The definitive, hugely entertaining background exploration of why Paul Brady’s music matters so much.
For any diehard Paul Brady fans, this album can only mean that – as the saying puts it – Christmas has come early. But in fact, in a production as wonderfully overarching and comprehensive as this one, pretty much anybody can enjoy the festivities.
In one fell swoop, “The Archive” provides what feels like an almost unlimited travel pass to visit the main attractions of the enormous hinterland (six decades and counting) of musical creation of one of Ireland’s top contemporary roots music artists. Which is a way of saying that amongst the 63 (63!) tracks across four CDS that comprise “The Archive”, you’ll criss-cross through countless multiple mini-collections of acoustic rarities, collaborations with other artists, obscure (and less obscure) live recordings and demos. Not just that, the whole shebang also comes with a wonderfully informative and varied booklet of memorabilia and some exceptionally useful (and thankfully concise, given the sheer volume of material it could contain) notes on each song and how and where it fits into Brady’s career.
There is so much ground to be covered, too – starting with Brady’s early days in Dublin bands in the 1960s, then moving onto the revival of the Irish folk scene in the 1970s and his fleeting membership of one of its most important components, Planxty. After that, Brady moved on to some fantastic collaborations with another ex-Planxty member, Andy Irvine and then began his longstanding solo career in 1978, where to the present day rock and pop and Nashville country and americana all blend deeply and powerfully with his main folk roots. It’s a testament to his diversity and appeal as a composer, too, that Brady’s songs have been recorded by artists as wide-ranging and well-known as Eric Clapton, Santana, Carole King and Cher, to name but a few – and there are plenty of reminders of that fact on “The Archive” too.
Perhaps the best strategy when handling the plethora of material that such a broad-based, lengthy career will leave in its wake is the one which Brady has adopted in “The Archive”. Rather than categorise and order the music chronologically or by genre or even by type of recording – live, acoustic and so on – he’s seemingly simply thrown all the songs up in the air and let them land where they fall. This lack of clear structure might annoy some diehard fans for the lack of continuity, but in some ways, it feels very democratic. By being in no context other than part of Brady’s entire creative output, each song is heard 100% on its own merits. If you do listen to it in order, too, rather than pick and choose, it creates a marvellously unpredictable kind of musical landscape, a bit like a jukebox gone mad – but which once again just underlines how much ground Brady has covered in his different musical phases.
This is why the notes are so important, too, because whereas otherwise you’d just feel lost in a morass of admittedly excellent music, they provide much-needed background. For example they explain why well-known powerful social protest songs like ‘Nothing But The Same Old Story’ (as covered in the excellent analysis by colleague Andy Davidson for AUK here) have been included in a very different format to the original. (For the record, the high-powered acoustic version with Donald Lunny on the Archive was an improvised recording for a renowned BBC documentary about Irish music and emigration, ‘Bringing It All Back Home’. And while a lot of Brady fans might disagree, for this reviewer, at least this track is actually more striking and emotive than the much less raw, overly smooth studio version…to be discussed.)
Time and again, thanks to the notes, that bigger historical picture kicks in, in fact, such as when you also learn that a near-carboncopy of ‘Baker Street‘ was part of a concert homage to the late Gerry Rafferty and acts as Brady’s tribute to the artist who, as he puts it, made him decide to want to be a songwriter. But it’s not just the big gigs and hit songs and personal revelations that get a look-in here.
While there are literally too many ‘hidden gems’ to mention, one standout track is his duet with Carole King of ‘Believe in Me’: That’s not just because the song itself feels like a huge, heartwarming affirmation of somebody finally finding confidence in themselves. By being played for the first time at a holiday camp for children with serious illnesses, it clearly carried a heartfelt message for that particular audience, too.
“I’ve been here a long, long time
Trying to get things right
You might think I’d know by now
But it’s still out of sight
People say I’m doin’ ok
And when will I get sense?
They can’t see what’s sure to come
When I get confidence.”
It’s the umpteenth reminder, also, of how much deep empathy and compassion for his fellow human beings there seems to be in all of Brady’s music and singing – sometimes gently plaintive, sometimes much more outspoken and angry – no matter the era.
That song is one emotional high point of the album, but it has to be said that the list of ‘Oh wow, he did that too’ songs (not exactly a recognised category, but what the hell, the definition works) runs on for a very long time as well. The excellently off-the-wall and well-arranged cover of ‘Gimme Shelter’ (Who’d have thought a tin whistle could work so well within a Stones song? Well, it does.), which featured in the ‘Sons of Anarchy’ TV series, for example, is probably his best-known track, given Brady says it’s his most streamed song on Spotify. But songs like the duet with Kate Rusby on ‘All God’s Angels’ or with Rodney Crowell on Johnny Cash’s ’40 Shades of Green’ or with Mary Black of ‘I Will Be There’ are yet more milestone moments worth listening to again and again, as well. And so, too, are the rare opportunities to hear him singing songs in Irish Gaelic, like the delicately poised ‘Gleanntáin Ghlas’ Ghaoth Dobhair’ or the translated version of one of the best-loved 19th century USA folk songs, ‘Bruach Loch Pontchartrain’(‘Lakes of Pontchartrain’).
It’s barely surprising in such a huge variety of Brady music that there are some tracks that feel a bit superfluous, like the rather wooden, low-key cover of The Beatles ‘You Won’t See Me’. But in fact, even the songs that don’t quite seem to make the cut help provide a contrast with the blindingly rich variety and quality of most of the material. The overall reality is “The Archive” is like a massive festival of Paul Brady music from A to Z, in which – just like in the best festivals – even if you don’t like bits of it, there really is something for everybody. And like the best of festivals, too, you come away thinking that one or two glasses of potentially dodgy beer notwithstanding – overall, that was simply amazing.
