The South, um, the East, is gonna rise again! Vibrant East Angliana from Norwich.

Release Date: 19th January 2024

Label: Loose Records

Format: CD/vinyl

Is this going to be the year of UK country music (redux)? Lets’s just skip the Americana handle, shall we, as, however which way you try and deny, this is country music, country-rock even, and definitely not and western, either. That ‘A’ word just makes it smack of novelty and oddness. At least apropos British bands and artists. We’ve been cranking out this sort of music for aeons over here, but every so often the heavens collide as to bring a whole bunch at once. I guess it was back in the days of the good old Rockingbirds that last such hope was held so high, but with, currently, relative old hands like Hanging Stars and Dean Owens riding high in their saddles, and the likes of Roseanne Reid, Demi Marriner and Our Man In The Field bubbling over and into wider recognition, now let’s swiftly add this lot to the roster.

Brown Horse is a six-piece from Norwich, the adoptive home of UK country music, what with Maverick Festival and the like, growing out from an original four piece. The first thing that strikes the ear is the vocal of the lead singer, as in quite who the singer may be. Pictures of the band reveal four men and two women, and I note, without irony, most of any earlier features on the band fail to mention who does quite what, diplomatically missing out that key point. As does their own social media presence. Uncertain if deliberate, but it certainly adds to the mystique, as you grapple with that quandary, but it is actually the voice of Patrick Turner, and he plays also guitar and fiddle. It is a slurred and smeared instrument, with a register midway between Mary Gaulthier and Iris DeMent, OK, with a whisper too of Ian Felice, and is quite something, as it resonates between the myriad layers of instrumentation. So, for sure, you gets your guitar, bass and drums, but the other five members also provide organ, piano, accordion, banjo and steel. Plus a whole lot more vocals of the backing variety. Altogether the sound is a rich evocation of sepia tinted photos from the old west; think maybe the Band as a reference point, with guest vocals, but with a whole lot of Burritos on the side.

Stealin’ Horses, first out, is the ideal introduction, a song that references another, ahead of firing off in a whole different direction. It’s a listening to the radio song. And you can be sure Jimmie Rodgers never done it quite like this; it’s his Muleskinner Blues, by the way, that gets the reference, along with a few lifted lines. Opening with an elegant guitar motif and Neil Young Harvest-style drums, there is a moan of distant lap steel as Turner breaks into his battered croon, a banjo beginning a slow plunk in the background. Building gradually, an accordion is swelling somewhere in there, and electric guitar chops out a measured and pretty solo. A mesmerising start.

Some back porch guitar picking and the low howl of steel introduces the title track, a mournful treatise on being alone and the invasive thought patterns that can intrude. It’s true the lyrics can be hard to discern, but the mood says it all, that feel dripping over into Shootback, a slow-moving chug that nails the Robbie Robertson style construction skills in the band. The quiet hum of Hammond is a reassuring beacon. Then you’d be forgiven for thinking Everlasting for being some prime doom from the tomb folk-rock, were it not the tinkle of barroom ivories; a masterful song with a looming build that reinforces the realisation these guys are for real.

With songs jointly credited, it seems four of them write the songs, managing each to capture a similar snapshot of fading grandeur, of individuals up against the wall, confronting similar demons. A title like Bloodstain seems fully expected, the track itself a swirly maelstrom, a half-speed hurricane. I’m loving this. Some walking bass gives some distraction from the raggedy andy guitars, with a staggering drip dry close to it. The rather more trad country of Paul Gilley follows, a hint of Jolene as it opens, a little accordion sweetening the flavour. Gilley? A lost name from the annals, an uncredited collaborator of Hank Williams, possibly more responsible for some of Hank’s classics than history has remembered. Dying even earlier than Hank didn’t help. This track features the perfect duet harmony vocal of Phoebe Troup, the sextet’s newest member. Rowan Braham is busy on this one, providing both the accordion and scattered piano.

Sunfisher is the first song to feature fiddle, adding a maudlin contrast to the guitars as they sear and scorch. By now the vocals seem, well, just normal, and perfect for the widescreen long shot focus of the material. Silver Bullet delivers exactly as it should promise, right from the shuddery start. I am reminded here of The Outlaws, Hughie Thomasson’s Floridian band of the 1970s, both for the style and the fiery guitar. It is Nyle Houlihan, by the way, who wields that guitar. Just the sort of song title that the band would have relished too. Outtakes might be less of a barnstormer, with Braham’s accordion the backbone again, but maintains the sturdy solidity of songwriting. Ben Auld’s drums and Emma Tovell’s bass continue to provide the Molina/Talbot engine room, with Tovell the provider also of some of the banjo and steel everywhere. (Luckily, in the live setting, Houlihan can pick up the bass duties, as well as being handy himself on the banjo.)

To end, befittingly, is the dusky sundown of Called Away, a song of reflection, allowing just that. Tovell’s banjo is central in the mix. A simpler song, it is the perfect end to an album the band can and should be well proud of. They hit the road in the next month or so, and I would be surprised if they don’t end up somewhere in the field at Black Deer’s increasing festival footprint. Or maybe even a headliner at Maverick?

Here’s Sunfisher, from the album, and, to boot, with spurs, the single:

Brown Horse online: website / facebook / Instagram

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