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(Lost Highway 2005)  Review by Mark Whitfield 

The mediocrity of an overkill of material burns itself out with a return to the heady highs of Adams’ Whiskeytown days. Ah.  It’s nice to have Ryan back. After what now seems like an eternity (but which was probably not nearly so long – he’s just too damn eager to get albums out) of records which were kind of OK but nothing thrilling, reaching its low ebb with the major label forced “Rock and Roll,” Ryan showed the first signs of a recovery earlier this year with the mixed but promising “Cold Roses.”  Releasing another studio album less than six months later might seem like brave stupidity – certainly the sheer weight of his output would lead you to question whether quality really can come out of so much quantity – but here he is, back with a full length studio album and the good news is that it’s his best since his debut, even beating the pieced together “Love is Hell” for consistency and overall standard.  The second album to be recorded with his band the Cardinals (despite a slight change in line-up), there’s continuity in terms of the musicians involved, but the sound harks back to earlier times for Adams – most specifically the beginnings of his former band Whiskeytown’s output - it even sounds pre-Whiskeytown at times - with country chord changes evocative of Neil Young and the more rootsy side of Dylan, layers of violin, mandolin, pedal steel and even the Nashville String Machine (on the wonderfully George Jones-esque “My Heart is Broken” even if each verse does sound like it’s about to lapse into “Any Dream Will Do”), Adams sounds as far removed from his flirtation with the Oasis model as he’s ever done. On top of which the UK version contains perhaps the best version of “Always on My Mind” ever recorded – it’s difficult to imagine how good it sounds until you’ve heard it. If there is a low point to the record, it’s the dreary “Dear John” co-written (and vocalised) with Norah Jones, but it’s an exception, and nearly everything else about the album – from the production to the standard bearing cover makes the album feel like that instant classic that some artists can crave for throughout their careers. That Adams has managed to make two and arguably more within the space of what still feels like just the beginning moves of his career should lay to rest any doubts that the best has probably long gone already. We can no doubt expect more relapses over the years but if this is the reward for patience in less promising times, Adams is still the key force to be reckoned with in modern americana. www.ryan-adams.com

(Tiny Dog Records 2005) Review by Patrick Wilkins 

Does the thought of Americana from Nottingham make you groan? Magic Car show just how bloody wrong you can be!  As you might expect given the name, there are relatively few native Brits staking their claim in Americana.  There are even fewer that make a good fist of it without sounding like they wish they were from the Midwest rather than the West Midlands. Or even the East Midlands, as in this case, Magic Car hail, unashamedly, from Nottingham. They have an undeniable roots/country feel courtesy of some pedal steel and delicately picked acoustic, but they don’t attempt to disguise their UK origins.  Phil Smeeton is the writer, and occasional vocalist.  Other occasional vocalist is Hazel Atkinson, ‘all fluty piped, kissed her breath into the mics’ say the sleeve notes, imagine an English folk influence on the Cowboy Junkies Margo Timmins, and you’d be close, in case you were wondering, this is a good thing, a very good thing. As to the nature of the songs, as well as US country elements, from the UK point of view, along with some folk, you get a flavour of the Beautiful South, a dash of Richard Thompson, even an occasional aroma of Prefab Sprout.  Not exactly as expected there’s a couple of songs with motorcycle themes, opener ‘The Bikers Lament’, sung by Hazel, and ‘Gold Wing Queen’ sung by Phil. ‘Mother Nature’s Lamb’ possibly the stand out track, goes instead for the back seat of a bus, features both Phil and Hazel singing over an infectious and gentle loping riff, some Rocky Mountains rear up in this one.  ‘Small Town Saturday Night’, with an alcohol tinged sing-along (almost)chorus, could well be back in binge drinkers Britain, ‘Nothing to do but get drunk and fight’, sings Hazel, but some fine pedal steel drags you back over the Atlantic. Title track ‘Family Matters’ challenges ‘Mother Nature’s Lamb’ for stand out track, a quirky, almost surreal, nonsense lyric, it seems to be about a time travelling space man, but finishes with a quite strikingly sweet refrain of ‘Hold on to the one you love, never let them get away or fade away’.  Its another song in which things don’t quite go how you might have expected, a rare quality, and one that contributes considerably to making this a fine record. www.tinydog.co.uk

(Johnson Grass Records 2005) Reviewed by Phil Edwards

Political troubadour Cary Swinney releases his third CD and doesn't let up in his views about good ole USA. It's refreshing to hear some sense in these jingoistic times. Swinney doesn't mince his words and lets Uncle Sam have it with both barrels, particularly on 'American History' a sad but true indictment of the USA's history in dealing with it's indigenous nations. The chorus says it all "Let's go to the ballgame and sing our song with glee. And conveniently forget our past in the land of liberty". 'Dawson County' further reiterates what the nations leaders have turned his country into; "I think most lobbyists are liars, I think most men in suits are sad" whilst cranking out some excellent guitar licks. Maybe rock 'n' roll is the answer. And the ever relenting 24 hour news readers don't get away scott free. 'Parades Down Main Street's' outlines a narrative that compares "news chicks" with the pride that all Americans feel when the yearly parade including the National Guardsmen and cops pass along their main drag, whilst conveniently leaving the lies of their leaders behind. Everything is therefore ok. Not a bit of it. With the political bite of Steve Earle, the deceptive qualities of John Prine and some say the gruffness of Kris Kristofferson, Swinney manages to relay his views without really pissing too many Americans off. Perhaps he should try harder.  www.caryswinney.com

(Glitterhouse 2005) Review by David Cowling

Preconceptions go Walkabout as they crank up the guitars in this bonfire of profanities. After spending the last decade or so refining their sound from a loose kind of gothic-folk to a pulsing 21st century folktronic sound, on this release they take the title to heart and burn down everything they’ve done and start again. The scorched earth policy reveals that the folkier elements have been lost in the fire and a harder rock-based sound remains.  The titles alone should tell you something: ‘Fuck Your Fear’, ‘Kalashnikov’ or the title song don’t really reconcile back to folk music, even when Carla’s vocals are to the fore, and they use more electronic instruments as on ‘Have You Ever Seen the Morning’ - the sound is full and propulsive, the electronics like the short-circuited signalling of a cyborg designed for war. There is very little space within the songs; it is always filled, always driving onwards lest the flames catch up with them. When the throttle is allowed to slacken as it does on the beginning of ‘Northsea Train’ the riff is insistent and not pretty and it comes to dominate, relentless. Though apocalyptic, it isn’t without enjoyment - ‘Before This City Wakes’ is full of incendiary Crazy Horse style guitar and by the time we get to the closing ‘The Last Ones’ it’s as though they are the last survivors of a disaster trying to make sense of the lottery that left them alive. Suitably the pace slows, drums ricochet, the guitars become restrained and the chorus almost reaches richness - the refugees’ regret and hope are implicit in the tremulous vocals, the deep implosive guitar break, the few piano notes that follow and the last vestiges of a lost civilisation. The record seems like the soundtrack for a dystopian science-fiction story with flames never far away; even where there are strings (‘Whisper’) they only thicken the stew.  When they underscore the line ‘they take us in for identity checks’ they are like a totalitarian army, close drilled, uniform and soulless - this is one of the stronger tracks in addition to the strings; here the guitar riff gives off sparks as it spins like a grinding wheel and when it is joined by a brass section it makes it feel as though revolution is possible.  It has a lot in common with fellow North Westerners Modest Mouse and their ‘Moon and Antarctica’ record; grand themes, sweeping in scope, it differs in that it is more unified and cohesive as though their occasional forays into murder ballad territory have been expanded to a more wholesale destruction. It is the response to destruction that is important - in some areas regular razing maintains the eco-system and here it has given them the scope to attempt something different. Whilst it doesn’t give up pleasures easily, it is challenging, thought provoking and enduring.  www.glitterhouse.com

(Pointy 2005)  Review by David Cowling

It’s not math rock but it is full of odd angles and it all adds up to a well rounded effort. Obsession isn’t a healthy mental state but it can fuel art in a way that workaday love can’t, and this record seems shot through with a sense of unjustified loss - ‘Since K Got Over Me’ or ‘E.M.P.T.Y’ for instance have been imbued with a strange passion that has skewed them slightly and made them all the better. The melodies are simple and the vocals lightly melancholy - the music though is something different. It jangles, strings sawed and then psychedelic flourishes flower and then die like an acid flashback - something stirs, something dark. In some ways, especially vocally, these songs remind me of Friends Again with added attention to detail and more ambition. At times it’s as though the escape from the obsession leads to the romantic overtones of prog - then again, ‘Step into the Light’ is a spoken word piece and even here it is the story of another escape this time into the past, a simpler time before the complexities of adulthood. ‘I Can’t Seem To Make You Mine’ is a long way from the Seeds song of the same name, with soft modulated strings moving like curtains in the breeze - the vocal is melancholy and the melody sad.  It’s one of those songs that makes you want someone to hold you to prove that you’re not alone. Though geometry plays a part in at least three songs here, the record is far from coldly calculated or regular in shape.  When it slips into patterns as ‘Since K Got Over Me’ does with its Byrdsian shapes, there is still scope to bend things.  There are few straight lines - ‘Impossible’ starts with a flourish of strings, bubbles along a psych-pop path (think Green Pyjamas), swoons like the Smiths and ends with a crashing cymbals and angular guitars. This is the kind of gently twisted music that echoes around your head seeking out dark corners in which to hide, its geometry the same irregular walnut shape as your brain. www.theclientele.co.uk

(Frogville 2005) Review by Phil Edwards

Santa Fe's "Cowgirl Hall of Fame" mainstay Joe West successfully combines his South Western humour with some serious country licks. West doesn't appear to take himself too seriously and this is reflected in his approach to his music. Whilst managing to be serious on a few tracks ('The Human Cannonball', 'Cowgirl Hall of Fame' and 'Heaven') West manages to bring out the lighter and usually unexplored side to alt-country. 'The Combines are Comin' displays his observation for an easy-paced hillbilly tune that starts off with the torching of a trailer park, and goes onto tell of an affair with a married woman whilst she proclaims her love for her husband. '$300 car' outlines what West feels toward his automobile; not a lot as it happens and it also flies ! 'Straight Man in a Gay World' is SO very B52's but without the hairdo's. Most of the tracks on this album indicate that he's happy to include serious lyrics within songs who's titles don't necessarily take themselves seriously; so it's difficult to understand if West is trying to be quirkily serious, is simply being ironic or just taking the piss. West also enjoys adding sound effects to tracks to emphasis the effect. The crowds cheering in 'The Human Cannonball' (which is actually quite a sensitive song), and the vacuum cleaner during the Mariachi vibed 'Anita Pita'. The Mexican feel simply adds to the atmosphere of getting the house clean whilst enjoying ones self. Margarita's anyone ? I'm not sure whether West wants us to take him seriously or not, but this album is worth checking out. Then you can make your own mind up. I like his humour. It's warped. www.joewestmusic.com

