50 not out, Simpson is staying at the crease and this lavish 2 set disc spells out exactly why.

HERE’S TO THE NEXT 50

With most established artists slowly cutting back on their work programme, isn’t it funny how others, as the years accumulate, get ever more prolific, pumping out entire Indian summers of material, with a new one appearing almost whenever anyone turns a back.. Simpson is certainly one of these latter, although, to be fair, output has never been much shortcoming over his 50 years of recording. Yes, that the jubilee this is some sort of. To demarcate that line in the sand, as he seems to eschew any overt celebration as such, this double set visits both the songs he grew up with, as well as revisiting a handful of previous recordings, if here supplied in shiny brand new bib and tucker.

A double set, here are included 8 on each disc. In the enclosed booklet, Simpson explains his introductions to music and song as a child, detailing the specifics of some of the songs he has chosen to visit here, and why. He is also more than effusive in his thanks to those who helped this record be made, to the contributing musicians and to the myriad influences making up his style, many of whom became his friends. And, tellingly, to his manicurist, Amy, at Halo Nails, for that unenviable responsibility for maintaining the integrity of his picking capability.

MUCH AVAILABLE JOY

We’ve heard disc 1, track 1 before, it leaking out, as a single, some weeks ago. This is the imperious new version of old stalwart, The Recruited Collier, which, amongst much other available joy, reveals the pleasures released when Simpson’s guitar meshes with cello and pedal steel guitar. Liz Hanks provides the former, with deep and rich tones, but the real exhilaration is to appreciate it is Greg Leisz on the latter, a partnership surely made in heaven. Or maybe at Jackson Browne’s gaff, spotting the thanks to the These Days hitmaker, in the notes, he seemingly arranging the liaison. This version, despite the still relatively new and shiny polish, is so rich and deep as to be fashioned from aged mahogany, as Simpson’s weathered voice seeps around the lush instrumentation.

Handsome Molly, originally by Mike Seeger, sees just Simpson on solo guitar and voice duty, and is a rolling and leisurely fol-de-rol of no small charm, which transcends the banjo version Simpson delivered on Grinning In Your Face, back in 1983. Doing the math, I wonder whether Molly Simpson, the singer’s daughter, might have this song to thank for her name? Followed by Mary Hamilton, this was apparently one of the 2 songs that Simpson learnt to play for his faltering first folk club performances. Again, the cello of Hanks gifts the arrangement with majesty, with up and coming guitar maestro, Louis Campbell, adding his electric picking to Simpson’s acoustic, as he does whenever the sound of amplified guitar appears. Which is often.

WEARIED REALISM

Except, that is, for The Grey Funnel Line, where the two reverse roles, Simpson plying possibly one of his telecaster style customised conversions. The classic Cyril Tawney song gets a downbeat and doleful delivery which suits well the subject matter, with Simpson wearied tone perhaps more realistic than Emmylou, Linda and Dolly. Leisz sears in as the second verse unfolds, with Hanks’ cello not far behind. The bass, here and on the opening track, comes from Ben Nicholls’ big ‘n’ boomy stand-up. It is grand.

As is Richard and Linda Thompson’s Down Where The Drunkards Roll, another song Simpson is paying a return visit too. Here he is, broadly, reprising the rendition given at the launch of Linda Thompson’s Proxy Music launch show, despite it not being included on the album. The aforementioned Molly gets to sing bvs, along with Emily Portman, and no less than the boy Zak Hobbs, the Thompson’s grandson, now supplying the electric guitar duties

WRACKED AUSTERE GLORY

Swapping to banjo, Simpson gives a masterful new polish to his own Ruby Bridges, with Campbell adding a curiously effective wiry clatter effect to his electric, that sitting perfectly next to the more fluid tumble of banjo textures. More Leisz, Hanks and Nicholls too. this gets followed by a devastatingly sweet Victor Jara, dedicated to Dick Gaughan, with Gaughan-esque tones inescapable in Simpson’s voice. Hobbs adds baritone guitar and the Simpson/Portman pairing, I swear, sounding for all the world like the Karine Polwart/Julie Fowlis dream team. This first disc then rounds out with the first of two versions of Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child, an instrumental version, on slide, and stretched out, in wracked austere glory, over six plus minutes.

Time to swap discs, and Love Never Dies, another Simpson revision/revisit, from when he was still spending as much time in the US as over here. It sounds much older and cracked than on the original, 25 years ago, in part perhaps down to a borrow of Jackson Browne’s vintage pre-war guitar, although the oak barrelled maturity of Simpson’s timbre is equally responsible. (The casual Jackson “thought I would like it and I did“, from the sleeve notes is marvellous.) Hide sounds ancient, with curlicues of rolling acoustic, and indeed is, the song that first drew Simpson’s attention to Emily Portman, through her own version. Clearly, being present, she adds her vocals, again alongside Molly S.

SOLITARY SHINE BRIGHTEST

Despite the luxurious sound of the various band versions here, it is still when Simpson is unaccompanied that he shines brightest. This is exemplified by a cracking cover of Leon Rosselson’s William. Mind you, you can’t go far wrong with a halfway house, as Simpson bottleneck note bends exquisitely for Toy Soldiers, with skeletal cello scaffolding and sparse additional electric. A reminder of how good was Murmurs, Simpson’s collab with Any Cutting and Nancy Kerr, it is a hauntingly gaunt rendition. I had always thought Icarus one of Simpson’s, not least given the mix of melody and narrative, not a million miles from Never Any Good, perhaps his signature own composition. So it was a surprise it was written actually by Ann Lister. Regardless, with just voice, guitar and Leisz’s steel, it is another of the several moments on this album, not least the closing line.

No chance of mistaking Dylan’s Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright, it immediately apparent from the intro, however much embellished it with flying fingers. It sounds exactly as you’d expect Simpson plays Dylan to sound. Which is a compliment, with Campbell then reprising that jangly rattly tone on electric. More solo gold, now, for Survivor, a song from the small canon of songs about Dutch Elm trees. The sleeve notes reference Simpson’s old buddy Chris Packham, familiar from their shared interest in the natural world, and Skydancers, where it first appeared. Of course, whilst praising the fabulous fingers of Mr S, praise is also due to the, as ever, meticulous and pristine production of Andy Bell, he bringing even the better, even from the very best.

DUET MASTERCLASS

Take 2 of Motherless Child closes the album, knocking, may I say, the earlier into touch, a further showcase for the Simpson/Leisz masterclass in duet play. It is absolutely splendid. Leisz has played with just about everyone, including, on the guitar front Richard Thompson and Bill Frisell. I wonder where he would place Simpson. I think I know where I would. 50 not out, what an innings, with no signs of any unexpected googly yet, either.

Don’t Think Twice, here just Simpson, recorded for the Turnstone Guitar Co.:

Martin Simpson: Website

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