French psychedelic pop finery from a group who first caught my attention with their 2016 debut album ‘In Excelsis Stereo’. Five years on, all that I had heard in the intervening period that these were still a going concern was a couple of, admittedly superb, EPs amid reports in the press that there had been a change in personnel. Now a sextet, their second album realized the stunning potential apparent on that first album then added to it in waves. ‘Sabbat Matters’ was an incredible record absolutely spilling over with heavy melodic adventurousness, lyrical vim and wonder. A dizzying, head-in-the-clouds, musical dream bursting into reality.
Maybe not to younger ears for whom the popular sounds involve a bit of electronic modernism, a rap segment or an autotuned vocal track, but for me this is out-and-out pop music. OK, so you could argue that it is a pop music sound that found it’s big moment in the charts more than fifty years ago when Shocking Blues were frugging ‘Venus’ and fuzz guitaring their way through the ‘Hot Sand’, but if pop remains built around songs and tunes, especially ones that are instant, alive and played with joy and passion, then this can be called nothing other than pure pop. This is a ten-track record without filler, it fizzes, sparkles and hits its mark on every single track.
Up front the group build their sonic wizardry around a trio of female vocals who all caress the lyrics in that precise way that mainland Europeans do when singing English language words. But this is, in part, why the music is so vital, because as much as there is a feeling of looseness and opportunities to wig out a bit instrumentally are not denied, this never slips into indulgence or sloppiness; these tracks are as carefully and creatively constructed as the lyrics are meticulously enunciated. Then add to that the late sixties, early seventies period stylings of playing, but playing that is alive with feeling as it breathes life into these songs. So, a near perfect retro pop record then, but only because the compositions are so strong; retro sounds for the sake of retro sounds are never that exciting to me.
Nothing this good was ever built for the sake of it though. Yes, the pagan and sabbat themes may well conjure up images of fifteenth century witchcraft, ‘The Wicker Man’ and acid-folk queens, which are far from the topics on the lips of the average pop kid, but choose to embrace the vintage eastern vibes, the overwhelming smell of incense and peppermints, and a kaleidoscopic pop experience is here waiting for you. This is the reason music aficionados like me dig around the margins, there may well be a lot of unwanted and unloved dross fallen to the wayside, but there is also an abundance of rare and beautiful gems either waiting for discovery or ripe for rediscovery. This is music that needs to be heard by anyone with a love for strong, colorful, gorgeously sung pop music with a late sixties psych-pop, fuzz heavy, freakbeat flavor. Yes, it really is that good, go and check it out immediately.
The reason music lovers such as I get labelled as “snobs” is because we are dismissive of many (not all) of the big selling mainstream names who receive mass acceptance as representative of current tastes. And yes, I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to pouring cold water on Ed Sheeran’s acclaim or reacting with repulsion at the latest Coldplay offering. But hear me out, this is certainly not because I resent success or popularity, I am a massive Beatles fan for starters and you do not get more pop than that. The thing about the aforementioned is simply that, bleeding through every note of clinically clean music they produce is the sound of marketing. The stench of music created not because an artist was struck by a lightning bolt of inspiration, more the need to fulfill a criterion to supply new ‘product’ and from there on in, the overwhelming impression of demographic pleasing boxes being ticked is hard to ignore. In my opinion, it just makes for very predictable and dull music.
As for exciting pop and especially mainstream success, well I am all for it. There is nothing more delightful, even today when charts are all but irrelevant, than seeing a musician who has created something stunning, fresh, inspired and entertaining getting the recognition they deserve. I mention all this because in 2021 Greentea Peng made an album that did just that, it grabbed attention in all the right places by virtue of just being very, very good. This was an album bursting at the seams with ideas, both musically and lyrically. Wit and wisdom were in abundance and the whole record seemed to splash your face with its freshness. So, it was no surprise to me when reading an interview with the artist in The Guardian last year to see a prediction that, should her career ever become about anything other than music, she would take a step back from it.
Greentea Peng is the performing identity for Aria Wells, it was a name lifted from packaging of Peruvian green tea and includes the slang term for attractive, Peng, because a lady on there was depicted wearing only tea leaves. Aria was born in Bermondsey and to this day retains a kind of Amy Winehouse-like cutting edge that firmly places her in England’s capital, although she pointedly presents herself as a citizen of the universe, not belonging to just one location. Aria found her voice while travelling, literally when she got herself noticed at an open-mic night in Mexico and landed an invite to front a local covers band. She pretty much took that starting point and ran with it, having earned her living from music ever since. The journey took in an attention-grabbing TV appearance on Jools Holland and hot tips as one of the BBC’s sounds of 2021, but the real arrival has been with the debut LP ‘Man Made’.