(Eleven Thirty 2005) Review by David Cowling

Full bodied AM(ericana), way too cool to be bracketed with the likes of Paul Simon, Billy Joel and the Beatles. This record has such a big confident sound that you can’t quite believe it’s by somebody you’ve never heard of - ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ opens proceedings with an insouciant swagger and a huge dose of power pop, like Mathew Sweet at his most belligerent. ‘Baby Tonight’ follows, full of AM dynamics, piano led with delicate harmonies that raise it to another level - then ‘Call Me Dear’ which adds a note of vulnerability with its bubbling chorus, Greg Leisz’s 12 string mandolin dancing around the song flapping like a kite tail in a breeze. The chunky piano chords of ‘Lying on the Ground’ threaten Billy Joel like moments but swirling uplifting strings raise the song above the mundane. He seems to have the knack for writing tunes that seem to have been around for ever - you can sing along to most of these well before the end of the first listen, but this is because he uses well worn templates and the Beatles play a big part in this. Then there is the delivery - his voice can be affecting and infectious, carrying the songs easily, never going anywhere near the edge of its range, always comfortable with the material and always in love with the words that come out - there is real joy in moments like the chorus of ‘Upside Down’. The accomplished nature of the songs could be annoying if it wasn’t handled with such enjoyment and panache - he’s not showing off his talent, he’s using it. An all out assault of bouncy melodies expertly played over the course of 14 tracks can’t really be a recipe for disaster, even if at times it’s like spending too much time with happy clappy people. I can forgive him that for the sheer exuberance and skill he brings. For Mojo readers everywhere, here’s an entry for your annual top ten. www.ajcroce.com

(Independent 2005) Review by Robin Cracknell

A riveting, ravishing debut gleaming with understated opulence and a slow burning cool. The major curses of most self-released albums are: They sound either numbingly anonymous or so heavily influenced and derivative they are, in all but name, tribute acts. The tracks are usually quickly and cheaply produced with any flashes of inspiration well trampled under a leaden mix. Puerile or toe-curlingly pretentious lyrics--often mercifully muted by the same ham-fisted mix. The artwork is usually a sloppy collage knocked up by someone’s girlfriend at the office with a few more blurry pics in the insert of the guys sulking with their guitars. Essentially, a completely forgettable vanity project given away to friends with the vast unsold remainder gathering dust in the attic along with the yellowing reviews from the local paper. Well, Last of the Blacksmiths is an exception to all of the above. This unassuming California quartet is pure quality from every angle, a standard to which every other unsigned band should aspire. From the intelligent, evocative lyrics to the unhurried, textured musicianship to the simple, tasteful design of the inserts extending even to the delicate, cream bird silhouettes printed on the disc, this package is a treasure containing an even greater treasure.  Recorded live on a faulty Tascam 388 in Nathan Wanta’s house while his parents were away, these songs have a distinctly informal, low-key atmosphere but are certainly not lo-fi. Despite one track being recorded in the living room with Nathan’s grandfather sitting in the corner waiting for his fish supper, these have the intimacy of a home recording but none of the associated lo-fi shortcomings. The sound is faithful and pristine; so much so that studio technology could well have compromised its natural integrity. This reel to reel is real.

Calling themselves the Blacksmiths has more to do with their love of 60’s black music and The Smiths than any attempt to conjure up some iconic americana image of sweaty labourers and all the tired horses etc. Having said that, don’t expect much in the way of grinding soul or clever Morrissey-isms. With their sad keyboards, brushed drumming and a lazy, loping melancholia, LotB meander around Wills Oldham and Johnson territory with space, patience and a general cool oozing through every uncluttered track. It’s a cliché but true in these songs: the notes not played are as palpable as those that are. The lyrics are equally spare and evocative with words rarely wasted. In ‘Tree Song’, a dying tree laments the fact that children are always indoors saying ‘I don’t know why those kids never come out of their houses/I haven’t felt the climb of their hands in years’. ‘Grass Blade’ evokes memories of a simpler time ‘before televisions were in cars/when it was good enough to stare outside the window at the moving stuff’. ‘In My Hands’ with guest violin from Jolie Holland, reads like a hymn of affection centred around a father’s guiding hand. Other songs, ‘Pete McKenzie’ and ‘Russian River’ also explore the shifting ground between fathers and sons, ends and beginnings. Over 14 tracks and almost an hour of music (all originals except for ‘Columbus Stockade Blues’), this is a remarkably weighty and mature debut. Taking the simple, timeless stories of the everyman--caught between home and beyond, moving on and looking back-- and framing those stories in an equally timeless but contemporary way is something few bands manage. The inevitable comparisons to laid-back Wilco, Richmond Fontaine, even The Band are accurate and justified. www.lastoftheblacksmiths.com

(Reprise Records 2005) Review by Andy Riggs

Ellaborate return to form for a legend. The big questions for Neil Young fans are 1) Is this a 'Rust Never Sleeps' or 2)  another visit to 'Greendale'? The recent loss of Neil's father and his own recovery from illness has accelerated this release and perhaps focused Neil's attention on making one of those records we know he still has in his vault, but so often follows his own muse which takes very few of us with him. In the last ten years his output has been as always unpredictable, and at times well below par. Records such as 'Mirror Ball', 'Are You Passionate' & 'Greendale' were disappointing, especially bearing in mind that Neil is one of rock’s survivors (not only in terms of health but credibility). Having read recent reviews and pre-release publicity for 'Prairie Wind' apparently it's a follow up to 'Harvest Moon' - well it's not, it's Neil doing what he does best, writing songs about his life, family, career and world around him - indeed a recurring theme throughout the record is Neil's father and looking back. Unlike the much talked about 'Greendale' (Emmerdale) where the themes got lost in over long and heavy arrangements, 'Prairie Wind' sees Neil return to some basics and simplicity. He is joined by some old favourites Ben Keith, Spooner Oldham and Pegi Young. Track by track:

1. “The Painter” - pedal steel and acoustic guitar introduce the first song and thematically it sounds like it could have come from Greendale - but there's a warmth to the song and it contains one of Neil's great throwaway choruses that were missing from Greendale. Neil writes about his friends, some who are still with him and some 'that can't be found'.. it's a strong start to the record.  2. “No Wonder” - one of the best songs Neil has written in the last 20 years, 'tick-tock the clock on the wall, no wonder we're losing time'...making references to 9/11..and the march of time. 3. “Falling Off The Face of The Earth” - dedicated to his father, and another great song.  4. “Far From Home” - an up tempo song with horns, Neil writing about 'rocking on his daddy's knee' and family nights making music that influenced his life. 'Bury me out the on the Prairie where the buffalo used to roam, you won't have to shed a tear for me, cos' I won't be far from home'.  5. “It's A Dream” - Neil at the piano, comparing his life to others, and the bad news that greets each of us every morning in the headlines. His life has been a dream, and looks back at his childhood days in Canada. 6. “Prairie Wind” - horns again in this up tempo bluesy title track - 'trying to remember what my daddy said, before too much time took his head' - going back to his early life 'Prairie Wind blowing through my head - trying to remember what daddy said'.   7. “Here For You” - sounding like 'Out on the Weekend' Neil is content with his life and love with Pegi.  8. “This Old Guitar” - Neil writes about his guitar and his career, 'This Ole Guitar, it's a been messenger in times of trouble and times of fear' liking his guitar to his life' It's been around years & years' waiting in it's oak case'....'it can be blamed for my mistakes, it only does what's it's told......  9. “He Was King” - In the intro Neil talks to Ben Keith -' the last time I saw Elvis he was shooting at a colour TV'- he was singing a gospel song'.....'the last time I saw Elvis he was riding in a pink Cadillac the wind was blowing in his hair, guess he never looked back'.... We even get a Neil Young 'thank you very much' at the end...!   10. “When God Made Me” - one Neil's anthemy endings, questioning the gifts that were given to him and how he has used them in his life.

“Prairie Wind” will not convert any new fans but should bring back those fans who stopped buying his records in the mid-90s. As Neil reaches his 60th birthday, Long May He Run, and let's have the Neil Young 'Archives'....'tick-tock' - hats off to Neil and Happy Birthday.

(Sub Pop 2005) Review by David Cowling

Bats undergo semi-successful sonic transformation. When you lose your edge, there are only two possible outcomes - you either become dull or you become well rounded, and here I’m not quite sure if the two things preclude each other. It has been a gradual move from the experimental earlier recordings with Brian Deck at the helm to these self-produced almost pure pop songs. No longer could you say that they are Califone-lite, there’s none of that wheezing creaking rural electronica now that the catarrh of experimentation has been expunged; now a clear throated honeyed sound prances around the strawberry fields of classic pop. There is still an awful lot of attention to detail: ‘Born in the 70’s’ masterfully builds from an acoustic strum, bubbled bass, sweet vocal, echoes of piano and bentand sustained notes with whirling organ to provide a lush atmosphere, a cowboy in a conservatory. There are obvious parallels to Wilco, ‘Legs of Bees’ building like a lot of ‘Summerteeth’ piles of decorative antique keyboards sketching and stretching out the pop template. You keep waiting for everything to slip into place and to soar, and there’s a moment after the helium vocals on ‘The Wind That Blew My Heart Away’ that promises that, the guitars taking over a fragile melody driving it forward with accompanying piano and deely-boppers of synths waving around - you think this is going to be it but it promptly ends, moving into the title track which is like a pocket version of Mercury Rev, the gentle washes of music like reeds bending in the breeze, roots washed with watery melody. The closing ‘Every Day That We Wake Up It’s A Beautiful Day’ sums up the record perfectly, with its bright chords of piano and some Flaming Lips style electronic alchemy overlaid with a simple vocal melody, the instruments flitting around like a swarm of midges until the music fades and the bird song takes over. No matter how many times you listen to this record, it seems to promise more than it can deliver, which is a great pity because underneath it all, this is a great bunch of songs.

