If horses are for courses, this 3rd course is fit for a banquet; the Brown Horse canter remains unabated.

COUNTRY ‘N’ EASTERN

Cosmic country is the byline of at least one other prominent UK Americana outfit, but I would argue that Norwich’s finest have also valid claim to the soubriquet, as well as offering an equivalently fearsome work ethic. A 3rd album in 3 years is good going, by any current reference point, even if you disregard the leaps and bounds this band have put into each and every step forward. ATB enjoyed Reservoir, the debut, enjoyed more All The Right Weaknesses and is enjoying this one still even more.

If you can fathom an unholy mix between R.E.M. and Crazy Horse, with equal parts Green On Red, riddled through with steel guitar, accordion and more, you’d be close, but their key stock in trade is their own individuality, with all four members contributing songs that simmer with their own personal perspectives. And live, they are another thing apart, channeling the power and passion of the Band at full peak pelt. Yes, that the Band.

ROCK WRIT LARGE

Since last year’s record they have trimmed back a little, back again to the hard core quartet of writers who, ahead of Brown Horse, the country-rock band, had all worked extensively together in a covers heavy East Anglicana folk band. Which isn’t to say the sound is now any less immense than for the records before, with the rock remaining writ large, as, currently co-opted drummer, Bed Rodwell, can hammer out a fair old righteous racket in the basement. With Emma Tovell swapping between bass and steel guitar, Nyle Holihan plies savage and searing guitar and, where needed, sweeter mandolin or banjo.

Meanwhile, Rowan Bramham is evoking the full Garth Hudson, on organ, accordion and piano, leaving the languid and deliberately somewhat distant vocal and rhythm guitar of Patrick Turner up front: think a glorious cross between early Stipe and Stuart Staples. Additional vocals come from the rest of the band and, for this record, from Neve Cariad.

IMMEDIATE CONFIDENCE

The confidence to burn slow, with splinters of guitar falling slowly out, so desultory and dirty as to create acres of space, is immediate. Opening track, Sorrow Reigns, is in no hurry, as it lopes and lurches free. Guitars meld and mash, as Turner wails emphatically, the bass and drums beating their way through the path set out by the churn of organ. Subtle and delicate it ain’t, with a riff to wave a flag to.

With Holihan curling and squeezing squealed notes out, it is that stage in a forest fire when all the water in the world won’t matter. As it crunches into completion, so the angular rhythm of Twisters clunks into gear, steel guitar sashaying a triumphant sway alongside the Turner’s hesitant urgency. Two tracks in and they have you for the taking. If you are not now already checking out their live schedule, go back and start listening again. With both ears.

Comeback Loading crunches on the brakes, a slow-form stutter with more scalding steel, the backing vocals adding a heady whiff of the Walkabouts at full stretch. Holihan and Turner’s guitars have that Keef ‘n’ Ronnie innate interconnectiveness; or is it Shakey and Sampedro? Less overt than in the live setting, listen carefully, and Bramham is skilfully and constantly setting the stage, with chiming keyboards that swathe a dense undercurrent. It becomes apparent that it is accordion, here, which, as the song progresses, weeps higher up into the mix.

The quality is relentless, as Hares drops from slow to almost static. A story song, a journey song, it seems easier to imagine this in the Joshua Tree National Park than on the A47 to King’s Lynn, but maybe there is something we don’t know. out there, in the bulge of East Anglia. Who knew?

RAGGED COHESION

So far we have had songs from each of the four writers, with the only conclusion able to be drawn, is that any discernible join is entirely disguised, by the meticulously put together raggedness of band arrangements. This essentially binds them cohesively into coming from, or seeming to, but one source. Heart Of The Country, with some lovely lithe bass to complement the swell of guitar and accordion, evokes yet more desert sundown scenery. A mandolin tinkles but the tonality remains resolutely plugged into the slo-mo mains.

More upbeat, at least in rhythm, is the steel and guitar fuelled twin riffage of the title track. Lyrics are seldom clear to break free the overall, but here they do: “Laughter in the hall seldom brings me joy“, that admission coming as little surprise. The harmony wreaks out and reeks of a fevered hopelessness.

Wreck, at a little over 6 minutes is the longest track here, set to a leisurely cruise control of choppy guitar and singing steel. Snatches of lyric leap out sporadically, remaining faithfully disconsolate and disappointed; I’m uncertain whether any of the four have much truck in happy. It is a tremendous song. God forbid they ever offer up their Shiny Happy People. Oblivion picks up where Wreck lays off, and staggers mournfully thataway, with accordion and steel to dot the i’s and cross the t’s. On paper this makes this sound possibly too much, but, believe me, in the moment, in the mood, this is the perfect backdrop for the end of the world. And feeling fine about it.

SO DARN ADDICTIVE

Heavy again pairs the sound of Athen’s finest with Neil Young’s ditch trilogy, putting the two together exquisitely, with little bites of, of course, Lowrey-like organ nibbling around the union. The sound of picked fuzzy guitar is just so darn addictive. At 6 or 7 listens in, rather than tiring, all I am getting is added nuance, as hitherto unrealised sounds, usually those from Bramham, filter through. Additional electric piano the case in point for this one. It also ends on one of the best out of context slash across the guitar strings ever, the strummed equivalent of the Simon Kirke d-lop on the drums.

Too soon, far too soon, it is time for the final track, that point perhaps underscored by it being the closest to acoustic yet. Which is still some distance away, but, the absence of drums, at least to start, give it that feel. Watching Something Burn Up staggers restlessly to the horizon, that gait remaining unstructured even as the drums return. You sort of want to know the score here, it is as if Turner is willing you to decipher his strangled larynx, but the message is obliquely enigmatic as it seems always to have been: “Nobody knows when or why forgotten gods might decide to turn up“. Indeed. The bvs shimmer and shake over his wilderness prophet and it all feels this may be all quite normal for Norwich,

INVEST!

Yup, I loved this one. I thought I would, I hoped I would and they didn’t disappoint. My advice would be to invest in this band, live or recorded, each equally essential. I can’t see ’em not breaking fully through soon, with all credit to label, Loose, for keeping the faith thus far. They hit stateside in May, with a few more dates in Blighty before they go, and more again in the autumn. Tour dates here.

Twisters gives as good a starting point as any.

Brown Horse: Website

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