The masterpiece nobody, least of all himself, anyone would ever want to have had the inspiration for. Michael Weston King on Nothing Can Hurt Me Anymore.

A GRIM TRUISM

It is both a deadly irony and a grim truism that it is from often the worst of tragedy that the best of art arises. And, similarly, that sad songs trigger so much more than the disposable charm of happy go lucky. MWK knows this, but must surely long for the day when any mention of him isn’t prefaced by his loss. But, for now, it is inescapable and essential, integral even to the appreciation of this ineffably poignant set. Southport, 29/7/24, three young girls were senseless and needlessly killed, an act of evil. Bebe King, aged 6, was one of them. Michael Weston King is her grandfather.

DIGNITY & HARD WON WISDOM

As we stated recently, in the review of one of the singles, the title track, it derailed the singer-songwriter’s then plans for some new My Darling Clementine, his duo partnership with wife, Lou Dalgleish. The time wasn’t right, they each retreating to their own space, to find individual solace from the grief. Dalgleish’s own solo album will follow, later in the year. Meanwhile, witness the strongest, humbling responses to the unthinkable you can imagine, the dignity and hard won wisdom dripping from the grooves. And it isn’t all bleakness wall to wall either; between the songs of reflection and, yes, almost acceptance, songs of hope and love well up from between the tears, a testimony to the innate strengths possible, when all else has gone.

INTENSE & POWERFUL

The album opens in the style and stance of classic Springsteen, circa 1984, let’s say his glory days, with never more Bittanesque piano. But that is merely a swerve to gain attention, which, duly taken, lets the song become Weston King’s own, and decisively so. The lyric dives straight into the direct, as the events of Summer 2024 sank in: “We drank like there’s no tomorrow and then realised we were right“. Gulp. But, within all the galling detail, hope remains: “Let the healing begin“. The dynamic is intense and powerful, not without criticism, buoyed on a rollercoaster of guitars and steel, that piano a constant metronome beneath.

Whilst we may have referenced the title track previously, on repeated listens, so the horror and the gravitas intertwine, ever the more sinuously. I said I couldn’t stop listening previously and I still can’t. Die Of Shame picks up again the cudgel against the media and much the crassness the reportage then employed. By skilful application of the licks and language of cinematic cliche, the enormity of his psychic assault is placed centre stage, The arrangement is chock full of John Barry strings, whilst the band thumps out around the soaring vocal.

RESPITE

Respite is taken, for the simultaneously jazzy and folky Field Of Our Own, which has Weston King crooning around his and Dalgleish’s relocation to West Wales. It sounds a song to have preceded those coming before it, which makes the poignancy of the words all the more affecting, the couple likely never expecting the sanctuary sought to then become to life-savingly necessary. It sits comfortably alongside the unashamed love song, addressed to his wife, Grow Old With Me, awash with Sally Army sounding brass, even with the words perhaps reeking of hindsight and being careful for what you wish. The Leslied tremolo guitar part is just wonderful. A welcome flip side to the darkness elsewhere.

Just A Girl In The Summer brings back the strings, this time in a lush echo of Bacharach, a wistful love song in the pre-merseybeat stylings of Richard Hawley. Given the presence of Colin Elliot, Hawley’s producer, co-producing and at the mixing desk, this is hardly surprising, but it takes more than that, with Weston King’s voice as plaintively wanting as you can take. Similarly, and across the album, Elliot provides much of the instrumental backing, abetted by Shez Sheridan, Clovis Phillips and Matt Beresford.

It is unusual to hear him with a female voice other than Dalgleish, but here Erin ‘A Girl Called Eddy’ Moran is on hand to add her mellow contralto. It’s good, but I want to hear it with his wife, should she be able to bear it. Is it a song again about Bebe? I guess the answer is probably, but it can be taken equally as otherwise, possibly intentionally.

IMPASSIVE COLD FIRE

My favourite track is the bittersweet La Bamba In The Rain. Here we are unfalteringly back on the Sefton coast of Southport, the song an attack on the gung-ho appropriation taken by the far right, in their reflex responses to the unfolding tragedy. If there is a better song about flag waving, I have yet to hear it. Over a repeating guitar motif, Weston King sings strongly and impassively, unleashing cold fire on each and every flag. “It wasn’t the end of the world, it wasn’t the end of the world, it wasn’t the end of the world, but I could see it from there“. I have little doubt.

When I Grow Old, I suspect, is a song written some time ago, the references somehow all the more plangent for the subsequent context. But it feels as it cements acceptance, despite it all, being a firm foundation of the singer’s MO. Yes, it is sentimental and, from anyone else, might smack of cliched conceit. But it doesn’t, not one bit. In a similar frame of mind, A Mother Pride has a poppy new-wave commerciality that almost expects staccato handclap percussion in the chorus.

FULL OF WONDER

Into The West is a bit different. A harmonica wails in the distance, ahead a campfire lament, desert blues, Arizona style, In fact, the first overt nod to the americana of The Good Sons, where Weston King first made a name. As it breaks into spoken word, it is the voice of Oliver J. Lomax, a poet and Weston King’s son, Bebe’s uncle. It provides the perfect backdrop to any perceived overall blackness about the album, which then closes with the gloriously uplifting Sally Sparkles. Uplifting, given it is a final ode to his grand daughter? Actually yes, in that it is a quiet celebration of her life. Sally Sparkles was her family given stage name for back garden performances, and ends this simply wonderful release. As in full of wonder. Just please now let him never have to search this deep into his soul again.

GRACE & COMPASSION

The plaudits for Weston King have never been so fulsome as for this release, and plaudits they are, rather than platitudes. There but for the grace of God is a thought that has never strayed far since becoming familiar with these 11 songs. How many of us could respond with such grace and compassion?

Here is La Bamba In The Rain:

Michael Weston King: Website

At The Barrier: Facebook / X / Instagram