(Independent 2005) Review by David Cowling

Welcome to the reflective thoughtful side of Nathan - you may find it unexpectedly moving. You know how we now have two very different types of non-fiction television, reality and documentary - fifteen years ago these were one and the same thing, the difference being that the former exists purely for the cameras and the latter would happen whether or not the cameras were there or not. Well, there is the same kind of dichotomy in music, those that are making music to fuel dreams of fame and celebrity and those who would make music anyway, Nathan (and you know I’m going to say this) belongs to the latter category. There is something authentic in his songs - his heart isn’t an artifice but a source of material for these delightfully sad songs and he has that extra thing called charm that begins to separate him out from others. There is nothing remarkable about the material; the songs are constructed simply, with mainly acoustic guitar and the melancholy sound of the pedal steel providing the settings for his troubled voice. The best passage of the record starts with the alley cat steel strings of ‘Nine Pound Hammer,’ a song that makes use of the ‘tell me you don’t love me and I’ll let you go’ cliché.  We then move on to the stripped back almost rockabilly ‘400 Miles’ which is a ‘distance comes between us’ song. He saves his best chords for ‘Nova Scotia,’ music as bleak and beautiful as the geographical winter landscape, another miniature masterpiece, this time with a pedal steel solo every bit as dextrous as Jackie Chan. The range that Nathan displays on this record is illustrated by ‘Call and Call Me Baby’ where he is joined by Jill McCallister, a call and response song reminding me of the Caitlin Cary and Ryan Adams Whiskeytown vocal battles. This is a surprising triumph for a man better known for his more humorous work; here he deals with deeper subjects and even offers some comfort for reality TV wannabes - ‘false hope gives hope as good as any other’. Here’s hoping that he gets what he deserves. www.myspace.com/nathanmayberry  

(Compadre 2005) Review by David Cowling

This is the perfect album for the disenfranchised folk of New Orleans. McMurtry is like wheat beer - cloudy, agricultural, substantial and something of an acquired taste, you might be put off after a few sips but if you get the taste, it’ll stay with you. This isn’t a sparkling translucent brew, the issues aren’t transparent, the music is a thick southern brew that serves as a background for the sermon like prose that he delivers - capitalism is evil, and it robs the ordinary man of his dignity and leaves them as flotsam on a tide of globalisation. The stories are hypnotic, like driving long distances - the thrum of the tyres on the road, the monotonous rhythm of his voice, it’s all much the same, occasionally the lyric will act as a rumble strip.  The music is an unchanging rain spattered flat country and offers no relief (actually that’s not quite true, a few shafts of sunlight do burn through - the baritone sax, trombone and fiddle on the opening ‘See the Elephant’ bring some welcome levity). Otherwise it’s the same pace throughout, though the old standard ‘Ole Slew Foot’ shows a welcome flash of humour. It’s not as though you can’t gain any enjoyment from the record - the songs individually would be great on the radio or a compilation and songs like ‘We Can’t Make It Here’ would stand out as gritty realist invective, the downbeat tone and the flat intonation a welcome change. Over the course of a record the sheer weight of it beats you down much like the system that he rails against - perhaps this is an ironic strategy on his part. In a way he’s like a curmudgeonly Status Quo sticking to the same chug and boogie sonic template; in some ways it’s admirable like the discipline of Buddhist monks and similarly if you are not a devotee you can’t quite unpick the reasons why they’d do it in the first place. I’m left perplexed wondering if I’m not getting it or if I’m reacting on some level to the liberal nationalism on display and I’m left with a phrase: in small doses a tonic; in one sitting an overdose. www.jamesmcmurty.com

(Décor 2005) Review by David Cowling

Promising start for Irish semi-experimental popsters. This is a band that have ambitions to be more than they are at present - they keep threatening to cast aside the conventional parts that keep pulling them back; the problem is they are good at those bits. ‘The Price of Winter’ rolls along on a wave of poppiness and ‘I’ve Got Wings Irene’ reaches out across the Atlantic to its spiritual Grandaddy - these are the most immediate parts, and thus those that are difficult to let go. More sonically interesting is ‘The Way I See Things’ with squelches of electronic noise hanging around in the background like a flock of hungry seagulls waiting to swoop for any juicy nuggets of melody. ‘I Don’t Know Where Are You’ threatens to go off into interesting territory, like Larmousse and their grand electronic anthems with added vocals and when you think ‘You Make Me Feel Amazing’ is slipping into the cosy soft-focus pop, a few bars of discordance shifting the perception so that the rest of the song seems all the juicier for it.  It’s a pity that this is then over-egged with too many layers of vocals and too many synths. ‘Dirty Love’ also tries to add in elements of electro pop and the result is pretty weak and unworthy of much of the good work that they do elsewhere. The closing track redeems some of the low points with a slow-burning strum but they can’t help but add in a few splashes of unneeded convention to dilute the overall effect - it must be said that this is the strongest vocal performance on the album. Once the song proper has finished we are left with a threatening coda of electronic rumblings that seem to narrate a descent into menacing darkness until acoustic guitar and vocals appear to illuminate the cavern, and when stalactites of piano notes drip down you feel that perhaps the whole endeavour would have been more successful if it had followed this more experimental bent. I, for one, will be looking forward to seeing them support Richmond Fontaine in the autumn. www.theamazingpilots.com

(Smokeylung Recordings, 2005) Review by Jeremy Searle 

Intensely beautiful stripped down Americana from doyens of burgeoning Leicester scene.  Leicester-based Pacific Ocean Fire’s second album is their first for American label Smokeylung, which means that their music is now much more easily available that side of the Atlantic, which can only be a good thing. The album has nine tracks, five of which are the entirety of their 2003 “Roadsigns” EP (no longer available), and a further two are from their 2005 co-release with Don’s Mobile Barbers, leaving only two new songs. Damn fine though this brace is, English fans’ purchasing decisions will surely depend on the extent of their fandom, as few will buy an entire album, no matter how good, for just two tracks. Leaving financial pragmatism aside though, this is a damn fine album.  On release I gave “Roadsigns” 9/10, and described it as “music to clutch yourself to, music to ache to, music to sing along with, this is simply glorious”, and time and distance do not dispose me to revise that assessment now.  The remaining tracks approach the same level, with closer “Stalled Hearts” (one of the newies), which has an unsettling, near-discordant melody that manages to be both disturbing and catchy at the same time, being particularly good, The music is sparse, intense, literary and passionate, and while, as with any band, one can play spot the influence (Calexico, Lambchop, Flaming Lips spring most readily to mind) their sound is their own.  Plaintive, passion-drenched, intense vocals are overlaid on sparsely brooding melodies, with guitars, steel and brass layered in to create brooding, often troubling music. The playing is exemplary, the production the same, and the overall effect is simply beautiful.  In fact, ignore what I said earlier, if you’ve got all but the two new tracks buy it anyway, and if you haven’t, what are you waiting for? www.pacificoceanfire.com

(Network America, 2005) Review by Jeremy Searle 

Lyrically superior set of bluegrass-based nu-folk. Hailing from Charlottesville in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains, the Hackensaw Boys are steeped in that area’s famous bluegrass, and as good as exponents of it as you’re likely to hear.  They rejoice in a fine set of pseudonyms, namely Four, Shiner, Baby J., Salvage, Mahlon and The Kooky-Eyed Fox Hackensaw, although they’re far from the Deliverance refugees, or indeed college humourists, that this might suggest.  For this, their fourth album, they’ve moved on from the high-powered furious playing that has characterised their earlier work, particularly 2000’s “Get Some” and the 2003’s live “Give It All Back”.  “Love What You Do” is the sound of a band stretching out and pushing boundaries. There’s still the occasional high-octane piece like “Cannonball”, and a couple of self-penned tradders like “Fiddle My Blues Away” not to mention the entertaining and risqué “Kiss You Down There”, but the core of this album is the more reflective and thoughtful pieces like opener “Sun’s Work Undone” and the keynote tracks, “High Faller” and “All Good Dogs”. The first is a high and lonesome lament, starting with a single voice and banjo, building to an elegiac refrain, and adding a keening and mournful backing wail at the end.  The second follows a similar musical format and weeps with loss and regret, with lyrics the likes of “It’s a suspect profession/to sell your love when it’s gone cold/All good dogs turn to beggars/That I know, that’s all I know” that twist your stomach into desperately tense knots of anguish and regret. Recommended. www.hackensawboys.com

(Independent 2005) Review by David Cowling

A lovely delicate dark brooding Americana all the way from Birmingham (West Midlands). This type of music is usually linked with porch sitting but to my ears this record is more of an indoor album. As the autumn arrives, you get an impression of doors closed, fires lit, an aura of protection from the elements and from feelings - the music is contained and constrained and his voice is intimate rather than expansive. Everything is knit together, woven so that each instrument is part of the blanket that is wrapped around his voice. There’s plenty of texture but not a huge pallet of colour - the tones are definitely those of the Fall. With acoustic guitar, banjo some threads of dobro, lap steel and violin with embroidery provided by harmonica and mandolin, even when they all join together as on ‘Son O’ Gold’ the sounds pull towards each other rather than push outwards, like the nervous fry of mouth-brooder fish the instruments never stray far from the heart of the song. The songs themselves are like individual squares on a patchwork quilt, his voice the stitching that holds everything together: the first square ‘Drunk in Montreal’ contains only his voice and where he doesn’t have the raw power of Richard Buckner, he does a good job, not trying to overfill the space.  It is the first inkling that we have of the interior landscapes of what follows. The tasty guitar and organ combination on ‘Road Killer’ is rendered all the sweeter by the contrast to the silence of the opener; it’s a record that reminds me a lot of James Yorkston, and the songs seem natural and the performances unaffected. The songs are threaded with the subtle colours of each instrument - ‘Spider on the Window’ is constructed of these delicate threads, the strings of the instruments individually discernable and on ‘Hard to See’ the lap steel provides melancholic notes of blue throughout. Whilst it’s not a record to set the world alight, it has more modest ambition than that - it is one that you can find some warmth in as the nights draw in. www.jamessummerfield.co.uk

(Road Trip Records 2005) Review by Jeremy Searle 

Decent “Best Of” from Nashvillian and ubiquituous UK tourer, featuring the legendary Al Perkins.  Kevin Montgomery has spent a large proportion of the last few years touring his heart out across the UK, and has been rewarded for his troubles with a sizeable fanbase, so a live album is a logical step.  Recorded at King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut it documents a performance from June 2003 and features his usual band the Road Trippers, who include Paul Deakin and Robert Reynolds from the Mavericks, and on steel and guitar Al Perkins from almost anyone who matters (Burritos, CSN, Emmylou to name but three).  Stylistically this is a warts and all album (not that there are many) and hasn’t suffered from much post-recording studio work.  This means it has a real live feel, but from time to time the overall sound quality, and Montgomery’s vocals in particular, are a little strained. 2003 was probably the peak of Montgomery’s live show, as latterly it has descended into tedious self-indulgence (notably from Montgomery and Reynolds) and little if any new material is offered.  On “Live from Glasgow” though the band were still in rocking blow ‘em away mode and relatively fresh, and it shows.  Songwise what you get is essentially a best of, and despite the odd dip (“Angel Tonight” is particularly maudlin and lachrymose) there are a lot of A1 songs here.  “Tennessee Girl” and “Melrose” rock with the best of them, and “Fear Nothing”, “Another Long Story” and “Let’s All Go To California” are a tryptch that can hold their own with anybody.  Instrumentally, while the band is never less than competent it’s Al Perkins, as you would expect, who is the star. The set proper finishes with blistering versions of “Crossroads” and “Ooh Las Vegas” and Perkins’ fingers fly with unfeasible speed and skill. Eat your heart out Jerry Douglas. Live albums are often a difficult proposition, suffering as they do from hints of contractual obligation, and often being little more than milk-the-fans exercises.  “Live from Glasgow” is a decent offering though, and a handy starting point for the uninitiated. www.kevinmontgomery.com