If there is an over-riding vibe to ‘Man Made’ then it is mellow, with a soulful edge and a savage punch behind the blissed-out textures. It is very dubby, very London or at least what I think of as London. Wells did state in interviews around the time of the release that the theme could be summed up with the word ‘austerity’ which, for a creative artist, is suitably open-ended. That said though, dive into the grooves here and you do feel the realities of modern-day post-Brexit Britain seeping through, maybe more than the austerity it is the inequalities that stand tall. Opening number ‘Make Noise’ breezes in like a dream, floating on a bedrock of vintage vinyl crackle and right there in the middle of the deep bass and the cloud busting synths is that central, pure voice. A real sound, one that gets straight to the truth, dedicating what is about to come to those who stand alongside her and the dearly departed. An invitation, a throwing open of the door with an offer to make noise; what follows does just that with conviction.
Now I do not want to diminish credibility on my music critic credentials by admitting that I made my mind up about a record two tracks in, but that is exactly what happened with this one. From the second that juddering, funky bassline that beats through the heart of ‘This Sound’ rattled my ear drums all I could think was “yes, I’m having this!.” Greentea Peng is using the tune as a calling card for her music, but it succeeds in not actually defining the sound she makes, more throwing all the cards in the air and daring the listener to make sense of this if you can. It lifts you, it can be danced to, there are elements of jazz in the little trumpet fills and an urban nu-soul texture as she calls you to groove to it but really, what is this sound? It feels free, it feels boundless and that is what is so exciting. It is not trying to be anything, it just is; Wells may get a kick out of teasing us with suggestions like physical and metaphysical, but the real source is just a singular soul expressing herself with freedom and joy. Seriously, if your ears do not respond with positivity to this sound, you are going to need to check you are using them properly.
And that is the pure pleasure of this album in a nutshell. It is free, nothing is discarded in the pursuit of the right vibe. Be it open aired flute flourishes in ‘Be Careful’ or the smooth, keyboard touches that underpin ‘Nah It Ain’t The Same,’ a song that cannot stop evolving as a brilliant second phase introduces drum ‘n’ bass rhythm and an unexpected honky piano part. Even when things get real on ‘Suffer,’ a tune that brings acoustic textures and a nightmarish sonic template that recalls Tricky and his darkest Trip-Hop experiments, there remains at heart Greentea Peng’s healing hand, offered in solidarity to all suffering and collectively enduring these modern times. That is the key constant element throughout this wonderful album. Across eighteen tracks that rebound from the laid back to the urgent, Greentea Peng has built a psychedelic soundscape that will not pander to anyone’s rulebook, it simply shines bright by following its own thoroughly eclectic muse. Kick back and enjoy this.
It may only be 2014 since the Reigning Sound last released an album but still, ‘A Little More Time With’ did arrive in 2021 feeling like a reformation. Happily, unlike many bands who get it together again after a hiatus, this one returned strong and with barely a hint that they had ever been away. That can be attributed to the attitude which itself should be credited to main man Greg Cartwright. If ever there was a man with a healthy regard of success it is Greg. He remains singularly unphased by the trappings of acclaim and recognition, never losing sight of the thing that brought him to this place from the outset, the music. In the intervening years you were as likely to spot him around guitar and vinyl stores as you were a recording studio and typically, he did not countenance any return to record making until he hit a rich vein of songwriting. That is why this one stands out as an end-of-year highlight, it is because the songs are just so damn good.
One of the greatest things about pure Garage Rock is its simplicity. The uncomplicated directness of the music, the lack of fuss in lyrics that refuse to overcomplicate what they convey and the way Garage Rock never loses sight that its roots are in Pop music. Just look at the opening track here, a Greg Cartwright original ‘Let’s Do It Again’ wherein he eagerly anticipates the return of someone missed. Once they used to turn down the lights and play records all night and he knows they will be doing it again real soon. The music has a joyful bounce to it and you must assume there is a passing reference to the reformed Reigning Sound themselves and their collective enthusiasm for this new album. This is a mood that continues throughout an LP which features all, bar one, Greg Cartwright new compositions.
Of course, Garage Rock would not echo with so much lovelorn emotion if it did not feature a little heartbreak, something which appears immediately on track two ‘A Little More Time.’ The way the organ pattern swirls between a major and minor bedding before stabbing out a little peril when Greg goes for broke and lays bare the tragedy in the back of his mind, show what a musical maestro Cartwright has become in this song form. The album could never be an old boy’s footnote with songs like this to play. That said, even the cover of Chris Andrews ‘I Don’t Need That Kind Of Lovin’ kicks ass with its punky ‘Summertime Blues’ style riffing.
The pace eases for a moment of late-night spookiness on ‘I’ll Be Your Man.’ Is Greg dreaming as he sings about travelling between two points in space time, having set out by asking his driver to turn the car lights off at night and travel in the dark as the road disappears? It may not be as fantastical as that, maybe Greg is throwing all his cards in with this dark number as the refrain of “…and I’ll be your man…” repeats at the close? There are similar layers on ‘Oh Christine,’ far from a loving ode there is more overwhelming sadness on display. Greg is wrapping in blankets but still feeling the cold as he waits for separation tears to start flowing. The crying will start when he has stopped driving but for now the key detail is the “rind from your tangerine still sitting on my dash, speeding down the 1-15 counting cities as they pass. Oh Christine you are free at last.”
