Following her debut EP ‘Playing Pretend’, Edie Bens turns up the tempo and increases the pop on new single ‘Poster Child’. The Welsh singer-songwriter returns with another tale of broken love, this time dissecting the returning ex whose life is a shadow of their former self. Bens tells the story with her usual frank honesty and acerbic irony, in lyrics fanned into flame by an electro-pop soundtrack with a Countryfied edge. This gives the song a new-found energy which, when combined with her observational style, quells emotional intensity in favour of hard-nosed fact. The lines “Sat in the White Rose / You tell me that it’s fine / But you’re drinking like your father / And crying like a child” then become caustic rather than empathic, in such a way as to feel anger at the situation in the context of a wider social problem, where mental health remains a stigma, especially for men. This is what makes Edie Bens’ songwriting stand out from the crowd. ‘Poster Child’ isn’t so much a put-down as a reflection that speaks to something deeper.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
As August turns to September, and the sun sets that little bit earlier, so the release of Maya Lane’s new single fits perfectly with the kind of self-reflection made for these cool-breeze evenings. The acoustic rendering with light pop production on ‘24F’ lifts the listener above pale-white clouds and into blue sky on both a literal and metaphorical level. Its expansive and dreamy soundscape transports you into the plane seat of the song’s title but the incidental lyrics cleverly convey a very different view out of the window. For “all the little mountains climbed / and all the lows that made the highs” present not so much a physical landscape as represent a mental and emotional journey through life. The verses are more evident about this, speaking of “window-seat reflections” that turn to memories of canteens, music lessons, and bathroom pep talks. Maya brilliantly captures that state of being we all find ourselves in from time to time, particularly when travelling, looking back and “making out the picture that I’ve drawn”. It’s what gives ‘24F’ a real point of connection, and confirms that her upcoming EP is going to be one that will speak rather deeply into the hearts of those who listen.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
The Family Wash is a collective not unlike Songs & Stories. In fact, the vocals of Paul Dunbar and Naomi Campbell are reminiscent of Tennessee Twin. That same easy listening Country/Americana defines their sound. It can be found right across their album ‘Dirty Laundry’, a record that works well with its vocal contrasts and traditional musicianship. It certainly has that Classic Country feel about it.
The opening bars of first track ‘I’ll Bring the Stars to You’ have a bit of a contemporary twist a la Luke Combs. The driving guitar and piano set the listener off down a gravel road with plenty of fuel in the engine. Things quickly slow down though once it gets going, ‘The Tide’ turning in more ways than one to bring the first of a number of contrasts on the album. The despair (made even darker by Dunbar’s bass-like vocal) doesn’t last long however as the light-hearted ‘Well, Obviously’ and head-bopper ‘I Don’t Want to Dance’ testify. They bring a gentle sway to proceedings in the way that only classic Country Music, with its acoustic guitar and pedal steel, can.
Sandwiched in between is ‘The Family Wash’, a metaphor laden with references to Country Music in its sound, sights and lyrics. The line “rinsing away memories of heartache… that soap wouldn’t touch / left stains upon our hearts” is perhaps the most evocative on the album, and when complete with aching fiddle and Dunbar’s deep vocal, it becomes a song with echoes of Johnny Cash storytelling. Indeed, the Man in Black is referenced in ‘I’ll See You in Jackson’, an alt-lovesong that, with the addition of Naomi Campbell’s voice, becomes a sweet, pensive tune in the style of her other band Motel Sundown. ‘Your Other Face’ has similar vibes, but ‘Catch of the Day’, with its honky-tonk sound, is a reminder that The Family Wash is always harking back to an earlier era.
It is this classic streak that runs through ‘Dirty Laundry’, underlined by the contrasts in the male-female vocal combos, and the use of fiddle, pedal steel and acoustic guitars, that makes for such a pleasurable listen. ‘From the Crowd’ is the perfect track to end, exemplifying an old-school beat with enjoyable rhythm.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
The Goudies are back with a brand new single. ‘L.A Never Leaves Me’ is an ode to the Californian city that they spent a short time in but that made a great impression on them. The lyrics are steeped in longing and affection for its “shores” and “greener grass”, so much so that it writes like a romance. The depth of this love affair is expressed most fully in the lines “I see her in the mountains / and look for her in towns”. Along with “I never really liked the cold”, it does a good job of evoking their present Welsh landscape while seeking after that “something more” which lies beyond, captured in their hearts. This gives the song a spiritual as well as emotional dimension, lending weight to what I think becomes the pivotal line: “L.A never leaves me / I have to wonder why”. When coupled with the dreamy score, it really impresses on the listener the impact the place has had on Beth and Sam. It makes it mark on us like LA has left its mark on them.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
Head east out of Liverpool City Centre and you will come to a suburb called ‘Tuebrook’. The title of John Jenkins’ new album is partly inspired by this place, its artwork a two-up, two-down, red-brick home on one of its streets, familiar to anyone with a connection to this part of the North West. It is where the singer-songwriter grew up, making this a semi-autobiographical record. Containing snapshots of the people and places that he remembers, he also combines fictitious elements nevertheless inspired by this location. All told in a very stripped back style, his songs become intimate stories that are keenly felt. You don’t have to have been to Tuebrook to experience it for yourself.