(Circus 65 Records 2005) Review By Mark Phillips

Illinoisan Brooklynite in Career-Defining, Triumphant, Return. Recorded to two-track tape in Wall To Wall Studios in Chicago over three days in January, Mills’ latest offering of atmospheric, scratched, vinyl comes good in so many ways that you’re left short of breath and heartbroken by it’s end, even if it comes in at a mere 30 minutes and a few spare seconds. Finally (finally..!!), the production is spot on, and it seems that the songs have been set free to feel and to be themselves, without sounding compressed or having to be something that they’re not. It luckily follows that the arrangements make many of the tunes here life-affirming, string or brass-lead affairs, but that they are just delicate enough for the quite sounds of hearts being shredded to come through very clearly. It’s a remarkable feat and Mills and his co-producer / arranger David Nagler should regard the finished product as an artistic peak of such giddy heights that it betters most records released so far this year in any genre. The roots of this record lay firmly in folk and classic singer-writer territory, yet he is content to borrow from other places, and you can’t help feeling that much of the heart comes from the blues and from soul, blue eyed though he undoubtedly is.  Even the Lennon and Tweedy-isms which occasionally crop up are neatly moulded to the Mills way of doing things, and everything about this record screams of it’s individuality- it just doesn’t give two hoots what you think about it and it’s key success is that this is an artist who has reached a level of maturity and confidence which allows him to do what the hell he wants. The addition of both Kelly Hogan and Nora O’Connor on backing vocals on some tracks is pure genius and they both put in the astounding performances that you would expect of two of the best, if most underrated, singers in America today. Dave Max Crawford’s trumpet is present throughout, as is Fred Lonberg-Holm’s familiar cello; both are the heart of The City That Works- the Mills band- but additions to the usual in the form of tenor and alto saxes, violin, flute and oboe all define the new textures that envelope you as you take the narrative in. 

The Songs? Oh my God. They are amongst the best in a career of touching intimacy, but one or two here are better than recent work by Tweedy, Ritter or even that camp warbler, Anthony Hegarty. “In the Time of Cholera” is perhaps the most heart-strangling moment this writer has heard in a decade.  Perhaps predictably, it’s about waiting for a whole life to spend time again with the one who owns your heart, and he somehow summarises all you need to know about that emotion without the pretentiousness of his literary counterpart. Surely a challenge to get through without choking or at the very least, getting very damp eyes. You’d defy anyone not to immediately think of that very special person, not to feel their physical presence right next to them, listening. Otherwise, “Everything about The Heart” and “You are My Favorite Song” deserve a special mention- the former a painful cry to a father for wisdom on how the heart works, though you suspect there no answers.  “Favorite Song” is at once daft and sweet:

It’s half a throw-away, but then with this songwriter, his scraps and his daft whims are better than most others’ encore material. So, finally, Chris Mills has made something approaching a perfect Chris Mills album, and on this evidence, he stands a fighting chance of eclipsing the likes of Workman and Coyne, artists who he has covered, yet whom he may turn out to be rather better than. Mills has moved into the front rank of today’s best music makers of all stripes and shades- this record deserves critical plaudits and a huge audience. www.circus65.com

(Corrupt Records 2005) Reviewed by Andy Riggs 

A cursory glance at the Philip Kane web site gives you an indication of Philip's view on life... on the first web page Philip greets us with....Greetings Bumsuckers... Welcome to the World Kane. Another thinly disguised attempt to make you part with your money for shit you simply do not need ....Philip is a self confessed poet, raconteur & arsehole....obviously Philip wears his humour on his sleeve. His last record 'Songs for Swinging Lovers' received critical praise from MM, Uncut, Rolling Stone & The Observer - I'm afraid that release passed me by. On first hearing he sounds like Jeff Buckley with a mix of Nick Drake, Al Green and a dash of Michael Weston King but he has a fine voice and the arrangements are very strong - with support of a full band and strings. First song up is 'Paul Bowles' Last Letter to his Long - Dead Wife' and Philip ain't a happy man as he states 'I'm gonna play Jonny Cash at full fucking volume' - as the press release states 'this record is for adults about his generation where he meditates on ageing, alcohol & loss'. On the third song he sings 'Well we're both 38, and we ain't been to be bed, we spent half of the night sniffing glue in the shed, it was alright, I might do it again tonight' - it's all gloomy stuff but half way through there's a great Leonard Cohen-ish chorus. There are some catchy songs with some excellent arrangements, especially on the brass led 'A Big Hole in the Ground'. Philip's voice can be heard to fine affect on the soul tinged 'Still' where his Al Green influences came to the fore - and it's a fine song, one of the highpoints of this unusual record. He tackles the Holocaust on track 9 'Thereseinstadt' which is an uncomfortable theme for a song with a wah wah guitar in the background. Written from the perspective of a SS guard at the camp he says to the prisoners, 'there are no songs to come out of Terazien' and 'the music won't save you, and prayers won't save you' half way through we have violins crunching their way through the chorus - in the end the guard begs to be forgiven as 'I come to you fresh from the war trials' - but hell awaits him 'The are not enough tears to wash clean this soul of mine'. On a 'What a Man's Got to Do' we are in much lighter poppier territory. The album closes with a superb love song 'The reason I Love Her'. A really varied and interesting record, with some brilliant arrangements and strong songs. www.philipkane.com

(Volare 2005) Review by Paul Kerr

Great collection of obscure covers.  A veteran of American new wave/post punk/power pop bands including Dumptruck and the Hello Strangers, this is Priggen’s second album.  A collection of covers , he states that “a lot of the artists I admire were known as great songwriters and equally as great interpreters of other peoples songs.” Cover albums can be fairly awful vanity projects (the equivalent of inviting someone over to see your very tasteful collection) or a chance to bring a particular vision to bear on influences allowing a degree of insight into an artist’s roots (Bowie’s Pin Ups?, any other takers?). Priggen falls firmly into the latter camp although there is a  degree here of having impeccable taste (but then, don’t we all?). The only songs that listeners might immediately jump on are Alex Chilton’s “Nightime” and (gulp) Alice Cooper’s “I’m Eighteen.” Otherwise Priggen’s tastes seem to be biased towards mid eighties British indies , Nikki sudden and the Jacobites, Everything But the Girl and Orange Juice with a nod to earlier years with the Zombies “How We Were Before” and a smattering of American indies. Gathering together a collection of worthy musicians including Bun E. Carlos(Cheap Trick) and (the) Mark Spencer (of Blood Oranges and Jay Farrar fame), the sounds here are redolent of vintage power pop, approaching the delights that were to be heard from Dwight Twilley and his ilk. Opener, “In the Inside” (originally by The Hot Bodies) churns along with  Priggen’s voice sounding a little like Alejandro Escovido. On “Big Store” (written by Stephen “Tin Tin” Duffy, originally by the Jacobites) the band conjure up a colossal wall of noise with the guitars riffing away until unleashed at the end. The guitarists throughout (Mark Spencer and Ivan Julian of the Voidoids and Matthew Sweet) are superb. There are some hidden tracks after the main fare, one, a musicians’ in-joke apparently, is a recording of some guy pitching to record labels execs to put on a huge show of some sort. This tape provides the album’s title as he states that Warner Brothers have on their roster “stars after stars after stars.” The humour escapes me but after this there are two other songs, the final one a rousing cover of Orange Juice’s “Felicity”.  Priggen has a healthy attitude to the internet and his website has information on several of the covers on the album. There’s also an opportunity to listen to it as a stream, so if this review whets your appetite head on over there and tell him we sent you. www.spikepriggen.com

(Black Hen Music 2005) Review By Mark Phillips

Mellow, Groovy and Kicks Jack Johnson Ass. It may not be what BC’s Steve Dawson is trying to do, but if you’re after mellow, acoustic, laid back and bluesy, he lays it down with charisma and personality, and he effectively puts the ludicrous Hawaiian back into 88th place where belongs (For regular readers, this Steve Dawson is not the one who’s an Idaho native, went to Berklee College of Music in Boston and now lives in Chicago- this one is definitively from the Canadian west coast; see reviews passim for mentions of the Idaho lad). Dawson’s great strength is his ability to inflect urgency and emotion into picking that’s superficially just nice to hear- he has enough of the old time feel for when a guitar, banjo or (if you were lucky) an autoharp was the main source of entertainment, and his retains a stain of the hard working life throughout his songs. He’s unlikely to be called “the new Bob Dylan” as the Mail on Sunday has been referring to Johnson, but then it’s unlikely that any of our readers take any notice of the nonsense that comes out of Derry Street. “Gold Coast” can be recommended to anyone who digs country blues, but likes a little of Cali or ‘Strine surf layered on the top; Dawson also isn’t afraid to use electronic noises, beats and samples, but they never dominate, merely adding to an environment which is defined by more organic sounds- from pedal steel and Hawaiian guitars to viola, cello and ukulele. It’s a warm, inviting mix and the likes of “Ruby” and “An Orange Grove in Calfornia” are real standouts- the former starting off briefly like a Portishead track before veering off into a dark, introspective and mildly claustrophobic world- never quite cutting it’s ties with the paranoiac Bristol sound. The string arrangements by cohort Jesse Zubot enhance the sense of darkness. “Orange Grove”, meanwhile, is completely the reverse- sunny, cheery and somewhere between Western Swing and straight 20’s flapper jazz; it’s a joy to behold, and occasionally nods in the direction of a ragtime sound, making your hips sway ever so slightly. Overall, “Gold Coast” is a real pleasure and one which you should acquaint yourself with at the first opportunity. www.blackhenmusic.com

