I realise I'm a bit late to this particular party, partly because while I might be listening repeatedly to something, I don't always feel I've got the audacity to write about it. Indeed it's unusual that I cover two releases by an artist in quick succession - because I figure that anyone who reads this with any regularity will probably get pretty bored with my enthusiasm rather quickly! However, this album has bucked the trend somewhat - partly because it's so impossible to pin down on a quick listen or two, and certainly because it's often so different to the EP I recently wrote about. To recap on the basic premise - King Post Kitsch is Charlie Ward, a producer, multi-instrumentalist and songwriter of not inconsiderable talent. Oddly, given the man's day job there is a conscious effort not to over-produce the music on this album - songs are left to fuzz out into sudden and inconclusive endings, and the hisses and crackles of real instruments and snatches of studio conversation fill the few moments of silence here. Wrapped in a cover which could be grisly urban reportage, or might just be someone searching for a lost pound coin - this varied and intriguing debut is just as hard to pin down at first.
After the opening stomp through "Portland St. Pt.2" and the fuzzy anthem which fronted the recent "Don't Touch My Fucking Honeytone" EP have been despatched, "The Werewolf Hop" starts with a sinister near-whisper before evolving into a swaggering, cranky horror film soundtrack, and ends with cheeky stabs of organ and loping, simian bass playing. In between it's joyous and fairly absurd at times, but it's also huge fun to listen to - and likely for the artist to play too. Buried somewhere in here is the manifesto for the entire record - "I don't need a reason/it just makes me happy" - which signals the inclusion of such a bewildering array of influences and reference points that recording them here would be futile. People tend to recommend that I listen to things they perceive as 'folky sounding stuff' which has always amused me given the breadth of my tastes and my allergy to a fair amount of folk music, but oddly it was this route that initially led me to King Post Kitsch. It took me a little while to figure out some of the earlier work I heard because it didn't fit the description at all, but here the more introspective, acoustic side of Charlie's output is reflected too - not least in "The New Gang" which is indeed gentle, glockenspiel propelled folk with nimble guitar picking and high, dreamy vocals. Also in this vein is the next single from the record "Fante's Last Stand", which is delicate and fragile - initially a world away from the fuzzy, scuzzy depths that King Post Kitsch sink to elsewhere on the album - but even this succumbs to a glorious squall of noise and filth towards the end.
There are probably never going to be enough songs about urban paranoia, but "Walking on Eggshells" is going to be a contender for one of the finest. An air of carefree, swinging 1960's London permeates the song with it's "ba-ba-ba" chorus and joyously heavy-handed Dave Clarke Five drumming. But the sinister lyric is buried in such unashamed guitar pop that it's not immediately evident quite how tense the mood of the song becomes. Perhaps to temper this edge there is room for some sparkly, nervy indie pop next in the form of "You Talk Too Much". It's chugging guitars and soaring choruses could be regarded as fairly conservative by the rest of the album's standards, but even this manages to surprise and confound, with a garage band guitar solo tucked somewhere inside just to keep us on our toes. The whole track bursts with enough enthusiasm and drive to fill an entire album of a lesser artist's material. Surprisingly quickly, things draw to a close with the melancholy organ throb of "Closing Time" which seems to be a tale of the last moments of drinking-up time in a bar - and somewhere here I begin to realise just how many ideas have been road-tested in this fairly concise album, and just how many of them have landed pretty much as intended. That's no mean feat at all.
King Post Kitsch had a life before being snapped up by Song, By Toad Records and that is reflected here in a number of tracks which have appeared on download-only EP releases previously. However, despite the patchwork of styles and tempos and the stitching together of new with older material, this forms a remarkably coherent and hugely satisfying album. The high points for me occur when King Post Kitsch heads full tilt into a fuzz of noise which hides a nugget of neatly concealed pop joy. There are countless moments like this - and for that reason alone this album is a compelling listen.
You can get hold of "The Party's Over" on CD from Song, By Toad, or as a digital download from iTunes or Amazon.