‘You Don’t Know What You’re Missing’ revisits a staple of the garage rock lyrical repertoire, the turning away from a good thing song. The pained shrug of the shoulders turning away from the girl who does not know what she wants. The music offers an arm around the shoulder to the narrator, who is certain he will be fine no matter what. It is all in the way Greg sings that title, making it clear that this is a pay-off not an ever-extending olive branch. The man is offering himself up, he is all ears but he cannot tell the object of his affections what she wants, that part is down to her. ‘Make It Up’ kicks the door down with guitar chugging intent and that organ sound that underpins the number is life blood. Again, the tune is tying itself in knots over everyday relationship tribulations. This time though the singer is focuses on making things right, “if I really broke your heart, let me make it up to you!”
After side one closed with ‘Moving And Shaking,’ ‘A Good Life’ is the albums second out-and-out, lush country ballad complete with yearning pedal steel as Greg sings to the simple pleasure of living the life you want rather than the life others would impose. The opening chords of ‘Just Say When,’ so crispy and brown in their semi-acoustic textures, could be trademarked as the sound of Autumn. This is clearly intentional as the opening salvo describes falling leaves and long shadows. It feels on this one like it is a song of retreating into the arms of love, a suggestion enhanced by the dramatic descending keyboard pattern in the chorus which carries a Bond-theme like punch.
‘You Ain’t Me’ has a deceptive sixties pop sheen glossing over a lyric that seems to be wrestling against depression. Greg is trading salvos with a partner, or just himself, to justify his handling of the problem. He argues that you can “cry while you’re laughing” and bats back efforts to pull him out of his despondency. So, if the you, who ain’t me, of the title tries to find a silver lining when waking to find the sun still shining, Greg does not need to know about it. He underlines this with “it’s hard to raise my head, but I’m trying.” Dig deep on that one and it is quite a dark moment, buried away as the penultimate number.
‘On And On’ closes the album with a universal truth though, for while the strains of Country remind the listener of the hurt and loss that is all around in life, the primary lyric states for certain that we can still believe in love if we let ourselves. “Yeah, love is still a choice” sings Greg and I do not take that to mean we can take it or leave it as if a commodity. What he seems to be saying is that love is still the thing that keeps us going, the air that we breathe because ultimately “we’ll still need love to carry on.” That is the thing I keep returning to when listening to perfect garage nuggets like this album, that the best things in life are the simplest and purest. And there are few greater things musically than three-minute pop songs built around electric guitars, bass, organ and drums, recorded with gritty analogue warmth and played with raw feeling. It does not get much better than that.
Find a vinyl copy of The Reigning Sound’s ‘A Little More Time With’ here:
One of the most infectious Jazz based debut records of the year, ‘Yellow’ introduces itself with ever increasing waves of cosmic vibrations on opening track ‘Mercury.’ As a scene setter, this sort of tells the listener all and nothing simultaneously. Yes, you may well deduce that what will follow is going to be something of a spiritual journey, but no way in hell could you be anticipating the explosion of styles, tempos, moods and explorative diversions that are about to unfold. For that reason alone, Emma-Jean Thackray’s debut album deservedly caught lots of attention in 2021; it was a unique calling card, a showcase even, for a jazz artist with no respect for genre and a singular approach that placed her in a scene all her own.
As with so many releases in 2021, the gestation period for the album had occurred around the 2020 lockdown, you remember the one where people really could not go out? Emma-Jean had caught Covid in the summer of 2020 and found that this had negatively impacted her trumpet playing. It left her briefly having to alter her approach, blowing shorter phrases, something that can be heard on the album within some of the modalism and moments of Bop style experimentation. That though is far from the over-riding mood that pumps out of these grooves, there are a myriad of elements here such as the progression in her music displayed in the singing. This is an area in which Emma-Jean admits she had to overcome some hesitancy, eventually rationalizing that Chet Baker had done it so why shouldn’t she? It was a strong move, for the singing here shows a range of modes that you would not expect from one with such initial reticence.
It is in taking these instinctive strides forward musically that Thackray displays a sure footedness and independence. While she does acknowledge her association with the big names of the London Jazz Scene, she does not necessarily belong at around the center of it. She is originally from Yorkshire and in fact grew up playing marching music in a brass band. To this day there remains something of the outsider to Emma-Jean Thackray, a level head and a lack of showboating in her approach to music that sets her apart from the crowd. At the same time however, it cannot be ignored that the sounds she creates and the range of ideas incorporated are truly remarkable. Anyone who has seen her band live has witnessed the astonishing telepathy between her and her bandmates. This has found a way onto the record, released on Emma-Jean’s own label Movementt, by way of live samples woven into the mix. At this stage, those early outsider years around Yorkshire, when her interest in Jazz cast her into a solitary vein, are starting to pay dividends in the shape of a singular talent; time inside your own head can indeed brew an inner determination to follow your own path.
