A stunning tour de force of gentle acoustic steel and substance from Eliza Gilkyson.

Release Date : Out Now

Label : Realiza Records

Format : CD / Digital

DON’T MISS THE PARTY!

The vagaries of release and promotion are sometimes lost on me, with missives sometimes arriving a good deal later than the actual date of release, presumably a belated shove arising out of insufficient first time reactions. This is especially true of transatlantic recordings, often coinciding with a tour or somesuch. Be that as it may, much as I strive (ha!) to be hot off the wire, this can mean good and worthy releases, actually like this one, get missed. Even if I look late to the party, this should not be missed.

Gilkyson is one of those singers who seem to have been around forever, never quite getting sufficient payload for traction into the ranks of star status. Plus, there is always the chimaera of clasification; is she folk, country or (shudder) devotional, as Christian music, even if oblique, like some of this, gets sometimes tarnished? I fully accept, as a card carrying agnostic, to normally having precious little truck with the happy clappy, unless, of course, it comes with the lashings of R&B that great Gospel always does.

Well, stuff my prejudiced cant, a tune is a tune is a choon. And Ms. Gilkyson can certainly pen any number of those. as she does, here, her 25th release or thereabouts. So thanks to the whatever or why of this coming this way now., at this stage. (I dare say it may have a fair bit to do with the person to whom she addresses the title track. It shouldn’t be too hard. Clue, rhymes with lump.)

STATELY & ELEGANT MOTIFS

Ten songs that each wash down like, I imagine, a frosted margarita might, on a hot day in New Mexico, she slips effortlessly from acoustic style to style, as stately and elegant motifs fill out around her smoothassilk vocals. As she traverses melodic journeys that just hang in there and hold on, so too the lyrical direction demands equivalent attention to detail.

Even here, in Lichfield, with a lukewarm nescaff cooling on the shelf, the experience is uplifting, with the opener, Song To You a case in point. Ushered in on a bounteous bed of steel and brass, like the Albuquerque Colliery Band, it is a simple song of praise. Strings curve in with some additional balm, and it is just a delight. If the lyrics are, as I suspect, a prayer, in the words of Marc Cohn, in his song, Walking In Memphis, when asked as to his state of faith: “Ma’am, I am tonight!” It is far too good a song to put aside for points of principle.

Impossible Dreams then slips in on the muted bluegrass of mandolin and guitar, a cello sawing gently behind her voice, a steel guitar moaning quietly in the middle distance. Did I say her voice is smooth? Well, it is smoother than that. This seems to be about not living in regret for dreams later deemed impossible. Most of the instrumental heavy lifting and arrangements come from the multi-instrumentalist Don Richmond, who, with Gilkyson, co-produces, as well as tackling electric guitar, dobro, steel, fiddle, harnica, bass, drums and keys. There are other musicians involved, but he takes the lion’s share of credits.

STRAIGHT FOR THE ORANGE JUGULAR

Holy manages to have the feel and cadence of early Leonard Cohen. Were he around, his backing vocals would make for a fabulous combination. As it is, a soft chorale of Cisco Ryder Gilliland and Delia Castillo cope pretty damn well, should that d word not be inappropriate. Despite the song being actually quite angry, the sense of calm dealt thus far is ideal, then for the title track, which goes straight at the orange jugular, with a shard of silken velvet: “Dirty old man with the dead snake eyes, fork-tongued devil telling lie, lie, lies.” (Can you see who it is yet?) “All the sycophants rally ’round their golden idol, jonesin’ for a fix at the hate revival; Vancе, Thiel, Bannon and the X boy clown step onto thе stage to burn the whole thing down“.

OUTRAGE

I think that’s pretty clear, with the depth of Gilkyson’s outrage borne out by the fact there are two available versions of this particular track, one with bleeps and one without. I prefer the latter. A magnificently loping country blues, it is worth the investment alone. Old buddy John Gorka contributes bvs, and Mike Hardwick is responsible for the guitar and dobro, each of which curl savagely around the lyric.

Times Like These is a gentle fiddle sawdown, with a tune slightly reminiscent of Billy Bragg’s setting of Guthrie’s Way Down Yonder In A Minor Key, and gently imparts another message of dissatisfaction. It is another corker, the fiddle, this time from Warren Hood, complementing the mandolin and guitars. Up next, Man In The Moon sees a hushed Gilkyson, near unaccompanied, over skeletal guitar. Not the R.E.M. song; all the songs here are her own, this is almost a lullaby. Gradually there builds a swell of steel and keys, it all rather haunting, the arrangement aching. Stranger is one of those fingerpicking progressions that follow a swoony route into minor key territory. The arrangement is, as ever, lusciously immersive.

CONTENTING AMBIENCE

Dark Night Of The Soul takes a classic construction, with bounding stand-up bass that drives it forward with a contented and, if it is a word, contenting ambience. I’m beginning to wonder how I have earlier overlooked this twice Grammy nominated songwriter, a member both of Austin’s Music Hall of fame, but the Songwriter one also. This is another song insired by the Donald, started as a song in celebration of a Harris victory. (So, file under Impossible Dreams, as above?) Needing a re-write, it became: “keep the light on, vow to fight on, through the dark night of the soul“.

Ten Thousand Things has the sort of muted electric guitar and brushed clip-clop drum shuffle, Cisco Ryder Gilliland again. that can only augur well. (He is actually Gilkyson’s son.) Gilkyson plays guitar here, probably elsewhere, and the song is a pindrop plea. It refers to the 10,000 things that bring her sorrow, yet somehow feels a song of hope. The longest song here, and, if the title track was the looking to be the stand-out, suddenly that position might be a little shaky. The guitar peels off, as the words finish, becoming an enticing Knopfler-esque meander. It is, frankly, wonderful. Nothing can or could really follow that, with the last track the lilting tex-mex waltz of Esta Salida Del Sol. Sure, it’s good, but a little in the shade of the preceding. But worth it, for bringing you back to earth.

You’ve seen the name, I’ve seen the name and now I have listened. Join me in that elevated position and you’l, too, have a new old favourite in a trice.

Here’s the title track. No bleeps!

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