(Tonehaus Recordings, 2005) Reviewed by Andy Riggs

The Clifford Brothers consist of brothers, Brad & Bryce Clifford and this independently produced release was recorded in Austin over the last 12 months and the brothers are joined by Kim Deschamps (formerly Cowboy Junkies pedal steel player), Tony Scalzo (from the much under-rated Fastball) and Jon Blondell (Austin session player and Willie Nelson sideman). The boys influences range from such stellar performers as Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan, The Band and the great Paul Westerberg. Of the eleven tracks all but two are written by the Brad & Bryce, with two covers 'Shelter from the Storm' and Mike Scott's 'Always Dancing, Never Getting Tired'. Brad plays drums, while Bryce handles lead vocals, guitars, piano & harmonica. Guest musicians also include Thomas van der Brook on tenor saxophone, violin, plus Rachel Lynn on backing vocals plus Brett Humphrey on harmonica. First track up is 'Home' and we are straight into top draw Americana, held together by some stunning pedal steel, drumming, piano and one of those guitar breaks that you wish you could play. Telling a tale of lost love, 'And if my heart fails to bring you home, I'll blame myself, my words are desperate, they fail to move you' - it's a very strong start to the record. Next up is the buoyant 'College St' with a riff that The Fountains of Wayne would have been proud to have written. The upbeat tempo continues with 'All The Girls (Never Care Less)', and there is some fine trombone and guitar work, working together on this song, that sounds reminiscent of Chicago (before they went MOR) in their prime. Up next is the beautiful 'Beautiful Is Never Alone' - acoustic guitar, piano, tenor saxophone combine together with stunning, evocative lyrics 'I am the great traitor, that great hypocrite, for just one kiss could kill this loneliness, you're beautiful but it's just a sketch, you're as empty as me I bet' - clocking in at over 5 minutes this is one of the many stand out songs on this record. The quality of the songs and playing never falters over the 40 plus minutes on the penultimate track 'Last Call In The North East' with it's haunting harmonica, guitar and lyrics clearly show that these brothers have the talent to make their mark, overall a very impressive record. www.clifford-signalthesun.com

(Rough Trade 2005) Review by David Cowling

The faux shambolism of Pavement meets the intricate Americana of the Band (oh, and some classic rock along the way). This leads to passages that are a complete mess, portions of seemingly accidental genius and a lot in-between - what it doesn’t allow you to do is to sit back and relax thinking that you know how it will develop. There are quiet passages of beauty in ‘The Pretender’ surrounded by guitars that want to join a biker gang and ride of into the sun. Underneath many of the songs there are hints of classic AM rock - they are well hidden, the noisy ‘Say Something’ keeps hinting that if they toned things down and weren’t so difficult they’d give REO Speedwagon a run for their money. Less worrying is ‘Today’ that has swirling eddies of guitar notes with some disturbingly straightforward vocals and a well-behaved guitar break and again, closing your eyes you see moustaches and large hair. Similarly the last track ‘Wake Up’ has a guitar break that wouldn’t be out of place on a Journey record, but then it mutates into a mass choir sing-along that redeems it. Redemption (musically) is a recurring constant: ‘Oh No’ does so with some cello and strings that rescue it from MOR, the sleigh bells helping too as they bridge to Flaming Lips style baroque construction before spiky angular guitar and irresistible vocals smash everything into a most satisfactory conclusion. There is some kinship between Dr Dog and Home - both have no real care for convention other than subverting it to create something new. The title track is gentle psychedelia shot through with acid blessed with a strong unifying tune that flows through like Cleethorpes printed-through rock. ‘Dutchman Falls’ is as traditional as it gets – it could almost be Hoagy Carmichael with its lazy drawl and crawling melody. Decoration comes from snatches of cello and impassioned vocals, with drums as primitive as you like building to the sustained crescendo of a guitar weeping like a wolf calling its lost mate. In contrast ‘Fools Life’ luxuriates in its atonal guitar interruptions and its mercifully short excursion into country speed metal. They clearly enjoy playing with our perceptions and, like a cat with a ball of wool, it’s bound to come undone occasionally, but for the most part it’s fun to be toyed with. www.roughtraderecords.com

(Homesleep Records 2005) Review by John Hinshelwood

It is always somewhat disconcerting when the accompanying press release takes on a hectoring tone, seemingly trying to dictate how you are supposed to react. For instance, we are told here that this CD " ....WILL (my italics) confirm Midwest as one of the most interesting and important bands of the European alt-country scene." Right then, so no need for any critical evaluation from the great unwashed, as it has been decreed. Apologies to the author if that seems like an over the top reaction, but really, this kind of stuff does not do the band any favours. If you are confident that the music is so good, how about just letting listeners make up their own minds? As it happens, there are actually some good moments here on the second album from this Italian four-piece. The opening two tracks impress immediately. "Release the Catch" has a slow, moody introspective feel, with violin and cello featuring strongly. "Odd Fair" is a total contrast with a bouncy, trad jazz feel allied to some Jayhawks style vocals (if you can imagine that !), and trombone, clarinet and tuba all featuring. A few more songs down the line, however, and eclection fatigue starts to set in. The prevalent, rather self conscious over zealousness to be constantly wacky and "different" (reminiscent at times of the most hippy / trippy excesses of the Incredible String Band) starts to grate more than a little. The fact that, with the exception of a few words here and there, it is almost impossible to discern any of the lyrics, obviously does not do their cause much good. That is not intended as a criticism of the band's English, it's just that the constant chewing and strangulation of the vowels by lead vocalist Matteo Gambacorta becomes more and more irritating with each song, and tends at times to detract from some interesting musical ideas. By the time we get to the aptly titled "Chewing Its Name", the plot has been well and truly lost. If you can imagine the Grateful Dead on a particularly bad trip, singing with the theme to "Steptoe and Son,” you will get an idea of what this is about. There are several songs which take on a shambling country feel with obvious nods in the direction of Son Volt, Wilco etc. that are executed with varying degrees of success, but at times there are just too many ideas (and instruments!) vying for attention, with the overall sound becoming too cluttered. The band is at its best on a song like "Magpie On a Wire" which has a thoughtful structure and arrangement with a definite contemporary "classical" influence, and if only it were possible to make out the words, this could have the potential to be a very compelling song indeed. Overall, a very erratic set, but there are clearly a lot of creative ideas circulating within the band with three different writers represented here, and hopefully, this can be harnessed to better effect on future releases. www.midwesttheband.com

(MeMe Records, 2005) Review by Jeremy Searle

Indispensable, intelligent adult pop.  A common critical lament with Miracle Mile is “why are they not more popular?”. The reason is simple, it’s because of what they eschew, not what they do. Not for them the obvious lyric, the trite sentiment, the inevitable key change and the overwhelming predictability of 99.9% of pop songs.  Instead they offer gorgeous melodies, hooks galore, intelligent lyrics that demand and repay careful listening, beautifully produced instrumentation, and an overall effect that combines poignancy and joy in equal measure, and the result is as close to a pop masterpiece as you’re likely to hear this or indeed any other year.  Recorded with the vocals right at the front, so that every word and nuance can be heard, their lyrics document and celebrate the extraordinary ordinary, the quiet highs and lows of the so-called average life.  Underpinning them is a delicate mix of acoustic and electric instruments, never too much, never too little, with bits of brass, pedal steel and the like dipping in and out of the core guitars. Each song would be a standout on lesser albums, and with lines like “I’ll see you in the morning/And like you least but love you the best” from “What Kate Did Next” it’s not hard to see why. “Paper Planes And Ponytails” subject matter would be mere nostalgia in lesser hands, but here it’s a paean to defining childhood moments and memories “waterpistol in my hand/stuck in never nowhereland”.  “Baby’s in the House” questions the desire for escape, where we are “trading our hope for a distant sun” and ending up where “baby’s in the house and she’s scared to be”, all over an irresistible melody and chorus.  There are two semi-spoken pieces: “The Secret Fold”, a poignant take on childhood that captures perfectly the loss of innocence and gentle pleasures that none of us ever quite get over, and “Night Sail”, which describes that strange feeling of being both completely enclosed and safe and simultaneously completely open and exposed that we all experience from time to time, on a boat, at a festival, at night.  Fine though they are, it’s the songs that linger the longest, as “Glow” is one of those rare albums where music and words come together in a state as close to perfection as makes no difference, and leave you with a delicious ache that makes you hug yourself with the sheer overwhelming joy of hearing such wonderful music. Needless to say the album is packaged to the same standard as the music, and the whole experience, from picking up the package through to the fading sound of the last note is quite simply, sublime. An indispensable album.  www.miraclemile.co.uk

(Rough Trade 2005) Review by Patrick Wilkins 

Get those decks swabbed and that main brace spliced, the Portland pirates are back. The Decemberists, from Portland Oregon, deliver folk derived fare that has elements of 80s indie, particularly British, but some colonial too. Vocally Colin Meloy is similar to Tim Booth, formerly of James, put this over a backing that is part Smiths, part Levellers, and you have the basic ingredients. On this, their third full-length record, they have gone for less of an acoustic approach, and for more blood and thunder, with plenty of percussion amidst the usual array of odd instruments. Opening track ‘The Infanta’ signifies this, sounding like a joyfully wild update of a lost Victorian music hall overture. The most distinguishing feature of the Decemberists comes from Colin Meloy’s lyrics, in the manner of a time traveller, Meloy lands in different decades, and on different continents, to find his themes. It’s a record that a dictionary will help you get through, so, for a start, ‘Picaresque’ is defined as ‘a type a fiction in which the hero, a rogue, goes through a series of episodic adventures’, an appropriate choice. ‘This Sporting Life’ has a mixture of American and British references, the title relating to a 1963 British film of the new realism ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’ kitchen sink school, and starts with another percussive flurry just like the Jam’s ‘A Town Called Malice’. ‘The Bagman’s Gambit’ tells a cold war tale of embassies, attachés, documents and microfilm. Both of these songs have a mood closely related to Neil Hannon’s Divine Comedy. As a counter to the Brits, ‘We Both Go Down Together’ is remarkably similar to REM’s ‘Losing My Religion’ in places. ‘Eli The Barrow Boy’ is virtually straight ahead hey-nonny-nonny folk, and as such sounds a bit too contrived. The sea shanty territory, a favourite haunt of Meloy, works better, such as on the plaintive ‘From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)’, and the jaunty epic ‘The Mariner’s Revenge Song’ where the narrator survives an attack of a giant whale ‘I must have slipped between his teeth’ we hear. An anti war song ‘16 Military Wives’ has a psych-pop feel, part XTC, part Beatles, with a hook laden chorus that runs against its serious message. Not everything works, ‘On The Bus Mall’ has more hints of the Jam, this time ‘That’s Entertainment’, but rambles on for nearly 6 minutes, outstaying its welcome. However, bands as adventurous as this are a rare commodity so a couple of misfires is an acceptable price to pay for the unexpected. If you’ve already been press ganged and dragged aboard the Decemberists pirate ship, this record will not disappoint, if you’re malingering and merely observing with curiosity from telescope distance, step right up, its worth it. www.decemberists.com