King Post Kitsch - You Talk Too Much
As is often the case with new music, my first listen to this long awaited album is on a train. This time though, despite the threat of summer arriving earlier in the week, I'm travelling under brooding, leaden skies. It's a bitter morning in more ways than one, and somehow once again the right music finds me just when I need it. In this case music that is capable of indulging my glowering bad temper, but also of lifting the spirits and inspiring action. Song Of Return are assembled from a fairly high quality kit of parts - based initially around the feted but now defunct electro outfit Union Of Knives, members of several other notable acts feature including perhaps surprisingly Louis Abbott of Admiral Fallow. This range of talent makes "Limits" a varied, ambitious and ultimately dazzling collection of music which explores both highs and lows
I'm struck initially by "Shackles" which I remember from a demo which has been knocking around on my iPod for a while. It occurred to me back then that it was almost perfect - and that any band that had recorded demos which sounded this complete was going to be pretty special. Sensibly, little has changed here - an aching, sweeping vocal is supported by guitar riffs which pile onto each other, ratcheting up the levels of noise further and further until things finally soar impossibly. It's an expansive, breathtaking piece of work, which showcases Song Of Return's ability to build music in a theatrical sense - providing a backdrop, setting a stage and then finally letting the action begin. This approach, whilst well-tested by a host of acts around currently, never gets tired in this case because Song Of Return do it incredibly well - without fuss, pomp or self-importance in any sense.
Next, there is a jagged electronic pulse at the core of "Concentric" - it's a stuttering, nagging song, with a wall of noise slipping in and out of focus which has a strangely orchestral quality. Joined by what sounds like a choir of children, the main vocal is edged into the background, leaving the wash of noise and disembodied voices to push the song to it's quiet, electronic ending. Biology was always my least favourite subject at school, and initially the title of "Story of a Cell" makes me think of interminable afternoons watching a Science teacher being ritually humiliated by a class pointing at pictures of the human reproductive system. However as "Concentric" quietly ebbs into the dirty, distorted bassline which slinks through this track, the cry "if I am singular how can I rebel?" strikes a chord. It's all working towards a chorus buried in duelling squealing guitars while the vocal insists 'you choose to let your ship go under now' as the song disintegrates, with practically only the drums remaining.
"One Million Hertz" opens via a gentler, understated entrance with a low murmured voice which intones an apocalyptic but weirdly optimistic lyric. The music is little more than a distant drone, except for a repeated piano refrain and sweeps of distant guitar. As the vocals soar, the composition starts to disassemble until there is little more than the voices remaining until "Anniversary" arrives via low, melancholy piano melodies, with a wash of guitar noise and distant distorted vocals. The urgency increases and echoing beats enter the growing maelstrom, but unusually it's the deep, darkening piano which heralds the explosion and not the all-too-easy big guitar ending this time. But when it lands, it's utterly massive as the bass performs somersaults beneath everything. Listening to this on headphones is a staggering, draining and emotional experience. But the album reaches its pinnacle for me on "Trajectory". Starting with a drone of organ and a desperate and insistent vocal, it builds through layers of throbbing bass and pulsing drums until it reaches a point where it's capable of spinning off with its own momentum. The first time I listened to it, again on a train but under sunnier skies this time, it all clicked strangely into place with its refrain of "I'm on a course/and the track is set/and it's leading me way out of my depth". I'm not sure how sensible it is making life-changing decisions based on the chance hearing of music at just the right moment - no doubt I'll write here and let you know how that pans out...
In a year of impressive and inventive records, "Limits" already stands out as something very special - cinematic and ambitious like few albums of this nature, sometimes punishingly loud, but also often dark and oblique - this album is open to endless re-interpretation. Capable of seismic noise alongside lighter, more delicate touches Song Of Return have stumbled across a formula which has eluded a whole slew of acts which have gone before. While the music of a lot of bands which attempt to produce wide-angle, epic and expansive rock gets misappropriated to clumsily soundtrack 'goal of the month', it's going to be tricky to do this with something as layered, intelligent and occasionally brutal as this.
Both physical CD copies and downloads of "Limits" are available at Bandcamp. You can also find it on iTunes.
