There are certain artists for whom their USP is nothing more attention grabbing than they are excellent musicians, singers and writers simply getting on with the job of refining and honouring their craft. John Craigie is all three of the above and without hitting anyone over the head with gimmicks, he continues to amass a following thanks to just being very, very good at what he does. Today that means nine critically lauded studio albums, three live recordings and a series of covers collections, including 2025’s ‘Lonely Revolver,’ a full-show rendition of The Beatles’ ‘Revolver’ which he engagingly (sgt) peppers with history, and stories told between each beloved song. Craigie’s music resonates far beyond the studio, with sold-out solo and full-band tours across the North America, Europe, and Australia, show-stopping performances at annual gatherings like Newport Folk Festival, Pickathon, Edmonton Folk Festival, and High Sierra Music Festival. With this latest record of new material already available, the news is good for John remains indisputably on the same evolving role we have enjoyed over the last decade and if I tell you ‘I Swam Here’ is a more reflective offering than before, fear not; this is mindfulness that loses none of Craigie’s trademark panache. Recording sessions took in an initial batch of sessions in New Orleans where John played a nylon stringed acoustic guitar as his lead instrument for the first time on record. It appears that, with the tone established from the outset, the singer and his musician pals were able to follow through and realise the creation of a John Craigie album like no other.

The album enters with the gentle picking of ‘Mermaid Weather’ and you immediately feel like handing over the wheel to this audio captain. It may well be minimal and the verses breeze in like gentle waves, but there in those decorative little flourishes, the brush strokes of percussion that somehow coast with purpose and the bar-room piano fills which quietly rain down like pure water, are the flashes of transmutation that elevate Craigie’s music from mere anecdotal confession into the realms of majestic. ‘Fire Season’ has the hazy lilt once mastered by Beachwood Sparks and indeed the fire of the title is felt in that Laurel Canyon style warmth of the music. This was one of the earliest pieces written for the album and its themes of perseverance and dedication to craftsmanship were clearly followed up on from this launch pad. In fact, much like Bob Dylan’s ‘Blood On The Tracks,’ where much of the album was re-recorded in a second round of sessions because the singer did not feel the materials essence had been captured first time around, so too did John have to take another run at some songs on ‘I Swam Here.’

The man himself explains that “there were two separate recording sessions in two separate locations with different musicians. This is because after New Orleans, three of the ten songs did not meet my vision, and it was not realistic to get back to New Orleans to re-record based on everyone’s schedule. The intention in the mixing is to not have the listener able to tell which ones were recorded where; but it’s possible some attentive ears will be able to.” On ‘Whispers’ John, as a soft harmonium sound anchors his freefall at the close, cascades to the refrain “I’ll follow your whispers all the way down” before a cymbal wash snuffs out the light. ‘Edna Strange’ has the wild frontier echo of a spaghetti western and it is here, on a Marty Robbins inspired song, that John’s vintage guitar sound really feels like the optimum choice of expressive instrument. The words are mighty fine too, stand out lines in this particular story song including the pin-sharp, “she wore no wedding ring, but I wasn’t blind, I saw the mark where it’d been.”

I have been a fan of Craigie’s for a few years now and one aspect of his work in which he excelled was a rich, dry and witty, finely honed lyrical bent that had more than a hint of prime Dylan about it. On this record though the Bob comparisons are not served up quite so readily but, if you consider how Craigie has co-ordinated a wholesale style and tone shift for this record whilst remaining unmistakable himself, then maybe that is the biggest proof of a Zimmerman-like pedigree of all. ‘Dry Land’ points a finger of blame in the direction of terra firma as the breezy music looks to the sea under a sky alive with ringing pedal steels and melodic keys. The uniformity of sound continues on ‘Call Me A Bullet,’ this one growing irresistibly into its undeniable refrain. ‘Claws’ is a slight departure, the muddy guitar sound and general swampy vibe recalling some of Daniel Lanois’ production work from thirty odd years ago. ‘Mama I Should Call’ plays service to some classic country ballad tropes, including the satisfying counterbalance of a male-female joint vocal in the chorus parts, but that Mexican shuffle is pretty special too. Penultimate ‘I Remember Nothing’ is a glorious tumble into echoey climes crashlanding into ‘Don’t Let Me Run Away,’ where John sounds like he is singing from the bottom of a valley, mournful wind instrumentation evoking a nostalgic reverie and the shuffling brushes of the rhythm suggesting our man has wandered off into the sunset. Hope within this forlorn close can be found there in the title; John may have drifted out for a season of meditation, but his spirit remains, and he will return to carry this journey ever onwards; and long may he continue to do just that as I am very much on this deep, musically thrilling ride too.

Danny Neill

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