(Bird Song Recordings 2005)  Review by David Cowling

The name suggests the Three O’Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, wake up: it’s time for a psychedelic revival. If like me you discovered the Byrds through the Paisley Underground and if you still retain a fondness for the Rain Parade, the Moving Targets, Bleached Black and others, then you’re going to enjoy this. There’s a moment on ‘A Parting’ that sums it all up: harmony vocals, jangling guitar falling out of tune and then alongside it a long sustained note warping into feedback - that’s the sort of thing that hooked me in the first place and fills me full of nostalgia now. ‘Too Much To Think About’ is a mixture of the Seeds ‘I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night’ and the Long Ryders ‘I Had A Dream Last Night’ going further than either into the interior of dreams, the guitars probing the sub-conscious realms with short forays away from the centre of the song prodding synapses until they end up stranded in a vast cavern with everywhere to go and nothing else to do but stop after the 10 minute journey. Tons of fuzzed guitar obscure the melody at the heart of ‘One Trip Later’ like clouds blocking the sun, with sunny bursts of pop climbing 8 miles high to break through before the effects pedals are stomped and the Angels are playing air guitar. There’s an early REM feel about ‘Taken’ in the way that everything is knitted together so that to add or subtract anything would completely change everything - then unlike them the guitars are allowed to chase off after stray notes and five minutes later we’re back to the integrated close harmonies. The closing ‘Everything Again’ is a mildly psychedelic pop song - barely three minutes of harmonies and irresistible chords that jangle courtesy of Roger McGuin and vocals by way of Gene Clark, the same template as followed on the opening ‘So Far To Fall’. So we’ve gone full circle, not heard anything new and yet the journey has got me rooting through my record collection to rediscover half-remembered songs - and more importantly plastered a huge grin across my face. www.thequarterafter.com

(Cooking Vinyl 2005) Review by Patrick Wilkins 

A (mostly) covers record from the lo-fi gloom maestros, and don’t mention the rapping. Since the Cowboy Junkies made ‘The Trinity Sessions’ in 1987, one of the landmark records of modern Americana, there have been few developments in their style. Having said that, the slow hypnotic pace, with Michael Timmins ghostly guitar swirling around the languid sensuous voice of Margo Timmins, is still a great combination, so why fix it if it aint broke? Plus they have always had an interesting way with covers, ‘Sweet Jane’ from the ‘Trinity Sessions’ is a masterpiece of interpretation, and from live shows their rendition of Springsteen’s ‘State Trooper’ is brooding, haunting and dark, and the marathon jam based on Robert Johnson’s ‘32-20 Blues’ is frightening, eerie and thrilling in equal measure. Therefore a record of mostly covers is an interesting prospect, particularly following on from the fine EP of non-originals ‘Neath Your Covers’ that came with the last record ‘One Soul Now’. That included some unexpected choices, like the Cure’s ‘Seventeen Seconds’, and this record too has some unlikely Junkies fare. This time though there is a theme. The band gathered in February this year, together with an additional Timmins, older brother John, and each member brought two or three songs to the table with the themes of war, violence, fear, greed, ignorance, and loss. Says Michael, ‘We hoped to reach a critical mass of material that would reach out and touch a couple of hearts and souls. Our goal was to create our own small document of hope’. One of a couple of traditional songs, a bluesy anti slavery lament ‘No More’ the band first played twenty years ago, and it still fits like a glove. Less comfortable is Lennon’s ‘Don’t Want To be A Soldier’ which works fine until the rapping, from guest, Rebel, cuts in, the best thing to be said about this song is, well, at least they were brave enough to give it a try! Fellow Beatle George Harrison contributes ‘Isn’t it A Pity’ which featured in live shows on the last tour, and is considerably less painful than the Lennon song. U2’s ‘The One’ doesn’t quite step out of the shadow of the original. The two Michael Timmins songs are among the best on the record, both from the ‘One Soul Now’ sessions, ‘December Skies’ is in a familiar Cowboy Junkies pattern, and ‘This World Dreams Of’ has a great, almost spoken, vocal from Margo. What might be called the usual song writing suspects appear, there’s a reasonable take on Dylan’s ‘License to Kill’, which has Margo in fits of laughter at the beginning, and we get a couple of Springsteen songs, ‘Brothers Under The Bridge’ and ‘You’re Missing’. The latter is brilliantly worked, a female vocal transforming the perspective of this simple and very moving song. Not a great Junkies record, its really one for the already converted, there are at least as many misses as there are hits, but then those that do hit, like ‘You’re Missing’ and ‘This World Dreams Of’ hit well enough to make it worth the admission price. www.cowboyjunkies.com

For August reviews click here

Americana UK’s staff writers are James Clark, David Cowling, Robin Cracknell, Phil Edwards, Pete Gow, John Hinshelwood, Barry Jones, Paul Kerr, Michael Mee, Mark Phillips, Andy Riggs, Jeremy Searle, Mark Whitfield, Patrick Wilkins and Dan Wilkinson.

Latest Album Reviews

 

Conrad Vingoe “Highwire” (Crazy Beard 2005) When you leave furniture out in the elements, the rain and wind conspire to weather it, bleaching out the colours and leaving it smooth and natural - Conrad’s touch on these songs is like this: he takes standard folk-like forms back to their essence so that the grains of the genre are important rather than the veneer of fashion. His touch is deft and almost feminine, his words like driftwood, softly sung, the effect on you like the building of the dunes; almost imperceptible until you suddenly realise that the songs inhabit you. The seaside metaphors being entirely apt, this being recorded in Brighton, there is something coastal about the whole thing - winter walks on the beach, scarves, caws and calls of gulls, water lapping onto the smooth stones, the melancholy of out of season loneliness. With softly strummed acoustic guitars, his gentle voice persuaded by the melodies, it threatens to blow away, caught on the breeze and appearing as though from another plane - staying with you, you walk hand in pockets, head down into the breeze. www.conradvingoe.co.uk DC 

The Red Rose Girls "The Red Rose Girls" (Empty Records 2005) The Red Rose Girls’ affection and enthusiasm for their chosen style of music is self evident on this debut release. Old Time American Folk music, as purveyed by the likes of the Carter Family, is clearly their first love, and they make no pretensions to fancy arrangements, originality, or reinventing the genre in any concessions to commerciality. Of the 15 tracks, five are by the Carters and seven are traditional. There are no extra musicians, just the voices of the three girls, two acoustic guitars , and "hand percussion" . This overall approach would be admirable if they had the voices to carry it off, but to be blunt, they don't. Granted this type of music does not lend itself to an over polished delivery, but the ensemble singing here is rough and ready to the point where it just doesn't gel at all. Some of the solo singing is just about passable some of the time, but mostly this sounds like three pals who have got together for a good time, and a sing song, and someone thought that it might be a good idea to record it. Nothing wrong with that, but perhaps, in retrospect, it may seem like taking the next step of making it available to a wider public was a somewhat flawed decision. JH  www.theredrosegirls.com

Marbles “Expo” (Fargo Records 2005) Marbles is a side project by Robert Schneider, main man of Apples In Stereo and part of the lo-fi indie pop Elephant 6 collective (along with Neutral Milk Hotel and Olivia Tremor Control). This record is an old fashioned electronic pop record, a vaguely 80s feel given by rather over enthusiastic use of the vocoder, phasing, and electronic keyboards that aren’t trying to sound like anything else but electronic keyboards. ‘I wanted to do something like Gary Numan crossed with ELO’ says Robert, like that would be a good thing. Neither of those are obvious influences on this record, which often goes for lounge kitsch as much as it does pop. Some Beatles and Beach Boys elements come through, such as on ‘Hello Sun’, and ‘Move On’ both of which now sound like Oasis without guitars.  A couple of instrumental tracks, ‘Expo’, with a twee machine generated rhythm, and the synthesised strings laden ‘Jewel Of India’, sound like lost soundtracks to some east European animation.  ‘Cruel Sound’ has a demo feel with a solid power pop song lurking beneath. Probably a fun record to make, but as a listening experience, its for enthusiasts only. www.fargorecords.com PW

Maurice Mattei “Dead Rails” (Markey 2005) If you start out in a particular style or genre then you’re going to be judged against the very best performers in your chosen area - When you choose the literary singer-songwriter, you’re up against Dylan or Leonard Cohen and to make an impact you need to have something unique or be excellent at what you do. Mattei undoubtedly has an ear for dialogue and turns of phrase but it seems familiar; too many times he travels down roads that we already know, the guide books have already been written and everything seems second-hand. The performances again are fine, mostly just him and acoustic guitar, the music just the setting for the lyrics and vocals, but his voice isn’t really distinctive - it’s deep and resonant, albeit perfectly adequate for revealing the narratives within the songs. Put it all together and you have something that’ll satisfy devotees of the field but falls short of transcending the genre and having a wider appeal.  DC  www.mmattei.com  

Shannon McNally and Neal Casal “Ran on Pure Lightning” (Fargo 2005) Not content with having the authentic voice of Ryan Adams back this month, the immensely talented Neal Casal has followed suit and given us a taste of hopefully his next full length collection of songs without the by now fairly tiring Hazy Malaze rock and roll obsession – Casal is a far better performer and writer when working with the introspective, folk tinged americana of the type that’s present throughout this eight track mini album.  Collaborating with fellow East Coaster Shannon McNally, the voices are both electrifying at times, complimenting each other perfectly and when given whole tracks to themselves such as McNally’s “Pale Moon” or Casal’s “Fierce Little Bird” reach a level of understated perfection that really does make you wonder why either of them would ever want to dabble in anything else again.  www.fargorecords.com MW

Ryan Shupe & The Rubberband “Dream Big” (Capitol Records Nashville 2005) This band hail from Utah, and this is their first record on a major label, though they did release a record as long ago as 96.  It would indeed be surprising if this were their first record of any sort, as they are clearly a highly capable bunch of musicians.  At times they are almost too slick, so much so that the record lacks warmth and spontaneity here and there, ‘Ambush’, for example, is an instrumental designed to point out how well they can play, in case we were in any doubt! Some songs are smart and wordy, like a rootsier Jack Johnson or John Mayer, ‘Simplify’ goes for a rap-lite approach over a jazz-funk backing, but with banjo. ‘Would You Love Me’ has an almost Hootie feel, again with banjo to put you back in the country. ‘Rain Falls Down’ is an interesting song, unusually with a reggae backing, think Elvis Costello’s ‘Watching The Detectives’, a brave choice of styles that works well this time.  ‘Dream Big’ is not without its moments, but the record is so polished it could have done with some raw edges to give it some spark. www.shupe.net PW

