Rousing UK Americana/folk/prog band unlock a vivid and varied third treasure chest of power and positivity.
Release Date: 31st January 2025
Label: Earache Records
Format: CD / digital
Our Damian Liptrot isn’t the only one to rave about this six-piece, during his recent trip to Blackpool, as the rest of the team found also much to please at Cropredy, a year and a half ago. Not then present, but with many boxes appearing to be ticked, notably fiddle and female singer (and, yes, I am that easily pleased), it was with some anticipation that I opened this. But first…
…SOME BACKGROUND
This is album number three, if you discount live sets, with the last, Back To Zero, getting the sort of recognition that might suggest a pact with a famously horned fiddle player, down in Georgia. But live performances have shown this to be more than mere studio smoke and mirrors, with last year alone seeing sets at festivals as varied as Belladrum, Northern Kin and Towersey, let alone the Buckle and Boots Country Festival, last May, in Manchester. If that suggests some divergence around which silo of genre they fit best, well, yes, I guess tht’s correct, even if they themselves describe their product as Americana Rock, Let’s see……..
DELICIOUS JANGLES
Don’t Turn The Lights On starts with a delicious jangle, before lead vocalist, SJ Mortimer chimes in with what I can only call knowing vocals, that curiously confident expression of someone in full grasp of an expansive larynx, sultry and soulful both. Harmonies waft in: all the other five members contributing, over a background scrub of fiddle and electric guitars. I was warned around the M word, comparisons with Fleetwood Mac, at least sonically, and they are certainly present, if with a wider instrumental palette and, here, a little more woomph. A song around performance, set just before the show, it prompts the forthcoming mood with gusto.
INFECTIOUS ROUSTABOUT
Changing tack, Boy On The Train opens with acoustic guitar and Nicole Terry’s fiddle, or violin, as the sleevenotes insist. Now with the bassist, Callum Morgan on vocals, he offers a more rugged and ragged tone, as organ swirls at the backline, from Matt Brocklehurst. The rest of the band are all, by now, both playing and adding six-piece vocal attack. Mortimer adds a second verse, to focus the vocal contrast, the whole a glorious and infectious roustabout. My notes comment on the thumping tubs of Ed Bullinger, as Terry peels off a searing solo.
The pure “south will rise again” style guitar of Feels Like Letting Go is a further switch of dynamic, like a fiddle enhanced Lynyrd Skynyrd ballad, complete with a ripping guitar solo, that duty the province of Morgan’s twin brother, Kieran. I’m smiling, and that is even before Mortimer herself laughs, midtrack, all part her stellar delivery.
Not content with following with more of anything heard thus far, Edge Of The Sun sees Brocklehurst now on piano for a lighters in the air banger, redolent of, if astonishingly, Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s Power Of Love. As the layers add and rhythm section build, it becomes more Morganway, the vocal onslaught allied with another peak eke of emotion from Kieran Morgan’s axe (I feel he would like it to be axe).
A SUMMER STONKER
By comparison, Halfway Tonight, which this isn’t yet, quite, seems a little throwaway, in it’s simple country choogle of a riff. But, that is only by that contrast, as it remains a sturdy confection, with echoes of (the) Eagles’ Already Gone, if with a slightly more sophisticated build. This is especially redolent within the last third, when the fiddle and keys become much more prominent. This’ll be a stonker in a field somewhere this Summer, as the sun goes down; I can easily imagine being far from the only soul singing along.
The title track again shows the band’s willingness to experiment with and extend their canon. This time there is a strong whiff of what I have to call prog folk in the air, if only because prog country seems yet to be a thing, with a flickery and echoey guitar motif, filtered through a Leslie cabinet, and a decisive bass footprint at it’s core. Is it too self-consciously epic? I’m not saying and reserve the band their right for it to be so, the steady metronome of drums keeping such fancy in check, even as it wigs out to the close. A set closer to be sure, or possibly the first encore.
PUSHING THE ENVELOPE
Devil’s Canyon has them return to the sound of Capricorn Records, 1969-79, a choogling country blues where Mortimer ups the sassy factor in her emulsive croon, with hints of ATB favourite, Elles Bailey, creeping into some of the more fraying edges of her articulation. The following Goddamn Time then completely tears up the template, being a mash of Elton John and the Faces, if in Laurel Canyon. Morgan, C, even sounds like Reg from Pinner. A weaker song, it nonetheless confirms their commitment to pushing the envelope.
This gets followed by Surrender, arguably the most Mac-cy construct here. Actually, no, not Mac, exuding more of the Stevie Nicks solo schtick, with and when the Heartbreakers were her backing band. I like this song much, Mortimer totally at one, within her moody vocal delivery, exuding emotion in every note.
I confess I took less to the next couple of songs, with All The Times Are There reminding me too much of the one Mac song I could never take to, Big Love, with the awkward vocal tics of that song possibly a harbinger for the oo ah ah‘s here. My issue, as I sure it could be a belter live. Similarly, I Feel The Rain seems almost recidivist in the rockist reductionism, however crafted the intent.
THE MODUS OPERANDI
All is forgiven, in an instant, for the closer, We Sing. Like the opener, this is a song based on being an onstage and on the road band, their modus operandi. Quite different, again, from anything before, it is another opportunity to get those lighters out and sway. A power ballad with almost hymnal qualities, it starts with Callum Morgan’s voice, suddenly a far more potent instrument for this song. Guest vocals come from American country chanteuse, Alyssa Bonagura, surely one of the few singers on the planet to have duetted with Kenny Rogers and been a member of Pete Wylie’s The Mighty Wah. In truth it is hard to discern the join between she and Mortimer, as broadly both so similar, but, whichever or both, the female response vocals here are tremendous, including, as they do, Terry. What a way to close.
I like this record, that is clear. It shows a band confident in their influences and their application of them, within an identifiable trajectory of their own. Try as I might, once the Mac comparison became apparent, it is hard to shake off, so much part their fabric, but, this well done, why should it be denied, anyway? Their arrangements go beyond that band ever sought to or needed to. So fair play. Lop off a couple of tracks and this very good album could be great.
Here is that striking opening track, Don’t Turn The Lights On:
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