You know the name, you know the songs, here they are, together, as originally intended.

Release Date : 7th November 2025

Label : Morello (Cherry Red)

Format : CD

NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH MUSIC

Whatever they say about there just being too much damn music available, as anything and everything gets dredged up from the depths of last century, sometimes, just sometimes, the celebration of some of those releases makes up for all the rest. This is one of those. I was just a bit too young and green to fully appreciate the McGarrigles, coming to them via their songs, as performed by others, and by their connections and the connections of those connections. By connections, I guess I mean of their children, or those, at least, of Kate, via her slightly more famous ex, Loudon Wainwright III. So, Rufus and Martha, with the extended Wainwright clan seeming so inextricably linked with the Thompsons, as in Richard, Linda, Teddy and Kami.

These two albums, squeezed onto one CD, represent their first two releases, hailing from 1976 and 1977 respectively. 1976, then, and whilst rose tinted mirror shades might have you recall it as an era of unbridling punk, the big sellers were still an older guard: Floyd, Springsteen and Dylan, so it was all the more extraordinary that the rock album of 1976, as awarded by Melody Maker that December, was the eponymous debut by the two sisters. Not an album with anything very much akin to rock in it at all, it seems from a much earlier age, with strong elements of folk, country, ragtime and jazz seeming far more to the fore.

CURIOUSLY IDIOSYNCRATIC

It is with a rolling and amost pentecostal piano that the disc opens, before one of the curiously idiosyncratic McGarrigle voices strikes up. This is Kiss And Say Goodbye, by Kate, and, I’m guessing, sung also by her. Known so well for their sibling harmonies, it is surprising to recall how much each sister also sings alone, not that the credits reveal which is which. A burst of slide, from Lowell George, no less, heralds the roll in the piano beginning to slip into N’Awlins territory, facilitated by some Beale Street brass. As the vocals become choral, the rich amalgam of quaver and warble come together, two modalities that shouldn’t really mix, but, like oil and vinegar, they hit the spot without fault.

Anna’s My Town is then a country gospel blues, abetted by some exquisite harmonica and tinkling mandolin. It seems little expense was sought in sourcing the sympathetic musos that back the sisters, the studio clearly aware the quality of songcraft. Time and space won’t allow all the individual credits, or which sister wrote which song, but, as far as the latter, they seem pretty evenly spaced, and, for the former, it would be entirely improper not to mention how splendid is the piano the sisters take turn upon. Blues In D offers a splendid example. Starting fairly simply, it buids with some majesty, with clarinet smoking sinuously about the voice and keyboard, especially as the tune breaks into a trotting ragtime rhythm.

INSUFFERABLY SAD

One of the big McG songs arrives next, the much covered Heart Like A Wheel, sounding so much more distressed than later versions grant the song. Prayer hall organ swirls about the insufferably sad delivery, banjo and guitar the only other instruments. And, as the harmonies abut, I think, Anna’s lead vocal, it isn’t multi-tracking that you hear, as there is actually a third McGarrigle on board, big sis Janie on board for this one, as well as playing that organ. Just the three of them, vocally and instrumentally, a performance enough to nail their reputations for posterity.

I always associate some boulevard accordion with the McGarrigles, proof of their, in part, French (Canadian) lineage, but it isn’t until track five it appears, for Foolish You, a cover of a song by Wade Hemsworth, a sort of Canadian Pete Seeger and an early mentor to the siblings. This also introduces long time associate, Chaim Tannenbaum, on guitar, mentioned given his enduring sidesmanship for them and their extended family of musicians. It rollicks along like a downhome porch party, and prepares the ground for big hitter number two, Talk To Me Of Mendocino, which is every bit as statuesque as you’d expect, with just the two sisters, piano and strings. Stripped thus back, the comparison with Randy Newman’s style of writing is inescapable, if better sung, especially as the two voices combine for the familiar chorus, a song of nostalgia and tears.

QUEBECOIS EXCURSIONS

The first McGarrigle record I ever bought was their French Record, not realising until now that is a compilation of their songs written French. So the delight of catching that album’s highlight, Complainte Pour Ste-Catherine here was huge. It is a splendid, splendid song, both in construction and scaffolding, with the unexpected array of players providing a gumbo of some suoerior taste. A co-write between Anna and Philippe Tatartcheff, he tended to be their go to for their excursions into Quebecois.

Tell My Sister is a glorious swirl of Dixieland that must have been quite a shock for most rock lovers in 1976, strange in how it now seems so much more acceptable, which hence underlines the timelessness of this disc. As that realisation seeps in, another shock is that Swimming Song gets a banjo laden outing here. With the assumption that the separation and divorce between Kate and the song’s author, Wainwright, might have vexed this version, the reality is otherwise. Having said, it isn’t so hard a jump to imagine the song as metaphor for life after a relationship, making this version a little more poignant than Wainwright’s own possibly more literal delivery. With Jigsaw Puzzle Of Life perhaps then underwriting the dichotomy, an otherwise straightforward country waltz.