It is the incidental details in the lyrics that make ‘Tuebrook’ such an interesting listen. Whether the “Road to Nowhere” highway that had such a devastating impact on local places, or the “dirty faces, sore knees…, scrubbing our hands in margarine” of childhood shenanigans, both ‘Shadows’ and ‘Christopher Roberts’ evoke situations and circumstances that are specific, but speak to something more universal. The former really does convey something of its first word, “discontented”, pushing it to the verge of despair. The only thing that stops it, and the album, from falling into an abyss is the soft, wispy vocal of Jenkins himself. There is a ray of hope always in his delivery; understated but present at all times. It contributes to a lovely reworking of ‘Wayfaring Stranger’, the lines changed absolutely while the tune remains to create ‘Idaho’. It is the most Country-sounding track on the album but doesn’t feel out of place despite its geographical difference.
The rest of the album is mostly steeped in Americana, though evocative of Paul Heaton & Jacqui Abbott’s folk-pop, but without the heavy production. Most of the time it is just Jenkins and his guitar, who will perhaps pick up the tempo now and again (‘Passing Time’) but mainly sails across calm waters. The subject matter may cause a ripple, like the piercing final verse on ‘43 & Counting’ – “And I feel so old / Silence has spread through this house and my soul / Separated like a leaf from its tree”. It doesn’t last though, as the light jazz on ‘Child’s Sense of Wonder’ for example, brings a playfulness that, on this occasion, is also ground in recognition. Jenkins’ songs always feel close to home, achieved most readily through a refusal to unfold his tunes into heavy pop production. Add in a wistful voice full of reflection, and they become as inviting as those of Suzanne Vega. None more so than ‘Lost in the Storm…’.
The final track, ‘Mr Ford’s Hardware Store’, truly grounds the listener in a reminiscence of a bygone age. Sung by children to give it that extra taste of memory, it fits perfectly with the loose concept of this album, bringing to life an area still fondly held by John Jenkins. Tuebrook may not be well-known beyond its Liverpool locality but it is honoured rather beautifully here by one of its most musically-talented proteges.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
Songs on the loss of childhood innocence hit me harder these days. Since turning 30 I’ve done a lot of self-reflection on adulthood so far and hankered after simpler times in the wake of unmatched expectations and life choices. So hearing Jeorgia Rose speak about such things on her latest single ‘Boxes’ has been a cathartic experience. Much like ‘Girl Who Didn’t Care’, by Tenille Townes, it looks back on the carefree and uninhibited younger self. While both celebrate this persona however, Townes’ song contains an element of hope which ‘Boxes’ seems to be lacking. For Jeorgia Rose appears to be mourning her passing without any hint that “she’s still in there somewhere”, to quote Tenille. The simple and sensuous pop elements of the production add to this sense of sadness, as contentment gives way to self-consciousness and concern replaces assuredness. It is a much more fragile expression of the theme, which makes its vulnerability more potent. Certainly, the central image of the compartmentalisation of life into boxes resonates keenly, with an honesty that resembles kinship. So as much as Tenille Townes offers the possibility of redemption, there is something about its absence in ‘Boxes’ that allows Jeorgia Rose to offer a different sort of comfort. One in which she meets you where you’re at, and gives recognition to how you feel; looking back fondly on the past even as a return to it is out of reach.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
Mikki Evans turns from pop to rock on her latest single ‘Watch Me’. The Country artist shows another side to her music with this low-toned, dirt-road offering. The presence of electric guitars and heavy drumbeats add significant attitude to deliver a strong statement of intent. It is made at the very start in the lines, “They said I was a weak one / never be someone / funny how the table’s turned”, and continues likewise into a chorus full of defiance. Two images in particular stand out: “watch me lose control / like the meanest bull at the rodeo” and “I’m as free as the air you breathe”. Both lines convey the strength of self-belief well; the refusal to be put down by those who seek to “drown my dreams in gasoline”. Instead, Mikki uses such fuel to make the passion inside her burn stronger, making this song an anthem for the denigrated and disparaged.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
It is the things that Demi Marriner does say on her album ‘The Things We Didn’t Say’ that make it such a pleasure to listen to. Lots of lovely lyrics – whether single lines, paired rhymes or whole choruses – that wheedle their way into the ear. Wrapped in the broad genre of Americana, they sit neatly as a collection of emotional portraits. Love, regret, hope and loss are all on display on a record that finds her voice front and centre. She is a woman of words, and how beautifully does she put them together.
