Scouse poet, singer, songwriter and envelope-pushing experimentalist Rob Clarke returns with another dose of his trademark psych-pop and droll Liverpudlian observation.  With his new album, Opiope, Rob once again reminds us nothing is serious – and nothing is sacred.

PSYCH-POP AND DROLL HUMOUR

Two things are certain whenever Scouse poet, singer, songwriter and envelope-pushing experimentalist Rob Clarke delivers a new album – and those certainties are: (1) Expect the unexpected and; (2) Expect to be charmed, cheered and challenged.

Those are lessons that we’ve been able to take in our stride.  Putting The L In Wooltones, Rob’s 2021 album with his sometime band, The Wooltones, remains an enduring favourite of ours – an endearing and quirky blend of pastiche Merseybeat and authentic psychedelia.  Rob’s 2024 solo album, Blues, Beats and Brel, was a different prospect altogether – a ‘soufflé of raw delta blues and Gallican pop,’ we called it – although the Scouse humour that pervades everything that Rob touches was present and correct.

For Opiope – Rob’s 5^th solo offering – he’s chosen the middle ground between those two extremes.  Opiope is described as: “An album that resides in the past, the present and the future.”  Rob’s trademark psych-pop is here in abundance and so are the droll Scouse observations on life, the universe and office routine.  Helped out by Wooltone GP Chesters on bass, drums and percussion and with cameo appearances from Pepe Hoonage (another Wooltone) on drums, Ryan Clarke on bass and producer/co-conspirator Fran Ashcroft, the music is astonishingly good, too!

SIZZLING RHYTHMS

A slow build-up of guitar, piano and howling harmonica gets Opiope’s opening track, Bird of Prey underway.  The sound is warm, with a hint of mystery, and Rob’s chosen genre sits in the oft-ignored no-man’s land between psych and folk.  “Cry like a bird, like a bird of prey.  Swallow your words for another day,” sings Rob, as the weirdness builds behind him before breaking out into the song’s extended, gently grungy, coda.

There’s a familiar Bonzo-twist to the delightful psych-pop of the short, sweet, Dr Donald, a song packed with quirky lyrical references that comes to a surprisingly abrupt ending.  And the psych-pop theme is carried over into the melodic Blue Day for a Black Swan.  GP provides a solid foundation on bass and subtle percussion and Rob’s guitar and piano blend nicely together.

I’ve always believed that odd false start adds a touch of authenticity to any recording and it seems that that’s a view that Rob (and producer Fran) both subscribe to.  Indeed, for the Byrds-ish Heart for Advertising Rob and the guys have not two, but three goes at getting going.  It works out well, though – a wistful song, with a throbbing, sizzling rhythm and a sense of freedom in the music, courtesy of Rob’s accomplished piano.

UNIQUE PHILOSOPHY

Chugging guitars and a pulsing rhythm provide the accompaniment to Rob’s deadpan, hilarious monologue for the hypnotic-yet-engaging Flat.  “What if the world was flat?” he asks.  “What would you think of that?”  Then, just as you’re ready to answer that one, he poses another perplexing question: “What if the world was square?  Right angles everywhere!”

Stately piano introduces Everything That’s Good, a grand pop ballad with a genuine late 60s flavour.  GP’s bass is rich and resonant and Rob’s voice is strident as he voices yet more of his unique philosophy: “Everything that’s bad is good – if it’s only understood.  Everything that’s good is bad – crying when you want to laugh.”  I reckon he’s got a point.

The quirkiness quotient reaches another level with the album’s dreamy title track.  Domestic sounds, dominated by the laughter, cries, screams and homilies of an infant (Rob’s daughter, I suspect…) are backed by a soothing blend of guitar, piano and strings.  It’s unexpected (only to be expected – as I’ve already pointed out…) and it’s recommended for anyone who misses being at home.  And anyone that doesn’t, for that matter…

KINDA HUMDRUM…

And the gentle, almost ambient, accompaniment is continued as Rob’s vivid vocals muse over the sheer mundanity of a day at the desk, in At the Office.  “It’s very boring,” “It’s kinda humdrum” and “When’s the tea-break?” are amongst the comments he makes – and there will be many listeners who, like me, realise that they’ve all spent time in THAT particular boat.

The pace slows right down to a crawl for Last Summer, the album’s dreamiest track by some measure.  Rob lyrics recall such summer experiences as surfing and having the time and freedom to live life in a dream – and the mood is a blissful one.

Opiope is brought to its close with Blue Over You, a tongue-in-cheek bluesy rag that has ‘singalong’ written all over it.  Written by co-conspirator and producer Fran Ashcroft, it’s the album’s only non-Rob Clarke composition, but it’s an inspired choice of closing track, nonetheless.  The piano playing is, once again, impressive and the deliberately-assumed jaded tones in Rob’s voice are an effective way of saying: “Until next time, goodbye!”

Rob Clarke: Website

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