So, the highlights on this LP are many and the opportunities for comparison are plentiful too but Emma-Jean never allows them to submerge her own sound and vision. There is a hint of Alice Coltrane on the track ‘Yellow,’ which begins with an organ sound that is so fruity you can practically taste the juices squeezing out of it. ‘Rahu & Ketu’ is one of several celebratory numbers in tone, a strong element that gives the album its undeniable addictiveness. The out-and-out Funk sections take ‘Yellow’ into delightfully seventies sounding conscious Soul territories. At times, the album is so firmly focused on groove and movement that it crash-lands directly into a distinct house music and modern club feel. Now there is an area of music that so often leaves me disinterested, sounding too much like a genre that has hard locked into formula and abandoned any ambitions to creativity. It is so refreshing to hear new artists, primarily in the jazz world it has to be said, still determined to find ways of injecting these styles with forward momentum.
Emma-Jean Thackray’s net casts wider than most. One of the tracks at the dramatic heart of this LP is ‘Spectre,’ the way it pulls in strands of cinematic tension and teases the listener with mind-bending sci-fi style lyrics is captivating. Therefore, it is unsurprising that Thackray has confessed to being a fan of dystopian science fiction. The video for ‘Say Something’ was based on Logans Run and earlier in 2021 she had explained to Bandcamp about the accompanying video and song that “it starts off quite housey, then there’s a bridge to a different section where the time signature’s different and it’s a lot more raucous”. But having indulged the interviewer with a little insight into one of her passions, she reeled the topic back to the essential detail, the message of the song. “The message is really don’t say things for the sake of it, be real.” You could wholesale lift those sentiments and apply them to Emma-Jean Thackray and this swirling, head-spinning wonder of a debut album. If ever a jazz artist stood tall and firmly, independently, announced that they are the real deal it surely happened here. Setting genre aside because you simply must, ‘Yellow’ is simply one of the finest journeys in music heard in 2021.
As album titles go, ‘Tasjan! Tasjan! Tasjan!’ certainly signposts the listener to what is going on within these grooves. This is the record in which Aaron Lee Tasjan lets his name ring aloud, showing the world what he can do without inhibition. You do not need gently easing in, no sales pitch, no preparation or finding the right time of day. This album is instant, it is Pop music pure and simple. Yes, it is cut with a retro sheen but so what? At this point labelling things this way is becoming redundant because music that sounds this good simply identifies as a classic pop sound. But above and beyond the dressing is the man at the center and for sure, this is the album on which Aaron Lee Tasjan rubber stamps his credentials, showing a singular songwriting talent with an ear for both the left field and the mainstream.
You will first see Aaron’s name show up on a Fruit Tree Records playlist around five years ago when the epic cowboy psych of ‘Little Movies’ caught my ear. That song in particular stood out so firmly that he simply had to remain on my watchlist, it was obvious someone with a rare gift was at work and I needed to be there when a talent like that fully blooms. Well, in 2021 the moment arrived beyond doubt although the only regret was that it happened at a time of worldwide pandemic and lockdowns. This sadly limited the exposure Aaron has enjoyed and surely held back the impact his record could have made last year, for with so many instantly loveable, hit-sounding songs to play he could so easily have grabbed the festival scene by both ears and made a far more ubiquitous presence of himself. That is what this kind of album deserved, the tunes are immediate, you can singalong to them first time if you want but they have subtle layers of depth and playful patterns of mystery sewn in too.
As an artist Aaron Lee Tasjan is multifaceted for sure. His instrumental facility is considerable, a former student of the jazz guitar who has gone on record as stating his favorite all time guitarist is Freddie Green of the Count Basie Orchestra. In his own career he has put these skills to work not only in his capacity as a performer but also production and composition work. At a certain point it seems that Aaron just decided songs were where it was at and so he poured all his creativity into that side of his music. At this stage, his ability to write a great three-minute song is established but as a live performer Aaron also shines. He has flashes of the Elton John about him, see it in those moments of camp flamboyance unleashing a fuzzy guitar solo, there is a sense of the absurd peeking through. In fact, on ‘Tasjan! Tasjan! Tasjan!’ that classic rock star androgyny is played into quite deliberately with lyrics like “broke up with my boyfriend to go out with my girlfriend, cause love is like that.”
In terms of sound, the classic Pop I have referred to is not so much Elton John (although that is in there) but leans towards the jingle-jangle guitar sound pioneered by the Byrds as a starting point. However, that is nothing more than a launchpad. The guitar pop trajectory flies across four or five decades and lands most firmly in the Travelling Wilbury’s and Tom Petty arena. This is accentuated too by the laid back, Laurel Canyon timbre in the Aaron Lee Tasjan voice. His studio craft is evident, the sound is as clean and wide open as those aforementioned acts in the eighties and leaves plenty of space for modern sounding electronic brush strokes to complete the picture, it is a cleverly crafted soundscape.
