are songs such as the opening track, the mid-tempo If I Didn’t Laugh that sets the eccentric tone almost immediately, but in a delightfully catchy, insightful manner. It’s aided by some nice piano and slide guitar, as well as some lovely female harmonies. Indeed, the sweet harmonies appear on several tracks and provide a nice counterpoint to his own slightly off-kilter delivery. His offbeat sense of humour shines through on tracks such as It’s My Liver and Allergic To Work, aided by the vintage-country-sounding vocals of Sierra Ferrell. The gently rolling Are You Lonely Like Me? perfectly demonstrates his unpretentious, dusty vocals with its Dylan-like cadences and his knack for writing perceptive, ranging from slightly oddball to sentimental, lyrics. The album ends with a sterling rendition of The Smiths There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, performed in a tough but tender manner that perfectly captures the gloom-and-doom feel of its lyrics.
From North Carolina, Davis Wells presents his latest album, Immunity, a rootsy sojourn through the heartland of americana. Wells’ impassioned singing leads the way through a set of songs brimming with sincerity and honest narratives of everyday life. It’s a tasteful blend of rock and alt-country that also drifts easily towards folkier, more introspective singer-songwriter material, all performed with Wells’ pleasant, slightly seasoned voice. The album hits the ground running with the upbeat Ashes, a politically motivated romp that marries rock-and-roll energy with some honest and meaningful storytelling. From the opening lines, “Heavy is the head wearing the crown / Ashes to Ashes we all fall down / The red cap man scaring everyone around / Kiss the ring or kneel or bow”, Wells takes no prisoners as he deftly addresses the social injustices and his country’s current political climate. Likewise, on the surging Los Angeles, he addresses, among other issues, climate change and a call to do the right thing, but in an effective, non-heavy-handed manner. The song stands out with its insistent melody, driving guitars, and big chorus, but also with its discerning observations. “Ice caps melting and that’s for real / Cuz the sea is rising come what may / I don’t care what Tucker tells you / That water’s getting closer every day”. Things take a more country turn on a few tracks, including the fiddle-driven Keep Me Away and the mid-tempo Kentucky Chew, while the country-folk ballad Long Winter tackles family and ageing with grace and poise. Altogether, there are some good songs to be had; songs that straddle the cusp between roots rock and country and delivered with unbridled passion and energy.
