10 years of Celtic folk for this? I don’t see why not; Badcock goes pop with gusto and charm.

Release Date: 3rd May 2024

Label: Self-Released

Format: CD / vinyll / digital

So you have form, and have led a successful Celtic folk band for 10 years, why now a solo album? Various reasons, I guess, the the one that here seems most likely is the sheer amount of material that must build up, not always appropriate and applicable to the day job, with musical itches in other genres needing a good old scratch. Which isn’t to say there isn’t an ounce of traditionally influenced folk within the grooves of this first long player by the Dallahan frontman. but there is a whole lot more too, as evidenced by the range and number of accompanists that join him for this record. (Intriguingly, and rather than ominously, the robots that choose the genre identification, on inserting CD into player, come up with Pop.) There has been solo material before, an EP, well received in 2021, perhaps the impetus for this further and not unawaited unfurling.

Clearly not a man for small talk, the album starts with a treatise on the meaning of life. Or, at least, finding that meaning. In three parts, Life In Three Dimensions, it immediately sets out a stall quite dissimilar to Dallahan. With piano and acousic guitar picking out notes, over which play soaring strings. As Badcock’s clarion clear tenor chimes in, it is the music of a ’60s into ’70s I am hearing, being reminded of the more melodious end of early King Crimson: Epitaph, I Talk To The Wind, or the Moody Blues perhaps. But somehow still sounding contemporary to today, maybe via the arrangement, which has pedal steel snucking in alongside the orchestrated violins. A surprising finding, it is a strong opening. With female voices to back him at key moments, the songs moves from the introductory World Of Worlds into the slightly more forwardly propulsive Remind Me To Breathe, drums to the fore, with strummed acoustic and piano the bones of the arrangement. The Scottish inflections in this Irish born, Yorkshire raised and now Glasgow domiciled artist are appealing, a piano interlude then ushering in the final part of the triad, All These Moments. His tone positively plangent, the mood has slipped to a more declamatory modern folk, whatever that is.

As you pause to let that all soak in, The English Samurai catches you out with a slinky fiddle and rhythm section straight from an upmarket jazz or blues club. It is a historical song, and in a different, very different voice, it could be a Mark Knopfler song, he another writer who takes inspiration from the past. It is based on the story of William Adams, the first Englishman to reach Japan, four and a quarter centuries ago. Time to identify the players, it is Louis Abbott on drums, fast becoming Scotland’s busiest percussionist, and Euan Burton, who also produces, on bass. The snaking fiddle comes from Roo Geddes, the piano Tom Gibbs. The guitars are credited to Badcock, as is additional piano. Here, Gibbs adds some glorious Fender Rhodes, duelling with Geddes. Two songs in, two good ‘uns.

Too Many Things is a more leisurely meander of a song, its subject matter, of musicianly excesses, belyng the gentle sway of a melody. Badcock’s guitar is the masterful basis from which the song flows. “There are too many things I don’t need in my pocket“, he sings, contributing to quite a sobering listen, should you get beneath the pining vocal delivery. Conor Smith, the steel player is back for this one, as are a massed choir of Glasgow’s great and good: Siobhan Miller, Beth Malcolm, Josie Duncan and Man of the Minch, naming just four of them. Lustrous stuff, as is Agape Mou, a flickery love song, bedecked with piano, strings and some gently billowing steel. Badcock demonstrates his near perfect pitch, having me wonder how I missed this in his folkier fare.

The Ruin opens another history book: “Oh the ruin is alive and well, though she’s quiet now, with time to dwell.” The core band of Abbott, Burton, Geddes and Gibbs continue to abet, and it is thoughtful song, lingering both in melody and mood. Some rippling water introduces Venus Was Adorned, before emphatic piano announces a solid basis for Badcock to sing of any single person’s insignificance in the might of the universe. With that realisation registered by his being in a small boat on the Amazon at night, it captures that essence well, Smith again excelling in the middle eight. A serious song that loses nothing by being so, ending with the creak of the aforesaid boat.

Something lighter after that? The Ghost of Leland Birch provides that, a country tinged piano tune that, again with a different voice, might call Randy Newman to mind. That point is further cemented by a clarinet solo from Gibbs. Actually a poem written by his cousin, Michael Creagh, in honour of a fabled Rathdowney poitin maker, its manner is more redolent of the prohibition era U.S. James Taylor could do cracking version of it, their voices, bar chosen range, carrying a similar timbre. Deep In The Hills then steps back towards a maudlin melancholy, perhaps beginning, just, to over-egg this part of Badcock’s palette.

That in mind, How To Raise A Child seems a little too ominous a title, but is far from that, being a condemnation on those who, broadly, choose to do otherwise, aimed at policy makers rather than parents. It has a musical memory of Peter Gabriel’s Book Of Love, if with a much more damning narrative. It is possibly the go to track for the album, with little more than guitar or voice, until the Glasgow chorale clamour in, the emotion and emotiveness palpable. It would be a good place to end an album for anyone without the rounded experience of Badcock, who follows it with the light and frothy Entropy, almost a disco yacht-rock hybrid, with Geddes’ fiddle especially louche. Exactly the song to play to anyone who might protest they don’t like pop music, as well as revealing the ‘bot was right!

Don’t expect this to sound much like Dallahan. But you might want to hear more of it.

Here’s The Ghost Of Leland Birch:

Jack Badcock online: Website / Facebook / Instagram

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