BOTH BRAVURA AND BRAVE

So what about the expected acrimony and dripping claws? Well, you get that, sort of, with the plangent Go Leave, a bravura, and brave, solo performance fom Kate, with just her guitar and never more pained vocal. Rather than an angry and bitter Dear Loudon, is is all sad resignation, realising a reality her sometime husband may yet have been able to. You couldn’t follow that with anything, really, the album closing with a the somewhat throwaway Travelling On For Jesus, a hokey gospel song from, possibly, their childhood.

I have made far greater play for this first album, and this first half the re-released disc. This is mainly as it a much better album. Having said, Sweden was the only market it made any great impact upon, attaining a #27 on that chart, perhaps suffering through the diversity and eclecticism of styles and performance. Joe Boyd was thus recruited for Dance With Bruised Knees, bringing in many of his Witchseason familiars, notably John Cale and Dave Mattacks. Fotheringay bass man, Pat Donaldson was also recruited, leading to he and Kate becoming an item, until her death, in 2010.

QUIRKY AND ANGULAR

The title track starts with the now familiar piano template frequently adopted, quirky background coos and aahs the main feature of an otherwise undistinguished song, that give it a lick of Kate Bush. This album does distinguish between lead sister, confirming my suspicions, Kate having the lower of the two timbres, which she uses for the Brecht & Weill-y Southern Boys, all Black Freighter in mood and vocal dissonance. I like biscuits, and The Biscuit song is thus the first to lift my mood, another quirky, angular composition, but isn’t theirs, coming from a Max Frith and Angus MacRoy, me nor google either.

First Born, for all the tart one-upmanship within sibling rivalry, fails also to ignite, the bvs now intrusive and borderline annoying. It takes the traditional carol, Blanche Comme La Neige, to lift the standard of the album back to it’s predecessor, sister Janie again reprising organ, this time a wheezy winter warmer, with recorder adding some innocent charm.The tripartite harmonies are glorious, with some rounds threatening to take off. Followed by a further cheery song from a Quebecois Christmas, at least to my untranslating ears. You wouldn’t want any more, mind, the risk a kitsch a heartbeat away, not least as a parpy trumpet joins in.

YEARNING

Be My Baby is a complete change of tack, an almost calypso that jaunts out on a bed of Caribbean percussion, which then adds in marimba, conjuring up the mood of Cat Stevens or Paul Simon, when they occupy such territory. Walking Song, probably follows on from her ex’s Swimming Song, and likely also her own Go Leave, and features Kate without Anna, and piano, accordion and bass providing a tentative basis for starting out a single life alone, via a sense of yearning for someone to walk with. Of course, this is conjecture, the joy of listening to a narrative long after it has transpired.

A third song in French, and another one where Anna has involved Tatartcheff for lyrical input, Naufragée Du Tendre, is essentially a rewrite, melody and mood wise of Ste-Catherine, if no less pleasant for that. Kate then embraces her own sense of Gallic, for Hommage à Grungie, which has to be a fabulous name for a song, whoever or whatever Grungie may be. This isn’t explained by the lyric, it confusingly a song in English, a rippling and rambling paean to stopping what ever else you are doing and sitting down with a good book. Or something/someone a little livelier, with wine partaken. A piano blues progression, with harmonica, that reminds me those early Lindisfarne songs, Uncle Sam, that sort of thing, and that is enough to endear this song to me.

ANY MAWKISHNESS TRANSCENDED

Anyway, narrative I was saying, earlier, and that again comes right back into focus, fro Kitty Come Home, Anna’s song to her sister, post divorce, a plea for her to return to back home, to her kin. A graceful melody, Anna sings over her own piano, as organ smoulders and a recorder toots, the magic, as their voices combine, transcending the mawkishness of, say, when her son, Rufus, covered it with Pink Martini. As you surreptiously wipe an eye, the bouncy music hall of Come A Long Way is the ideal closer, some aimiable nonsense with banjo and box complementing the clip clop piano parts.

If you are McGarrigle curious, or even suspicious, this is the ideal place to dip in your toes. The debut I would argue is essential, with Dancer containing sufficient to make it a sort of bonus. Faithfuls will have them both already, but fans of Loudon, Martha and/or Rufus Wainwright might see this set as a way of rounding it all out and together. As might anyone who has heard other versions of some of these songs. With upward of 25 versions of Heart Like A Wheel, for instance, there is a lot of scope. As Cherry Red norm, this set comes with a booklet that reprises the original sleeve content of both albums and some further additional content, a snip for any lover of Emmylou Harris or Linda Ronstadt, yet to cross over this threshold.

What better place? Here’s a live version, from 1990:

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