Bluegrass frolics from the UFQ banjo man to banish the banjax in your life and of those around you. Dan Walsh releases At The Station.
A WHIFF OF WIDNES
I get a whiff of Widnes as I look at the cover artwork above. As in Paul Simon and Homeward Bound, yes? You know, the itinerant musician as they travel, plying their trade. Having said, the chances are that it is actually Stafford, the home of this consummate king of the banjo, certainly the best in his county, if not in the country. You’ll know him from Urban Folk Quartet. Or possibly, before that, as a duet with Will Pound. But, in parallel, there has always been a solo career, taking banjo away from any strict silos based solely around Celtic folk or bluegrass. Mind you, he is adept at both and much more; if you want clawhammer, which is his main focus, three-finger or with a pick, he’s your man, capable also of producing complex Indian ragas from this too oft derided instrument.
FULL BAND
Here, rather than playing alone or with a scattering of guests, for the first time he embraces a full band sound, who perform as a unit across these 12 tunes and songs. Enrolling the talents of Nic Zuppardi (mandolin), Niles Krieger (fiddle) and Lucy Williams (upright bass), from, variously, The Shackleton Trio, The Often Herd and The Jaywalkers, you might imagine the tendency more toward country styles. And you wouldn’t be wrong, this the classic instrumental line-up of bluegrass. Just expect it to be a lot more besides.
EXTRA BANDWIDTH
The album opens with Still A Town, reprising from lockdown’s Live At The Floodgate. A powerful song solo, centring around the demise of town and city retail centres, it leaps boundlessly into the extra bandwidth offered by the quartet. The join between banjo and Zuppardi’s mandolin is exquisite, honed from the years the two have of playing together, he being part of an earlier Dan Walsh trio. it was already a good song and now it is great.
Acoustic Circus leaps off into sophisticated syncopation, an instrumental duet of guitar and banjo. My copy doesn’t offer the credits here, uncertain as to whether both are by played by Walsh, he being also a deft guitarist. Having said, it would be equally feasible that Zuppardi is here playing the banjo, with he being no slouch on that instrument either. What Should We Be Fighting For returns to quartet mode, for a second song, which addresses the dea(r)th of Arts funding available, these dark days of cuts and closures. A simple and attractive tune, Walsh has a dusty unpolished timbre somewhere between any particular named Byrd or Lindisfarne associate . Which neatly encompasses the received ambience. Krieger’s fiddle applies a keening presence that gilds the song with a memorable midsong hook.
NIFTY PICKING
Changing Tides is a tremendous bluegrass breakdown, banjo, fiddle and mandolin taking turns to shine, one by one and one after the other, all held in array by Williams’ bounding bass. The pattern of song, instrumental, song instrumental then continues with an obscure cover version that Walsh dug up from his youth. Anyone remember Irish 1990’s band, Picturehouse? Their signature sound was of a melodic power-pop provenance, that maybe got lost amidst the Brit-pop turbulence of the day. Walsh remembered it and he translates it reasonably well to his more acoustic idiom. An uncomplicated melody, it relies on some nifty picking to raise it into anything special.
The longest track here is January Waltz, Which, at a little over 6 minutes, carries a distinct flavour of Celtic melancholy about it. More old timey and more sedate, it shows a grand sense of control, so as to maintain the strictly defined tempo of the waltz. A tune to gather your thoughts by, it is perfectly placed in the centre of the album, a how is it for you so far moment, getting a satisfactory answer from here. The somewhat livelier What’s She Got is a Walsh composition, and is an observational narrative around using a phone whilst in charge of a pram. Rather than overtly judgemental, it is more a sad musing. So Much Light is another song, this time capturing Walsh’s thoughts at the funeral of a friend, the tempo belying the context of his words.
YEE-HAW, OUR KID
Clatterbug, apart from being a fabulous name, is a frenzy of solo banjo, awash with the harmonics you might not believe the instrument capable of, ahead developing into a bluesy ragtime, um, rag. I’ve heard nothing quite like it before. I have, however, heard something quite like the next track, which will gnaw at your memory banks until the lyric starts to unfold. Oasis bluegrass style? Yup, it is Some Might Say, which I have already sent over to my chums at Cover Me; it working really rather well in this style. Although I can’t quite see the bros. Gallagher doing an Appalachian hoe-down to it, in all truth.
That bit of fun done and dusted, What Went Before is then a tremendous song with an acoustic western swing all about it. By Walsh, it is another where he turns his attention to another death. “Ultimately, I always want to write about things I understand and that make sense to me“, he says, my feel more that it is through song that he makes the connections his understanding requires. It relates how music can unlock the deepest of buried treasure in a mind ploughed over by dementia, prompted by an all but mute Welshman finding again his voice, from when Walsh worked in such settings and for that very reason. It is certainly my favourite of the songs sung here. Zuppardi’s mandolin is a twinkling firestorm in the breaks.
HOMEGROWN HOEDOWNS
Move Away, which closes, starts off as further typical bluegrass breakdown, albeit, this time, with vocals. I’m a sucker for this sort of thing, it maxing up all the joy of the Flying Burrito Brothers as they absorbed Country Gazette. But rather than a standard from the 1930’s, it is Walsh’s own, a song of succour to a friend seeking escape from a toxic situation. It makes for an altogether uplifting end to this welcome addition to the canon of homegrown hoedowns from Staffordshire. An album built for enjoyment and for outdoors, it is epitomises listening for pleasure.
Dan Walsh: Website