Underpinning everything, the key to the strength of this album, is the tunes. Aaron is unpretentious in his subject matter; he can tackle a topic with straightforward delivery and find humour in there too. Is ‘Feminine Walk’ a hymn to the difficulties in androgyny and not adopting conventional sexual stereotypes or does Aaron just want to strut around like Jagger and play it for laughs? It is hard to tell, but he delivers the chorus hook of the song with all the seriousness of the Bangles singing about their Egyptian walk. He nonchalantly drops any pretense of analysis on ‘Up All Night,’ shrugging off the rationale of staying up all night with “it could be good, or it could be bad for you” and then settling on “it’s gonna be alright.” On the other hand, ‘Computer Love’ is more a straight ahead put down of living life on the internet; “my little avatar, I’ll never know who you really are.”
Opener ‘Sunday Women’ is a great example of how Aaron can let the music tell most of the story, simply by catching the right feel. The lyrics really only peek from behind the curtain at what is going on, wondering where these Sunday Women are and regretting the lost opportunity to build dreams with one as the singer sits alone with the Monday blues. It is the music that conveys the forlorn sense of longing and dreams unfulfilled. You get the sense that Aaron has really gone all in with this record. He has pulled every lesson learned, all the licks and vibes absorbed and fine tuned within his music with a Blues tilt, a Country inclination and cooked it all up into this fantastic musical melting pot. ‘Tasjan! Tasjan! Tasjan!’ deserved greater recognition for sure but hey, it got made and those that did hear it invariably loved it. Given time, more and more people are going to be shouting the name Aaron Lee Tasjan Tasjan Tasjan!
Search for a vinyl pressing of ‘Tasjan! Tasjan! Tasjan!’ here:
Trying to keep your finger on the pulse of music, if your interests and tastes align to the Fruit Tree Records approach, involves casting your net far and wide. I am engaging daily with radio shows, internet mixes, magazine reviews, online reviews and navigating my way through many streaming platforms; in addition to all that I remain what I have been all my life, a vinyl record collector and crate digger. You would think that all these avenues merge into a well-oiled music finding system but oh no, really there is no such formular and it is the randomness that keeps this journey exciting. What I can tell you is this: stay open minded, do not limit your interests to one genre or era and I guarantee wonderful surprises will come into your life every single day. It really is mind numbing, impossible to comprehend, just how much amazing music is being created every year and even more awe inspiring is just how much made over the past century remains under appreciated. Of course, the opposite holds true as well, but if there were not so much attention seeking dross muscling its way into peoples ears all the time, there would be no thrill or reward in uncovering the good stuff. ‘The Turning Wheel’ by Spellling is one such hidden gem from 2021.
I genuinely cannot recall how I came across Spellling in 2021, I suspect I made a note after hearing something on a radio show or a DJ mix, something like that, which resulted in the album sitting in my ‘things to listen to’ pile earlier in the year. What I can recall exactly, is my incredibly positive reaction to hearing the album. Beyond positive, I was bowled over, left aghast, or high even on the discovery of something so wonderful. An album that seemed to tick so many of the boxes and styles of music I regard as important to me. These were great songs, incredibly strong on melody, heavy on impact and full of earworms that linger on and on. But it was showy too, not so much power ballads but theatrical concept pieces…on ice! I joke of course, but the music was a dizzying melting pot of ideas. Jazzy but not jazz; progressive but not prog, bluesy without a twelve-bar template in sight and there were even hints of the show tune to some of the emoting, but without the teeth and the jazz hands. Impossible to put in a box and yet undeniably fantastic. How could something as brilliant as this fly so far under the radar I wondered? Well, look around and it is not such a rare tale, the business end of the music world rarely values craftsmanship over easily marketable, immediately profitable product. Sometimes it feels like the only winners are us collectors, free to discover these wonders then share them out. But Spellling is hopefully aware that, if nothing else, these are the albums that endure over time. Those unaware of Spellling today that will surely not say the same tomorrow, for the good stuff does tend to rise to the surface eventually.
Spellling is the performing identity of Chrystia Cabral, she released this third album under the name in 2021. Entitled ‘The Turning Wheel,’ it is a mesmerizing song cycle packed with theatricality and magical pop wonder. A double LP well worth investigating on vinyl, the first record is the dreamier and more positive of the two, it has the collective title of ‘Above’ while the more somber, darker tones of the second disc are titled ‘Below.’ The fact that this is an expansive as well as expressive song suite, executing orchestral brush strokes and dynamic punctuation points leads to me recalling Kate Bush. And while this is an entirely worthy comparison, Spellling is an entity with its own unique grain. Cabral’s early influences were not contemporary, she has spoken in the past of how she soaked up the 70s and 80s sounds sourced from family record collections. One primary influence she has acknowledged is Minnie Riperton and there, amongst lush orchestral passages and wide-eyed sense of wonder, is a line towards Riperton’s own ‘Come To My Garden’ LP detectable. It is clearly a psychedelic reference point inside the Spellling mold, but the influences do not dominate at all.
