Simpson unplugged, and uncompromising as ever, shows no signs of slowing down.

Release Date: 12th April 2024

Label: Topic

Format: CD / vinyl / digital

Is Simpson now the hardest working man in showbiz? It certainly feels that way, he clearly averse to any putting up of his feet, not least since the discovery of his electric muse in Anglo-Scots folk-rock behemoth, The Magpie Arc. Indeed, if anything, he is now pumping out sufficient acoustic fare to more than satisfy any electric naysayer out there, as well as, hopefully, to please his bank manager. Not to say all of those who can’t get enough of anything he applies his nimble fingers to. Cap duly doffed, this album, which, on the CD version, comes as a double, can now join the 25 odd solo discs, the innumerable collaborations and the brace of Gibson SG fuelled “Arc” welds. No stranger to these pages (a ‘Simpson’ search reveals a healthy collection), we here at ATB like him!

The story is reasonably well known, as to the genesis of this project, it being initiated by the take no prisoners environmentalism of Chris Packham, who commissioned the title piece for the purposes of Hen Harrier Day. (Read about that here.) That is the title track, with the rest filled out by a mix of songs, mainly old and learnt from either “the tradition” or from musical associates, with a couple of new for good measure. See if you can spot the difference, they all being filtered through the Simpson filter of complex fingerwork and his increasingly endearing rusty hinge of a voice. The second disc, where applicable, is a live selection, equally varied, some getting a Simpson revisiting.

The “home” disc, if you will, opens with Skydancers itself, the interesting snippet, included in the accompanying info, that no less than Richard Hawley had come up with the first line of the chorus, both being proud sons of the city of steel. And neighbours. I like that! And I like the song, it starting with some characteristic picking swirls, before Simpson’s sandy vocal hoves into ear. The lyric is a musing on the sight and sounds of birdlife, reflecting on their disappearance: “there are no dancers in the sky“. Guitars are met with what sounds like a string section, maybe just fiddle and cello, but is, in fact, Liz Hanks and her cello alone, displaying just quite what a range she ekes out of her instrument. The second guitar, rather than double tracking, is that of the estimable Louis Campbell. The tune? Well, let’s say it has a tang of Simpsonian familiarity, but the performance and content swift shifts that thought. Or, indeed, any criticism.

New Harmony is one of those whimsical front porch musings type songs that inhabited the American midwar midwest, and Simpson imbues it with appropriate world-weariness. Hanks is again on hand for strings to ramp up the emotive aspect, as is Greg Leisz, the pedal steel supremo. As his instrument wafts in, all feels very well with the world, with harmony vocals seeping in from Rosie Hood and Amy Newhouse. Leisz has played with so many giants of the guitar world, from Bill Frisell to Jorma Kaukonen, naming but two from within his ridiculous discography; I think Simpson a more than worthy tick in his boxes.

It is the English tradition up next, to display the equivalent ease with which Simpson swaps Atlantic sides. Alan Tyne Of Harrow is a “gallows autobiography”, culled from the singing of Peter Bellamy. The pump of Andy Cutting’s diatonic accordion, paired with Hanks, gives a bouncy bed for Simpsons bold narrative, the song and style familiar, the accompaniment giving a sense of greater orchestration. Back to the US and the mid 20’s for Tom Sherman’s Barroom, Simpson now employing his 5 string banjo. A lament much in the thematic style of many a British broadside, were cowboys, gay or otherwise, part of such tapestry, and it tells a daunting tale that mixes the language of the time with the meanings of today. It is all rather moving.

Lowlands/Billy Walker pairs a solo guitar instrumental, with a song about the eponymous black American who became a celebrated member of the UK navy, ahead of falling from grace, physically and socially. Cello adds some doleful colouring as Walker slides down the societal gutter. It’s a grand song, and one to join the widening roster of songs around and about a black England, thinking both of recent albums by Angeline Morrison and Reg Meuross. An unaccompanied chorus, from the assorted roster of background voices completes the necessary gravity. In need of uplift, it comes with a jolly banjo instrumental, Roger’s Cascade that the palate is duly cleansed.

Long time cohort, Nancy Kerr, most recently, and currently, with him in The Magpie Arc, supplies Fragile Water, a retelling and re-visioning of the Selkie Of Sule Skerrie. The delicate nature of the melody is enhanced by the inherent frailty in his tones. Hanks is, again, impeccable. Cutting is back for the more upbeat and hymnal Cherry Tree Carol, if envisioned by someone with an eye on inclusion the Child ballads. (Ed. It is a Child ballad, number 54!) It makes for an elegant diversion on the more usually received Christmas story. Simpson pads it out with a few additionally sourced verses; might that he had not, as it is a rare moment of dragging in this set.

Woody Guthrie’s Deportee gets an unexpected place up next. Unexpected? Less so, as Simpson explains, in his song by song notes, its redolence to the present day: “the evermore scurrilous and divisive misgovernment of the last thirteen years”. If his rendition is stark and matter of fact, the backing vocals are pegged in to add some humanity to the dehumanization of the situation that was allowed to happen. Leisz adds some typical curls of steel, neatly emphasising to which side of the border the fated plane was heading. Finally, as if to both capture and settle the mood, it is with the slow Irish air, Donal Og, that Simpson ends this disc. Instrumental, all the extraneous taps, squeaks, groans and clicks of Simpson’s guitar are captured. (Play it again, Mart!)

It seems harsh to point out the riches available on the 2nd disc, should you accede to the vinyl revival, this being unavailable in that edition. But I will, nonetheless, it containing a further eight tracks, largely captured live at various shows around the country, often versions and variations of material covered before. Leaves Of Life, the title track of his US release of the same name, features his beautiful slide playing, with, this time, added voice. It is a haunting version. Yew Piney Mountains comes from the same Craig Johnson responsible for New Harmony on the first disc, and fits snugly into Simpson’s style and repertoire.

Call me Judas, but I don’t like Dylan’s Buckets Of Rain. The ragtime rendition here could have me reconsidering that, however, the delivery channeling Chris Smither. Marvellous. Then, clearly having heard my earlier plea, lo and behold, here then comes Donal Og back again. More delicious slide in this performance, and, sky black with hats, it is the vocal version. And, despite Ridgeway being a fairly new song, 2017, this is justified by performance having bedded it better, his words, into his playing. Certainly his fingers seem assuredly comfortable here, the tenor of the song also apt in relation to the title track, with similar themes expressed.

In The Pines has long been a staple of the live set, since he revived this 1926 song, and offers yet a further masterclass in his slide technique, should you not already know or have been convinced. To follow, a pleasing bonus is the presence of, possibly a ‘signature tune’, Flash Company, so recently reprised on the recent Ben Nicholls album, Duets, reviewed here. Here, even without that bass scaffolding, it remains a reliably robust song, never failing to raise a wry smile. As do his liner notes, which suggest he is still only practicing it. (At which point, I am reminded, disc one also includes contributions from Mr Nicholls, his skill so often that of slotting in seamlessly, an integral part of the whole without drawing undue attention,)

Disc two signs off with a bit of Joni, namely Cactus Tree, his vocal stretched, understandably, to breaking point, yet losing none of the song’s value, and a humble way to close this half this project. Yes, this is an addendum, an extra, which may not have stood so tall in isolation, but as a contrast and compare of studio and stage, it is well worth it. Vinyl junkies, check you stil have access to that old CD player you ceased to love. You’ll thank me.

Skydancers, the song:

Martin Simpson online : Website / Facebook / X (formerly Twitter) / Instagram

Keep up with At The Barrier: Facebook / X (formerly Twitter) / Instagram / Spotify / YouTube