Song Of Return - Shackles
My relationship with the West Somerset Railway is a troubled one. Despite it being my local preservation group, and a fairly successful one at that - I've not got along with the way it's run lately. My obvious beef is that Diesel doesn't get a look in very often on the WSR, and when it does it plays second fiddle. This is despite a fairly ambitious group based at Williton who do a fine job, only to see their charges rusting unused for a great deal of the time. Add to this the slavish drive for authenticity which seems to effectively bar anything in Rail Blue and certainly most things English Electric in origin, and I suppose we're just not going to agree. So, today was the first time I've been to the West Somerset in it's own right for nearly six years. In the interim I've attended a couple of beer festivals and the odd family event with my nephews, but in terms of spending my hard earned cash on the railway, it's been a long while. The occasion was their "Mixed Traffic Weekend". It's a mealy-mouthed attempt to hide the diesel gala from the turn-up-and-go punters who want steam. I'm not sure why they do this because at several points today I was asked by clearly disgruntled normals "What does Mixed Traffic mean then?". Notably the Severn Valley and South Devon railways throw a steam diagram into their timetable for normals, which is mostly understood and tolerated by the cranks - so this policy feels a bit strange on the WSR's part.
Another attraction of this weekend's event was the special shuttle service operated by First Great Western. I've covered the track a couple of times before - not least the first time it was used after reopening, but the idea of an easy way to access the gala was appealing. Instead of keeping it simple, I decided to head to Bristol where the first shuttle of the day started. A non-stop run to Taunton, followed by a slow crossing of all of the mainlines before curving onto the branch at Norton Fitzwarren. Arrived at a busy Bishops Lydeard with 59103 and 59001 at the head of a train on the opposite platform, ready to depart with a curious ensemble of horns and bells attached to the front!
Shrewd organisation meant that you had to be here practically every day of the weekend to cover all the locomotives, especially the 59s. However, it was the line's own hydraulics which seemed to be drawing the crowds - with a few rather uncalled for exchanges from people who felt the modern engines should be here. Frustrating really, as it seems it's novelties like this which draw in the breadth of enthusiasts, and these events would simply not run just on specific niche groups turning out. Having said that, after a double-back to Lydeard using D1661 - a renumbered and repainted shade of the former 'North Star', we had a run with D832 which was running in all-over grey primer.
After a bite to eat in Minehead, and with the rain mostly holding off, we managed a couple of quick switchbacks via Blue Anchor - rather like at the 2005 gala in fact. This meant a couple of journeys behind Hymek D7017, before picking up 59001 and 59103 for the long trek back to Bishops Lydeard. Along the way we passed the Western, having failed on an earlier run being pulled into Williton. However, despite this setback things seemed to be running to time - and as we arrived to catch the last shuttle back to Taunton, D7523 was dropping on to the stock to make the run back in lieu of the Western.
Given it was a pleasant night, and because I wanted to ponder a little, I decided to do the final shuttle all the way back to Bristol again non-stop. Time for a coffee in the late evening sun before catching a train back home, retracing my steps. When this turned up at Temple Meads, I noted it was the curious and mysterious hybrid unit 153399 - made up of half of the fire-damaged 150221 and a stray Class 153, and so number to avoid it being sent where these single-car units aren't allowed to go. It had been a pleasant day of decent engines, good beer and fairly fine weather. Sometimes you don't have to travel miles to find these things...
It's a difficult question for the musician at the grass roots, and one probably best avoided much of the time: am I in this for credibility or success? It would be interesting to speak to some of today's giants who set out as bratty NME-bothering nobodies and now stalk stadiums, and to ask at what point the motivation flipped for them - if indeed they feel it ever did? It's always going to be an uncomfortable concept though, and I suspect that sneering claims of authenticity and credibility will always be held over people who are making it work in the business. So I said some fairly dismissive things about Alex Cornish once - I don't think I sneered but I did imply perhaps that he was less than sincere about what he did. But on "No Shore", Alex's third album, there is enough genuine sincerity evident to keep the entire music business afloat just a little while longer while us cynical bloggers get over ourselves. And if it's authenticity that we're really seeking, it's worth noting that Alex records the majority of this work at his home in Dunbar. Aside from some technical wizardry and instrumentation which isn't readily knocking around the house, he also appears to plays the majority of the instruments on the album. There's no shortage of songwriting craft on show here, and anyone who doubts the commitment or the talent here needs only to watch the recent Song, By Toad house gig where Alex performed a remarkable set with a string quartet in an Edinburgh living room. If Alex Cornish is in any business, it's the business of making sure the world gets to hear his songs, and I'm sure that's ultimately the reason every musician does this isn't it?