Cabral has not arrived at this third album new to ambitious composition ideas but previously her tools were limited to electronics and synths. This time, with over thirty orchestral musicians at her disposal as well as a little extra lockdown time to develop ideas further, she has fine-tuned her vision into something incredible. It feels to me like there was a certain point in her career when she realized you do not need to follow a previously walked path, just being open to her own ideas and seeing where they lead would be enough. ‘The Turning Wheel’ seems like both a culmination and a definitive justification for following that instinct. It is a stunning achievement that I hope attracts the large audience it deserves. The albums stands as an elegant concept piece concerning life, life cycles, death, our hopes for the future, our fears and the constantly evolving nature of reality. A song like ‘Emperor With An Egg’ pulls at all those tensions while ‘Magic Act,’ a centerpiece on the darker second disc, simmers like a heavy thunderstorm forming in the distance.
Despite my having begun to pick out song highlights at this stage of the review, I must state that this is one of those records that must be sampled as a whole. That is how it has been constructed even though the songs are all melodically rich enough to stand alone as individual tracks. And while many of the lyrical themes like love and true friendship, as sung about on the title track, are touched upon abstractly, Cabral can flick the switch and sting the listener with something direct and forthright. ‘Boys At School’ is one example of this, with an unfiltered lyric dramatically singing about adolescent trauma. Overall, though, the shimmering lyrical twists and the boundless musical turns must be experienced firsthand. Which is exactly why I am flagging ‘The Turning Wheel’ as one of the outstanding albums of 2021. This is one for people who really love to lock in, listen and engage; the rewards inside these grooves are many.
Whether as a featured vocalist for Massive Attack or front woman to the Americana outfit Phantom Limb, Yola Carter has been a low-key presence on the music scene for a couple of decades now. The impression you get now that she has fully burst onto the scene is that in those years, she quietly readied herself for the spotlight and always held a little something back for the day it arrived. How else do you explain a full force gale like this? She does not come across like a singer who naturally sits in the background, this is a woman with a commanding authority when she grabs the microphone and a hard-to-dent conviction in the words she imparts. She shouts without bawling, it is a no bullshit approach, the kind that only comes from a true voice with a vision singing from the heart. And even though this is in fact her second solo LP release, I find myself comparing it to something like the first George Harrison solo album. It is that magical moment when an artist who has previously jostled to find their space, finally finds a footing, turns on the tap and watches the music come flooding on down.
I stop short of calling ‘Stand For Myself’ one of the outstanding Soul albums of 2021 because, musically, it is so much more than that. Yola has explained in interviews how she simply grew up loving music; music that she heard on the radio, music she found in her mother’s record collection, whatever spoke to her emotionally she soaked it all up. It has resulted in this, an album that is a mesmerizing mixture of all her influences but not exactly like any of them. In doing so she has created that rare thing that not all artists can effectively realize; her own sound, this record introduces to the world the Yola sound. Impossible to pigeonhole and undeniably belonging to nobody else.
Her solo work truly began in 2019 with the Dan Auerbach produced ‘Walk Through Fire’. I did pay a little bit of attention to that album, mainly because something in the way it was marketed and in Yola’s image caught my attention, it looked like the kind of rootsy soul record I would be into. And it was indeed a good piece, but it did not register in the album of the year stakes or anything like that, maybe it lacked the unique identity so prevalent on this follow up? The Black Keys Auerbach has produced once more, but this time Yola’s own personality is a lot more visible. The creative period of lockdown facilitated this a little, affording the artist time to work out what she really wanted to do with her music. The array of collaborators and writing partners have also opened the possibilities. In addition to the producer there is also Natalie Hemby from the Highwomen, Ruby Amanfu who has performed in the backing singer department for Jack White as well as the quietly brilliant pop master Aaron Lee Tasjan.
The tune Tasjan contributed to, ‘Diamond Studded Shoes,’ is an early album stand out. As a rousing song it is shot with a rare realism. It is very much a call to arms in sound and style yet in anticipating if things would turn out right it emphatically answers, “we know it isn’t, we know it isn’t.” That alone typifies an underlying motivation throughout, in that Yola has viewed this album as a chance to get real, a chance to unleash the soul power at the heart of what she does while simultaneously refraining from presenting things in a one-dimensional way. Musically this leaves the door open for a multitude of influences to reveal themselves. Among the tracks there is everything from Brill Building pop craft, Sister Rosetta Tharpe style electric gospel, Black Keys riffage, Philadelphia soul lushness and even a hint of Freedom Singers folk protest poking through. Lyrically, what has poured onto the page is social, political, personal, lived and learned street wisdom. She is not just going to blindly say everything is going to be OK when she knows better but do not deny her right to hope for improvements and to stand up and fight for her beliefs.
