Rich and sparse in equal measure, Sam Carter takes a beautiful rod to himself, producing some of his best music yet.

Release Date: 16th August 2024

Label: Captain Records

Format: CD / vinyl ( in black, as well as a bandcamp exclusive limited edition orange disc) / digital

“the finest English-style finger-picking guitarist of his generation“

Sam Carter has a steady pair of hands, is a decent guitarist and a good singer, with a solid back catalogue behind him, both solo and in other ventures, the band False Lights one such notable. We have a lot of such artists, all one step away from a wider breakthrough. This may just possibly be his, and is keenly deserved. With four previous studio albums under his belt, as well as EPs and live outings, he has paid his dues, earning accolades aplenty: “the finest English-style finger-picking guitarist of his generation.” says Jon Boden, and, given he is a relative youngster, that means now.

Is this folk music, then? Disregarding the Louis Armstrong opinion, broadly not, being more a set of songs that draw on a palette of grown up pop music, wafts of AOR and Americana creeping into a distinctly English sentience, which is so self-aware as to never become sentimental. Nowhere near, in fact. At the heart of it is his voice, an elastic vessel that veers between steel and gossamer, anchored by a shimmery reverb guitar tone, and a bevy of pedals and effects, keeping it altogether, in one chamber. This is a move sideways from forays into a more acoustic sound, Home Waters, or experiments into a rockier direction, How The City Sings. It feels his own and fits well, if not always comfortably. And whilst it is on his own label, the hand of Andy Bell looms large, as co-producer and with the presence of some key players from the Hudson stable.

Opening with the title track, it is his 1966 Gibson ES125 that is the first sound heard, a glistening, glittery sound. Then, at one, Carter’s voice meets the bass of Ben Nicholls and drums of Evan Jenkins, as they set off, together, on their journey. Conjuring up the mood of sails at sunset, it feels like a prayer, an incantation, maybe: “Save me, silver horizon“, he sings. The individual components all have space to breathe, and it is this pared back feel, identifiable separation on a broad soundscape, that permeates the whole set. A stunning set piece statement of an opener.

gloriously emotive

“My house was full of stranger’s stuff, and not nearly full enough of silence” furthers the sense of stark soliloquy, underlaid with proof of that finger-picking prowess, never showy, but always supportive. A second guitar, Stuart McCallum, nestles beneath Carter’s, with a warm glow of keyboards from Ian Stephenson. If I have mentioned already his vocals, I have to mention them again, wincingly and gloriously emotive. Simple Days is more of the same, with Jenkins back to corral the mood, which remains optimistically downbeat. (Of course, you can!). This is the first to feature the backing vocals of Rowan Rheingans. What feels at first a lighter track, becomes ever more stuck in your head, glued in your ear by the end.

You Give Me Life returns to the spiritual, an introspective excursion into the soul of the singer, so much so it feels almost intrusive, with Good Enough, up next, presented as to offer some respite. One of the more orthodox songs here, with a forward bubbling bass, locking arms with the fleetly forward drums, it is certainly that, and a lot more, with echoes of Gerry Rafferty in both sound and construction. It makes for a palate cleanser, breaking the moment, and is possibly a deliberate retreat from intensity. It would make a good single, and is actually available as such.

Respite over, Carter delves back into his dark matter for the hymnal Through Me Through The Night, Rheingans adding some spectral texture to the chorus, a self-soothing lullaby to himself, if addressed to his loved one. I guess it worked, as Proof Of The Pudding is now a springy John Martyn-esque song, were Martyn ever quite so pure in his diction, with Nicholls channeling the spirit, and sound, of Danny Thompson. It is a lovely song, as well as giving some reassurance to Carter’s well being. Boxes And Bags perpetuates that mood, a lilting melody, that is more thoughtful and descriptive than some of the couch confessionals earlier in the record. The keyboards, now more obviously harmonium, hum, and, with less pedal, the brief guitar meander in the middle eight is just gorgeous.

chilling and unsettling

Should you worry as to the content of If You Set Me Free, don’t. Or do, but it is safer to consider it a small hours what if. Over hypnotic percussion and sinuous bass, Carter muses his long dark night of the soul, and it is a chilling and unsettling five minutes. Not that any less enjoyment, or probably more, appreciation of the experience can’t be drawn. The acoustic strum of All I Need to Know is much more comfortable, if relatively. Light stuff, this ain’t, with the final track, Sights Beyond The Sky seeming to come full circle, back on the boat of life, traversing a now calmer sea, if mindful still of where be monsters. The blend of ingredients is as well honed as throughout, Jenkins’ drumbeat a constant gauge of direction.

This record is a veritable chimera; a first and casual listen may suggest gentle domesticity, with, on closer investigation, the power of a lion and the fire of a dragon in the onslaught of Carter’s unfettered consciousness. A primal scream in whispered form. It is also very good.

Here’s Good Enough:

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