As if to prove this point, "Rely" sweeps in with a touch of the epic. Ushered in by pensive drums and piano, soon the sparingly used and never overbearing brass section begins to shimmer around the song, returning to give the ending a touch of New Orleans. On both this and the initial "Storm To Pass" Alex's vocal delivery in this rich, dark musical setting immediately reminds me of Mark Eitzel - he sounds almost defeated, but then stretches to reach near impossible notes. There is something utterly compelling to me in listening to an artist striving to deliver a song like this, and any pre-conceptions I had about this record already begin to crumble. Next, piano, reverb soaked vocals and a delicately plucked guitar outline the plan for "Open Your Eyes". This is a tune, and particularly a storming chorus which any of those huge stadium monsters would kill to get their hamfisted mits on, but in Alex's hands it remains a personal and simple effort - heartfelt, on a human scale, and never straying even close to the dangerous territory of self-importance.
There are however a couple of points on "No Shore" where I lose track of things a little in the dizzying array of musical riches on offer, and despite a promising cascade of piano at the outset, "Skyline of Paris" perhaps isn't so engaging and disappears into the background as a result. But the mood is restored by "Keep Focus" which adds a shuffling beat to an expansive ballad, driven by an insistent piano line and shored up with dramatic strings. It's clear by this point on the record that Alex Cornish has mastered the art of writing melodies which linger in memory long after the song has finished - and there are points in my day when I find myself re-running the hooks from "No Shore" in my head. This has to be some sort of mark of the success of any collection of popular music. Adding weight to this theory, "Always A Way" introduces a touch of radio-friendly country to the proceedings, but despite its evident accessibility and potential to reach all kinds of audiences who probably don't read down-at-heel music blogs like this, it remains one of the most interesting vocal performances on the record. The lyric appeals to me too, an age-old tale of a search for a sense of place, which manages to evoke the damp and blustery east coast of it's origins somehow. This will be a controversial viewpoint I'm sure, but at the outset "Breathe Slow" could be a Meursault song. There is something about it's echoing, sweeping vocals and picked banjo and guitar which suggests a not-so-distant kinship, despite the musical approaches employed being poles apart. The whistling mid-song plays a cruel trick by referencing "Always On My Mind', which gives me a weird but not by any means unappealing mind-picture of Neil Pennycook and Willie Nelson maybe one day sharing a stage.
Whatever this record is, it's far from background music - as the majority of Alex's songs here compete hard for your attention and refuse to let the listener off the hook without even just a little emotional engagement. Music designed to for easy listening depends on as little complexity as possible in order to exist just outside the concious attention of listeners, and this is far from that in the sense that it is layered with beautifully executed instrumentation, and full of engaging hooks and twists. The fact it is delivered with such polish and panache is, in itself significant. After all, there are two ways to approach the DIY ethic - by embracing and delighting in the rough edges, the pops and the crackles and letting the music stand as a document of the process, or of making the best of what is available and producing something which belies its humble origins, beating the big guys at their own game with solid hard work. Both are valid, and I never fail to be amazed at what musicians achieve on their own terms nowadays. But Alex Cornish has selected the latter and doesn't let the resources available to him limit his vision. Maybe after all there is something deeply subversive and ultimately very punk rock indeed about a guy recording in his house reaching the Radio 2 audience? If you love well-executed folk pop, have an ear for a tune and recognise a great voice then its worth giving Alex Cornish your attention. You've nothing to lose except your preconceptions, and plenty to gain. If someone as stubborn and old as I can get over myself fairly publicly, then I'm damn sure you can...
"No Shore" is released on 13th June via Bellevue Records. You can find it on Amazon too.
Alex Cornish - Breathe Slow
Lost::MikeGTN
I've had a home on the web for more years than I care to remember, and a few kind souls persuade me it's worth persisting with keeping it updated. This current incarnation of the site is centred around the blog posts which began back in 1999 as 'the daylog' and continued through my travels and tribulations during the following years.
I don't get out and about nearly as much these days, but I do try to record significant events and trips for posterity. You may also have arrived here by following the trail to my former music blog Songs Heard On Fast Trains. That content is preserved here too.