Any album where claims for ‘best of the year’ status are made should, as a baseline requirement, be without any weak tracks or filler. ‘Stand For Myself’ definitively fits those criteria, from start to finish the songwriting standard is high and the range of emotional textures visited upon are dizzying. ‘Dancing Away In Tears’ is arguable the records smoothest soul moment, it has late night pop classic written all over it. By contrast to that tunes widescreen production, ‘If I Had To Do It All Again’ leaves sonic space for the catchy melody to breathe. The rhythm stutters, the bassline punches while the guitar executes savage knife slices, the effect is both dramatic and cool. ‘Whatever You Want’ has one of those low-hanging-fruit kind of melodies that sounds like it has been around forever. That fact alone invests the song with a self-assured strut. Finally, title track ‘Stand For Myself’ has undeniable sunrise chord progressions. It makes for music that incredibly evokes light overwhelming the darkness as Yola testifies “I used to feel nothing like you, now I’m alive, I’m alive!” For real!
As Declan O’Rourke released ‘Arrivals’ in the early part of 2021 the talk was all about how this would finally be his moment. After two decades of being the songwriter’s songwriter, this well-kept secret would finally start to enjoy the recognition he so richly deserved. Ah, predictions very rarely pan out in such a straightforward fashion, in fact as we enter 2022 the side to Declan’s creative output that is enjoying newfound time in the spotlight is his prose writing. He had spent a prolonged period of the lockdown completing his first ever novel, a fact-based fiction called ‘The Pawn Brokers Record.’ Set in a six-month period during the 1845-1848 Irish Famine, O’Rourke had disciplined himself to writing at his desk for six-hour sessions, seven days a week. And in terms of success and exposure, the end product saw his book appear at number four in the best sellers lists on the first week of publication.
Those bold predictions of success and recognition for the album were largely based on the name of the producer, Paul Weller. It always did look a bit fanciful to suggest that fact alone would see the waves of appreciation arrive at Declan’s door. If there is one thing Weller has always done consistently throughout his career, it is respecting the soul of any music with which he is involved. He is not going to muscle in with his own voice and sound trying to make this sound like a Weller record, he has too much class for that kind of stunt. But he did do a fantastic job on production; if the producer’s role is to tap into the essence of an artist and facilitate the realization of that performers sound on vinyl, then he did exactly what was required. Yes, Weller is there on the back cover, regularly cropping up in the song credits on either guitar, piano and harmonium and he also brings in a collaborator of his own in Hannah Peel on gorgeous string arrangements. But the stars of this show are O’Rourke, his weather battered Irish voice, his dexterous guitar playing and those wonderful character driven songs.
Weller’s own connection with O’Rourke began way back with his appreciation of the man’s earlier work, especially the song ‘Galileo’ which the senior Mod went on record describing as the only song he wished he had written in the last thirty years. The story goes that the producer wanted to hear the songs before committing to proceed but you have to say, it would be a shock if he had declined on compositions like these. ‘Arrivals’ is a collection of songs that sees Declan often looking inward, examining his relationship with his craft and his place in a creative industry. He appears to be explicitly addressing this on opener ‘In Painter’s Light’ and yet, as often happens on this LP, the song expands into a broader meditation on the purity of dreams, how the things you hold close to your heart can be so easily crushed when life does not always line up with your inner plans.
Wider topics are written about with equal aplomb, take ‘Convict Ways’ and it’s definite depiction of transport ships moving convicts over to Australia. The song does not merely settle on dry description, it states that progress has not moved far enough away from the days of “being slaves without the name of slaves.” And ‘Have You Not Heard The War Is Over’ may just be one of the finest anti-war folk songs ever written. Not simply because of the way Declan precisely deconstructs the many shady positions that justified past conflicts in the first place, nor for the undeniable way he puts humanitarianism at the forefront of his position. No, it is also because this song has a damn fine folk chorus that can be sung along with instantly and stays in the musical part of your brain long after the album is over.
‘Andy Sells Coke’ begins as a critical, advisory take down of a delusional character dealing to fund his own drug habit. Again though, the song turns inward to focus on the singer himself passed out in a chair when he should have long since grown out of that kind of behavior. “I’m too old in the tooth to be round this shit” the number concludes. O’Rourke often arrives at the core of a song in the moment when his lyric writing turns in on himself. ‘The Harbour’ might seem like a straight-ahead tale of an old gardener and an introspective tiler and the life lessons they have acquired along the way. Still once more, the writer looms into view, recognizing in himself a hunger and desperation to uncork the inner heart and soul of all he encounters to feed into his own creativity. Imagining himself in turbulent waters, where “every wind has a tail,” the singer longs for the relative sanctuary of the harbour. Well, with ‘Arrivals,’ every song really does have a tale and they are all performed by an honest craftsman taking his work seriously and investing with all the passion and feeling it demands. This is a fine piece of folk, singer-songwriter work that could not have been better executed and easily one of the finest we heard in this form during 2021.