George Jones “Hits I Missed… And One I Didn’t” (Bandit 2005) A record conceived as being versions of songs George wishes he’d recorded, he opens with one of my all time favourites, ‘Funny How Time Slips Away’ - following the original, a superb Green on Red version and a Chris & Carla interpretation this sounds like a cabaret version, the pedal steel twirling its bowler hat as it solos George nodding to the bandleader with arch knowingness - the overall effect kitsch, enjoyable but not moving; not how the song can and should be. On ‘Detroit City’ he sounds like Brett Sparks; throughout the pedal steel is the most dominant force alongside George’s throttled back powerhouse voice. It would be unfair to expect George to do anything other than what he does and what he does do, he does well here.  The cryin’ and cheatin’ suits his careworn voice, and if at times it sounds a little too close to Ween’s parody for comfort, it’s still solid, resolutely old-fashioned and stylish. www.georgejones.com DC

Pilgrim ”Pilgrim” (Dusty Records 2005) This has the kind of engaging charming sound that you have to think of reasons why you shouldn’t like - the songs are simply constructed from traditional country elements and performed with such an infectious joyousness that it is difficult not to get carried away with the Forsman sisters. You’d never know from listening that they are Swedish; the phrasing and harmonies are straight from the history books, the music too sounds spot on and the originals interspersed with standards are seamless. Their obvious love for the material shines throughout and it’s enough to remind you what’s great about country music. Highlights are originals ‘As You Walk by my Side’ and ‘Two-timing Darling’ which suggests that this is a band with a lot more to offer. www.pilgrimcountryband.com DC

Eric Gebhardt “Blues $1.49lb” (Independent 2005) Eric Gebhardt left his band The Studdogs citing their sleazy- blues-rock as a little too restrictive for his expanding tastes, so he set out to go it alone. ‘Blues $1.49lb’ takes blues music as its starting point, but shows no fear in branching out, country laments (Olgita) sit side by side with Jerry Lee style rock 'n' roll ('Ride Me Out') and touch on most points around or in between. It is all delivered in a rough & ready manner that reminds me of Tom Waits Rain Dogs, albeit at its most cohesive. The slovenly approach to arrangements & mixing I consider an endearing feature of this record, but the fact that Gebhardt is no Tom Waits when it comes to song writing may just limit the appeal of Blues ‘$1.49’ to all but a hardened few. PG

Mojo Gurus “Shakin’ In The Barn” (Empire Musicwerks, 2005) Howling out of Florida the Gurus have spawned a rollercoaster of a record spanning cowpunk, rockabilly and good ole’ Southern swagger. Produced by Jack Douglas (Aerosmith, New York Dolls) this is an in your face eruption of booze, bad boys and bible belting fables. The band, a four piece, play like a well-oiled machine with guitarist Jeff Vitolo riffing and twanging in all the right places. Singer, Kevin Steele, manages to balance hints of lechery and preaching, at times sounding like a young Doug Sahm particularly on “You Have To Tie Me Up to Tie Me Down”.  There’s nothing particularly new here with several of the songs retreading well-worn themes (Race With The Devil) but the band sound as if they’re enjoying themselves and there’s no denying that it’s catching. A few of the songs (Black cat Blues) almost creep into eighties boogie band land but a song like “ Baddest Mother’s Son”, a country styled tale of a hell raising badass more than compensates. www.mojogurus.com. PK.

The Red Thread “Ship In The Attic, Birds In The Subway” (Badman Recording Co, 2005) 'Ship in the Attic, Birds in the Subway' is the third full-length release from Jason Lakis fronted The Red Thread. The former drummer with Half Film continues his Grohlian transition to front man and songwriter. His well-formed material has a kind of slacker- country - power- pop feel to it (…if indeed there is such a thing) and Lakis voice at various points calls to mind Evan Dando and Joe Pernice. A sturdy collection that rocks when it needs to (In Return) but, as in my personal favourite, the partial title track 'Birds in the Subway' show they can do heart broken melancholy just as convincingly. www.badmanrecordingco.com PG

The Cubby Creatures “After The Deprogramming” (Rodent Records. 2005) Having put such thought into the exquisite packaging of their cd, it’s disappointing The Cubby Creatures didn’t invest the same sort of verve and style in the songs within. As the musical arm of Cubby, a San Francisco art collective devoted to the lofty aim of ‘creating, living and admiring art for the sake of spiritual and social revolution’, this band is not quite as original as it pretends to be. Surreal psych-rock is a broad church of exuberance and doom with plenty in between but The Cubbies, despite their lofty aesthetics, appear rather unadventurous and seem content to follow a 90’s Camper Van Beethoven pop tradition rather than anything genuinely revolutionary. They prove their credentials ably with the Beatles-esque orchestra on ‘Age of Smoke’ and the Velvets-y bounce of ‘Static Fuzz’ but this is more a document of promising moments than memorable songs. ‘Revolution through inspired living’ is a laudable motto but this feels retro and conservative; rather more imitation than inspiration. Certainly better than most indie unknowns, well-played and crisply produced, but well short of a spiritual and social revolution. www.cubby.net/creatures

Roe Sham Bo “Serotonin” (Bad Trip 2005) Not exactly Americana, more like System of a Down diluted with a little more melody and less of a tendency to the machine-gun spoken word passages. By far the best thing here is ‘Crash My World’ - it dispenses with the dynamic changes and concentrates in being just what it is, a really good pop metal song, the race tuned guitars locking into a groove and staying there carrying you along with it.  Elsewhere ‘Hold My Hand’ starts as an almost pretty electric folk song, a circular guitar figure with a pulsing bass before the inevitable squall of guitars appear. Throughout there are glimpses of the talent at work: ‘This Don’t Feel Right’ with its acoustic first verse threatens a genuine Americana moment, then the guitars explode with the ferocity and calculation of a suicide bomber. If you want an intelligent alternative to SUM42 and the like, then this is the stuff for you www.roeshambo.co.uk DC

Wicked Immigrant “White Nuns on Red Wine” (Friendly Psychics 2005) Wicked Immigrant is the American duo, John Wenzel and Chris Jones, who layered these tracks together by mailing zip discs to each other between Colorado and Ohio. The fact that they’ve never played together in the same room suggests these collaborations might sound sterile or detached but the songs, remarkably, are as warm and organic had they been knee to knee. Despite heavy metal titles like ‘Fake Virgins Arrested!’ and ‘Void Vixen’ (not to mention the axe-wielding Viking on the back cover) this is intimate, melodic and full of subtlety. Given their genesis, you’d expect them to sound like lo-fi demos and that’s exactly what they are: ideas scratched out on notepads probably strummed into a computer from the the edge of an unmade bed but their amateurishness and lack of pretension is also what makes them strangely endearing. Highlights include Sarah Arnold, one of the occasional guest contributors here, gently stroking ‘Veranda Myth’ with her purring cello into a slumbering lo-fi lullaby. Like homemade wine, this is not for everyone but it’s intoxicating enough and a labour of love for those who made it. www.friendlypsychicsmusic.com

The Zachary Jones Band “Homestead Deluxe”  (Longview Records 2005) Built around Wendy Mae’s Cranberries-ish vocals and Bill Bechtel’s production and songwriting, this amiable Tampa outfit follows a time-honoured country folk tradition of pioneer songs and backwoods ballads delivered with the usual splashes of mandolin and lap steel. Neither the vocals nor the playing are distinctive enough to generate any sort of national attention but they probably have (and deserve) enthusiastic audiences along the Southern festival circuit. Country folk of this order can sound rather bland and formulaic and, with the exception of the rocky ‘Driving West Virginia’, these songs do rather underwhelm with a frustrating prettiness and lack of contrast. If they, like the Cowboy Junkies (whom they sometimes echo), let rip once in a while and threw in the occasional darker, more adventurous number, they could well lose their anonymity and be not merely likeable but memorable. www.longviewrecords.com

Paul Wilkes “Green Lane” EP (Slender 2005) With sensitive singer-songwriter types filling up the top of the charts, there’s no reason why Paul Wilkes can’t be the next big thing. He offers a plangent melodious sound, somewhere close to the bucolic Pale Fountains and the more rock-based Hurrah! The songs are subtly dynamic - there’s plenty of shifting patterns and internal logic that means they move forward in interesting ways, cello and plucked strings giving ‘Thank you anyway’ a patina of grandeur. When he strips away the layers of decoration, the songs still sound pretty - ‘Hell and Paradise’ has little more than sprays of acoustic guitar but it is enough. The rawer ‘Broken Down Record’ offers a welcome change from the mellifluous assault, the vocals showing aggression. With three of these tracks being drawn from his forthcoming debut record, it looks like it is something worth considering. www.paulwilkes.com DC 

Jared Tyler “Blue Alleluia” (Walking Liberty Records 2005) Tulsa-boy Tyler, ‘discovered’ by Mary Kay Place and now produced by Russ Titelman, tries welding traditional Americana to a sort of blue-eyed soul with mixed results. It’s not often you get horns, turntable and lap steel on one song but Tyler seems up for anything and, although it doesn’t really work, full credit for a brave experiment. The overtly commercial production value on the pseudo-funky ‘Nomo’ and ‘Too Much’ sounds woefully out of place on this otherwise subtle and intimate album. When he just relaxes into his own voice and his own instruments, Tyler shows a heart and genuine tenderness far more engaging than a honking horn section or some pulsing reggae. The two tracks with EmmyLou Harris on background vocals are perhaps the strongest; the cajun-inflected ‘Jozie Blue’ and the dobro-driven ‘Dancer’ although the final track, ‘One World Love’, reveals a spirituality beyond usual expectations. Tyler’s dilemma is how to manage the crucial second album. The reggae/funk interludes and the jumpy horn sections seem a sure ticket to obscurity but, if he trusts himself to go it alone, Tyler could go very far indeed. www.jaredtyler.com RC

The Sons of Emperor Norton “Putrid Minds Anthology” (Joe Kaline Productions 2005) With titles like ‘Star-Spangled Boner’ and ‘The Irrational Anthem’, this anti-Bush collective of ‘The Sons’ and The Beat Meters nails its colours proudly and loudly to right-wing America’s blood-spattered mast. If 23 tracks aren’t enough for you, there’s also a radio play featuring Mark Twain and Stephen Hawking and a post-modern ‘rap’ by a whining, narcissistic airhead that defies description. The joke’s are a bit sophomoric and obvious (the target is too easy) and the music merely a backdrop for the comedy polemic but, overall, this is a high-spirited bash of boozy rednecks speaking the truth about sober men orchestrating acts of madness. Just a novelty record really but an amusing souvenir of the distinctly unamusing Bush administration. www.thesonsofemperornorton.com RC

