A bumper banging bonanza from Banter shows that, regardless, they can’t be downhearted, needing you neither to be likewise.

CEMENTING THEIR NAME

Banter have steadfastly and solidly been cementing their name and reputation over the past year or few, with nary attendees at any of the many and varied folk festivals across the country, let alone their own Banterfest, able to confess any great ignorance of them. Indeed, are they the hardest working combo on the circuit? It might certainly seem so, they forever popping up on and propping up, always welcome, the bill of either the concert stage or, increasingly often, the dance tent. All hail Banter, say I, but with added and additional vim, as this release, number five, is the first to fully capture the myriad genies they chase, for reasons as will become apparent. Sure, the other four are good, but this is fricking great!

PARRY & HOLST AUGMENTED

It is Tim Walker’s trumpet we hear first, with some dark satanic peals from Jerusalem. One of an increasing number of trumpet playing drummers, it is this sound that is fast becoming the clarion call to Banter-fans, drawing them in from the far and distant fields. Nina Zella’s piano adds pastoral shades, before she starts the familiar strains of, nominally, the title track, Hard Times Of Old England. It is a striking opener, with tremendous backing vocals from Walker and Mark Jolley, whose bass and fiddle are elsewhere so now integral to the overall sound.

Listen hard and, yes, the squeeze of Simon Care’s melodeon is in there, rising slowly through the mix, in a slow swirl. A brief burst of Holst and Thaxted adds to the evocation of old England, the ironies then hammered all the more home by a new and additional verse: “When we’re raising our flag, it stands for us all, division and hate leads us only to war.”

THE FULL FOLKIE

Another standard of the canon is Black Jack Davey, again given a novel sheen that owes as much to the inventiveness of the quartet as the Mike Heron melody they hitch it to. Fiddle and box roister it along, with a lively rhythm kicking it down the road, from husband and wife, Walker and Zella, on drums and piano respectively. It is Walker taking the lead vocal and you cannot help but smile as he swaggers it along, abetted by Care’s abandoned squeeze.

Another polish up is offered to The Lowlands Of Holland and something is immediately apparent. Previously there was an occasional disconnect between Zella’s sometimes more structured vocals, redolent more of musical theatre or a smoky jazz bar. Each of which are fine, but she has secretly and subversively become the full folkie, with a timbre that stretches closer into the tradition the band are plundering, if still amenable well beyond.

INSTRUMENTAL MAYHEM

Instrumental mayhem has always been one of the sparks with which the band fly, and the medley Miss Thompsons and The Derry Reel is a perfect example. With Jolley’s fiddle and Care’s melodeon taking the lead, it is the rippling undercurrent of the Walker/Zella axis that provides equal pleasure. The sound is glorious flashback to the John Shepherd time in the Albion Band, courtesy those keys. Listen careful and there are some Dixieland/Sally Army on speed horns blasting away at the edges.

Albion Band you say? Well, you’ll recognise the macho delivery of I Was A Young Man, from the Country Band iteration of Hutchings’ ever moving feast. (Don’t forget that Care himself was another alumnus of that illustrious outfit.) Gruff manly vocals from Walker and Jolley punch it along, under Walker’s aggressively propulsive drums. Terrific, especially with one of Phil Beer’s tunes, The Leaving Of Wessex, to sail it off into the distance.

More trad.arr. next, and I’m loving it, as Zella channels Maddy Prior for an effervescent Sheaf And Knife, in an arrangement that would have suited that singer better, frankly, than the rather 90’s solo version Prior released. Lovely bass from Jolley, should you latch your ears thataway. Clearly the morris is and always has been Care’s closest love, so the paired volley of Thomas’ Morris and Chasing The Jack is naturally a highpoint. Do you remember the odd and old percussion that Dave Mattacks would often dig out for morris music, nakers and all that? Well, Walker applies something like that here.

ANYONE FANCY A GANSEY?

Wondering if I had frightened off Zella by my comments around her vocal style, she shows not so, with her first and only composition of the album, Seaman’s Gansey. In the style of a shanty, it’s every bit up to the standard of the older songs looted here. However, for reasons best known to the band, it is spoilt by the “witty asides” from the rest of the band. Irrespective the arguably risqué subject matter, it would have been so much better played straight, thereby giving better impact to that all too likely reality of maritime life. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

The contrast is then immense as the Banter Time Machine takes us back to Care’s Edward II days, with, dare I say it, even dubbier bass. This is for Haul Away, and features even some additional vocals from Tee Carthy, of said band (and nothing, as far as we know, with the Daddy of Robin Hood’s Bay).

ANOTHER THROWBACK

Another throwback to E II comes with a pair of melodeon tunes, the first, Brilliant Pebbles, coming from the late Rees Wesson, in their first Red Hot Polkas iteration. the second, Mampy Moose from latter-day member and Care cohort, John Hart. Both are splendid, and lead near seamlessly into New York Girls, combining aspects of both the Steeleye and Oyster versions. Jolley’s fiddle is, once more, on fire. This leads only time for a bit of a major opus, in that, as well as the studio recording, incorporates live performance from last year’s Banterfest (North.)

The song is John Tams’ venerable Rolling Home, since acquisitioned by the County Durham’s Wilson Family. As such, it is entirely fitting that the four brothers provide part the chorale, along with vocal trio Tethera and duo, Christina Aiden and Alex Patterson. And not forgetting the audience in central Lincolnshire. I guess it is designed as much a memento for anyone actually there, or anyone who has sung the song with Banter, or indeed with anyone else at all. It is indubitably charming, but lacks the wallop of the album elsewhere. (If it was called a bonus track, I’d have been kinder.)

BANTS AWAY

Snarks aside, this remains a super package and is still peak Banter for anyone needing an explore. If you love the band, you’l already have it, but if merely curious, it would be. great place to start.

Here’s Black Jack Davey, from this year’s Cropredy, with thanks to Tony Carsley:

Banter: Website

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