In 2022 the plan is for The Coral to be celebrating the 20th anniversary of their classic self titled debut album. If you were following back in 2002, you will recall that an exciting new wave of sixties style garage rock and flowery UK psychedelia had arrived. The White Stripes headed the charge in the US with similarly rough edged yet tuneful ripples washing in from acts like The Von Bondies and Sweden’s The Hives among many others. Meanwhile in the UK, from out of nowhere, a group of freakbeat inspired scousers called, perfectly, The Coral came crashing in with full force gale impact. A hit single helped announce the arrival, ‘Dreaming Of You’ was a worthy occupant of the hit parade (despite its relevance fast fading by then) but that album was a genuine surprise. To this day ‘The Coral’ remains a vital explosion of classic Liverpudlian songwriting spilling over with riffs, hooks, sea-shanties, Barrett-esque whimsy and a spirit of anything goes freedom. I remember well in 2002 veteran psych-heads urging me to find them a vinyl copy to sit on their shelves alongside their original ‘S.F. Sorrow’, ‘Village Green’ and ‘Ogden’s’ albums. A fair shout too, this is the lineage in which the Coral belonged.
Jump forward to 2021 and ‘Coral Island’ finds the band still very much existing in this same space. But do not let that imply they have not moved forward, the very nature of this music is open minded and explorative, the idea that a group could still be doing this so well and simultaneously be low on ideas does not add up. To be this exceptional at the style is no small achievement. If you want to hear a modern band enthralled by the sounds of sixties psychedelia and garage rock, there are no shortage. Just go and read one of the specialist publications available and pick from the many four star, afraid to offend, reviews you find there and fill your sandals. The problem is just mastering the production and the sound is not enough without the songs and original ideas; for me there are too many I hear nailing their perfect 1967 mellotron photocopies without bothering to write anything worth listening to. That is where The Coral are a class above with double LP ‘Coral Island’ being, when stripped back, a lesson in modern Merseybeat songwriting. Beneath that style lies a lot of substance.
James Skelly remains at the centre of the band’s compositional hub, although the credits also pull in valuable contributions from Nick Power, Paul Duffy, Richard Turvey, Ian Skelly and Paul Molloy. James cannot deny his natural ear for a juicy melodic tune, and he has shown few signs of losing touch with this for two decades now. It should not be underestimated what a rarity it is for a band to be still producing music that nestles easily among their best work after twenty years. Few last that long anyway but of those that do, I am struggling to think of too many. I do not believe any revisionist attempts to suggest the Rolling Stones made anything close to their best work in the early 1980s, I could make an argument on behalf of R.E.M. in 2001 and a little beyond but it is rare achievement in long running groups. Twenty years is a big ask for any band to continue functioning creatively, let alone make a record like this.
‘Coral Island’ is structured in two thematic parts, firstly ‘Welcome to Coral Island’ and then ‘The Ghost Of Coral Island.’ The first presents the island as a helter-skelter, timeless, seaside arena with a dizzying cast of 20th century characters. The second half dives headlong into the lives of those occupants, peering into the kaleidoscope of their mind’s eyes. There is between song narration courtesy of James and Ian Skelly’s grandad Ian Murray. This does give the whole record a feel of the classic late sixties concept album, which was clearly intentional but there is another truth about those post ‘Sgt Pepper’ records, including ‘Pepper’ itself, that must not be lost; the concept is merely a framework on which to hang a collection of songs.
Tasteful homages to the sonic echoes of mid-century pop music frequently jump forth. Catch that twangy guitar break on ‘My Best Friend,’ the oh-so achingly gorgeous mellotron sound of ‘Autumn Has Come’ or even the tacky pub piano featured on ‘The Calico Girl.’ Still, I always come back to admiring the roots, those classy songs and that James Skelly knack of making every tune so instantly listenable. And look beyond the Coral Island idea to see that these are still just timeless human heartbeat tracks at their core. The longing that you feel in ‘Change Your Mind’ is universal, as is the warmth expressed on ‘My Best Friend.’ In fact, there are at least eight songs here that legitimately rank amongst The Coral’s greatest work, while the remainder are in no way filler or lesser constructs. To put it in the plainest terms possible, there is not a weak link on this entire double album. I will put my cards on the table and admit that sixties flavored psych-pop and rock is something of a sweet spot for me, but you hear so many copyists doing it badly these days. Too many pay more attention to perfecting their authentic sounding flange effects and sourcing the correct type of floral kipper ties than they do writing decent songs and music. When a band like The Coral pay the form the respect it deserves, the seriousness of approach pays out with the end product. In the case of ‘Coral Island,’ the band have created a double LP that is swirling with wild, timeless, colourful, audio magic from beginning to end.
Search for a vinyl pressing of ‘Coral Island’ here:
Fruit Tree Records 