The Post “In The Event of Tomorrow” (Jalisco 2005) Imagine a few Radiohead fans locked in a recording studio with plenty of equipment and no ideas. This is The Post. Vaguely experimental with more of an eye to ‘atmosphere’ than song, this record is not easy listening. Fuzzy atmospherics and haunted, formless vocals can be a wonderful antidote to straight ahead pop but the dreary noodling and anguished wailing here is a dirge too far and what starts off as mildly interesting becomes increasingly dull and, finally, immensely irritating. Even after repeated listens, nothing original or exciting surfaces. Uniquely, this appears to be a cd with no redeeming qualities whatsoever except, perhaps, consistency as every track is as heartless and monochrome as the rest. Without the vocals, this might make a nice soundtrack to a 90’s movie about suburban depressives but, as is, all one can say is that they made an effort with the packaging. www.jaliscorecords.com RC 

Veal “The Embattled Hearts” (Six Shooter 2005) This harks back to the kind of jazz-core records put out by the likes of Feedtime; blitzkrieg guitar attacks, abrupt time signature changes and a kind of spastic virtuosity that defies logic. Add to this some fragile vocals and you’ve got Link Wray pummelling Jeff Buckley in the Cramps dressing room. It has the metallic cleanliness of a Fugazi record so that at times the dirty spatters of truculent guitar seem almost shocking. It’s always at its best when the huge rippling riffs gather hurricane like intensity, though the eye of the storm can be quite entertaining, ‘Judy Garland’ is a modified strum of a song that has an even temper and a sugary chorus with a middle eight that your grandmother could like. ‘Mitzi’s’ is theatrical rockabilly and ‘I Hate Your Lipstick’ hangs out in the swamp next door, whilst ‘Circles’ props up the local country bar a beer in its hand a tear in its eye. www.vealmusic.com DC 

Robert Gomez “Etherville” (Basement Front 2004) Long-time jazzster, front man for his Mexican-tinged side-project, Latin Pimps, as well as touring with the Ringling Brother’s circus, Robert Gomez is hard to categorise. Despite the much touted contributions from Norah Jones and Matt Pence (of Centromatic) on this record, they only appear minimally on two tracks and these songs bare no comparison to either of their styles. Beck, in his quieter, more ethereal moments is probably an influence here or maybe Elliott Smith viewed through a foggy kaleidoscope. Gomez’ jazz background means these songs tend to unravel without any obvious melody or structure but, once those pop expectations go, they have their rewards. The minor keys and gauzy layers of keyboards and strings are unashamedly retro in a 70’s soft-focus sort of way but they are just mysterious and edgy enough to hold your attention. www.paimedia.com RC

Songs From the Blue House “Songs From the Blue House. Too” (Blue House Records 2005) This follow-up album to SftBH’s 2003 debut is a set of varied, original folk honed to perfection from steady gigging on the East Anglian beer festival circuit. With such a large collective of musicians here, it’s difficult to know whom to credit but it seems the core trio are guitarists Shane Kirk and James Partridge and bassist Richard Hammond. Kirk and vocalist Helen Mulley write most of the songs with Partridge nudging in where he can. This is a fairly democratic outfit without any obvious stars and it is usually the balance of instrumentation that makes the magic more than lyrics or lead vocals. Russell Barnes and Pete Pawsey particularly, trading off on dobro, banjo and mandolin are integral to everything that is good about these songs. Helen Mulley turns in charming lead vocals on ‘Ophelia’ and ‘Forever’ (as does Partridge on the sad and dreamy ‘Leaves’) but it is the general texture and natural joy of the instrumentation that makes this album memorable. It’s not quite Music from Big Pink but, as part of the fine English folk tradition, the music from the Blue House more than holds its own and probably sounds even more vibrant and uninhibited in an open field or a crowded pub. www.songsfromthebluehouse.com RC

Tony Hall “Seven Falls” (Magik7 2005) From Louisville, Kentucky, Hall teaches music and has played in a variety of bands (including prog rock) over the years. He says this album was ten years in the writing and consists of” songs grouped by a common theme of "ecstasy, misery, and the search for inner sanctity"”. Playing most of the instruments himself (Jerry McBroom plays drums throughout) the songs are acoustically driven with Dylanish harmonica on several of them. Embellished with various keyboards, violin and on one song (Puerto Rico) horns, Hall shows a fine sense of melody and hooks to hang his words on. Lyrically however some of his lyrics seem clumsy, crammed into lines that have him rushing to maintain the scansion, on “Seven Falls” for example a line goes “I think you need to take the escalator down to your heart “ and later “ And learned not to be so afraid of storms that blew in from that impending rage.” All in a single breath. It’s reminiscent of Lloyd Cole at his most wordy. This is particularly evident on the best song on the album, the final track, a medley of an original, “Pearl” and the Waterboys’ “This is the Sea”. Weighing in at nearly ten minutes and with prominent vibraphone this is like a meeting of the aforementioned Cole and Tim Buckley and is reason enough to buy this album. PK  www.mgk7.com

James William Hindle “Town Feeling” (Badman Recording Co. 2005) It is an ironic title for James William Hindle's third album, being as he has recently relocated from the hustle & bustle of north London to the green belt climes of Yorkshire. This retreat from urban life is omni present on Town Feeling. Laconic opener 'Dog & Boy' has a back porch homeliness to it that perfectly serves the subject matter, which has a level to it beyond the simplicity suggested by the title.. 'And the paths are all leading you to the places you don't want to go'. 'Silence' is a kind of countrified Belle & Sebastian, thanks in part to Hindle's soft, slightly high-pitched voice and a great trumpet motif running through it. Great instrumental touches like this and the finger- bells in Dog & Boy add real depth and texture.   Two stand outs on Town Feeling are the duet 'Sleeping Still' where Hindle is complemented by an ethereal vocal courtesy of violin player Julia Rydholm, a perfect ballad that is cruelly only 1 minute 24 seconds long, and 'Seven Hours' which starts for a verse and chorus as a guitar/ vocal performance, but the band kick in with a guitar lick bending into the mix that Clarence White would doff his cap to. Standing back it is a fairly straight country folk song, but the performance and hazy, lazy feel pretty much nails what Hindle is trying to get across with Town Feeling. As summer has, once again been cruelly cut short, allow James Hindle to help you hold onto the feeling for just a little longer. www.jwh.hiah.com PG 

No North "Beyond The Black" (Country Fire Records 2005) It's strange that an album as good as Beyond The Black should be such a disappointment. Almost as soon as it had finished there were no strong memories or feelings about it. It was fine but nothing had worked its way into the soul. The work of a multi-instrumentalist duo, in truth it sounds like the work of multi-instrumentalists. Musicians who know where everything goes but have little sense of the power of music that comes from the heart. Billed as drawing on New York rock and punk, American roots and Hip Hop grooves, to varying degrees it fulfils its promises, the problem is that there's nothing binding these disparate elements together. The opening track City is propelled by an instantly forgettable and rather shallow groove. Far superior is Don't Matter To Me, an energetic little rocker that at least shows a bit of devilment but then, all too soon, its back to combinations that appear forced, unnatural and never quite seem to work. Undoubtedly the duo behind No North know how to make music. The pieces of the jigsaw that make up Beyond The Black are all in the right order and are very clever, perhaps a bit too clever. The frustration doesn't come from what they've done so much, as from the fact that they never quite convince that they know why they are doing it. MM

Jeffrey Luck Lucas “Hell Then Divine”  (Antebellum Records 2004) Its not revealed whether ‘luck’ is a real part of Jeffrey Luck Lucas’s name or an ironic addition, for irony it would be, you get the idea from these sombre and, at times, desolate songs, that ‘luck’ has rarely entered into things, unless it was of the bad variety. He has a formal training in composition and cello playing and has chosen to put it to good use in this collection of alt.country noir songs. The record mostly adopts a mournful slow pace, underpinned by some aching pedal steel, this style can drag a little, but does pull you in and create a certain mood. There are hints of Mexico that filter through now and then like bright flashes of colour that stand out in the gloom, they bring an inevitable reminder of Calexico, and while we’re in that particular border town, there’s also some Howe Gelb style low key vocals. The Chris Isaak of ‘Wicked Game’ and ‘Big Blue Spanish Sky’ is another link, like Isaak, Lucas is from the San Francisco bay area. ‘Sway To The Roll’ is quietly infectious, and probably the most immediate song on the record, ‘Old Mexico’ and ‘Radio Towers At Night’ and ‘Midnight Texas’ give a reasonable indication of mood in the titles alone. Nothing groundbreaking here, but what it does, it does very well. www.jeffreylucklucas.com PW 

Dan Hicks and the Hot Licks "Selected Short" (Surfdog 2004)  This won't disappoint long time fans as all the Hicks trademarks are alive and well here, with tongue in cheek, caustic humour to the fore in this collection of swing / jazz/ country kitsch. "That's Where I Am" and "Willie" are classic examples of the Grappelli meets the Andrews Sisters style which Hicks and his "Lickettes" have honed to perfection, with original Hot Licks member , violinist Sid Page , fiddling to great effect in the classic Hot Club vein. "Mama's Boy Blues" and "Hey Bartender", on the other hand, sees the band in more 60s "bad hairstyle" pop mode , both featuring some predominant cheesy acid jazz Hammond. The latter has some great exchanges between Hicks and the girls, as they add a commentary to each of the leader's heart to heart exchanges with the bartender. Less successful is the duet with Willie Nelson "One More Cowboy" where Hick's vocal frailties are exposed in a lacklustre unison outing, where a harmony here and there could have lifted the mood somewhat. All in all, a good listen, although you get the feeling that most of the songs would benefit from the atmosphere of a live performance in front of an audience. JH www.danhicks.net

The Little Pilgrims “The Little Pilgrims” EP (Independent 2005) I’m not sure why I think this but the opening ‘Billy Bishop High’ is like a surf instrumental played by an Amish High School Band, so it’s all the more shocking that the second track contains mild swearing, this time in the context of a Band (think ‘Gypsies Tramps and Thieves’) style romp. Bob Egan adds his usual fluid pedal steel to ‘Lookin’ and Actin’ Like a Prune’, there’s a happy clop to ‘Too Hot to Trot’ and just when you think it’s becoming too predictable, an alto saxophone comes in to turn things upside down. The closing steel driven melancholy ‘Broken Heater’ hints at more fertile territory somewhere between Knife in the Water and the Pernice Brothers. www.littlepilgrims.ca DC 

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Americana UK’s staff writers are James Clark, David Cowling, Robin Cracknell, Phil Edwards, Pete Gow, John Hinshelwood, Barry Jones, Paul Kerr, Michael Mee, Mark Phillips, Andy Riggs, Jeremy Searle, John P Stevens, Mark Whitfield, Patrick Wilkins and Dan Wilkinson.

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