No doubt influenced by Elles Bailey, for whom Demi is a backing singer, opening track ‘Sins’ begins with an infusion of Gospel-Blues. The low basslines and high-pitched slides of the first minute’s instrumental sets the scene nicely for the potential that bubbles in a relationship where “troubles at the door / and I’m thinking about letting it in / but are you worth my sins?” This theme carries loosely into ‘Distorted Desires’, already a hit single, largely because its chorus is something special. A winning mixture of acoustic rhythm, lyrical arrangement and vocal dexterity make it so. But it’s also the gentle confidence with which its told that elevates it to a plain on which its deconstruction of forbidden love is unequivocally achieved. It matches the emotional heft of ‘Little Boy’, but in a very different way. For though both songs could be considered a form of encouragement, the basis of ‘Little Boy’ is advice rather than challenge. Written after the birth of her cousin, Demi pours the lessons of life into this track with sagacious enthusiasm. The subtle shift from “you won’t…” to “we don’t…” that precedes the line “…always get it right the first time” shows a shared vulnerability which makes for a sweet and poignant message.
There is also a poignancy to the other family-inspired song on the album. ‘Mother’ is the first of two that have graduated from her ‘Dandelion’ EP, this being a gently anthemic celebration of a pivotal figure in Demi’s life. Fragility is not shied away from; in fact, it serves to strengthen the bold images in its chorus. These range from “a robin floating in the breeze” to “a flower in a field of trees”, “a lighthouse to guide a sinking ship” and “a fighter for what she didn’t get”. Such descriptions are as uplifting as they are moving, and sit comfortably alongside a growing canon of maternally-inspired material, including ‘Mamas’ by Anne Wilson and ‘Mother’ by Kacey Musgraves.
The track that follows, ‘Don’t You Worry’, also has a mother-daughter relationship vibe. It is also unashamedly old school Country, especially in its sound. The simplicity to this toe-tapping arrangement brings a warm smile of appreciation before the familiarity of Demi’s signature tune, ‘Cold Coffee’, invites it to stay. The song still possesses one of the best lines in UK Country Music – “You’re like cold coffee / you tasted better the first time around” – told with a deftness that renders it sublime. Only ‘The Light’ could follow it as a fitting final track, with a rousing orchestral finale that brings the curtain down on an album with much to say. The artwork on the cover is reminiscent of ‘Sounds Good in a Bar’ by Katy Hurt. And many of these songs will. For Demi Marriner is a gifted storyteller and songwriter, of the same class as both Bailey and Hurt.
Like what you read? Purchase some beautifully-designed merch from Demi’s website here.Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
Even as the multifaceted nature of Kezia Gill’s music is revealed on her new album ‘Misfit’, there is no sense that the songs contained within it are at odds with each other. That doesn’t mean that it isn’t surprising but it is far from jarring. Different genres blend together nicely. Styles weave seamlessly in and out. There may not be a single definition for it musically but that is exactly part of its appeal. It’s an album that seeks to portray the “bit of everything” that makes Kezia Gill who she is. And it does just that in her own distinct way.
The title track opens up proceedings in a suitably rock-heavy style. Kezia announces with confidence that “I finally know my place”, among those who don’t feel like they fit, or can be put into a box. Its message is uplifting; relatable or encouraging depending on individual circumstance. Not to say that comparisons cannot be made. The popular single ‘Whiskey Over Ice’, an arena-worthy tune with a lyrical emphasis even as it is surrounded by guitars, has strong Ashley McBryde vibes. And the piano-led ballad ‘Like I Did Before’, with the line “I don’t know what happy is” hitting like an emotional bullet, is reminiscent of Megan O’Neill at her vulnerable best. Start to understand her though, and a song like ‘Tonight’ comes along as a reminder that she evades easy classification. In this instance, it throws a curveball through the presumption that Kezia Gill is a powerhouse vocalist. The softness of her voice here is totally unexpected, even as it suits the Folk-style arrangement. She is nothing if not versatile.
‘House on the Hill’ is a high-point on this album (no pun intended) from a Country point-of-view. Not only does it carry a lovely guitar riff throughout but it tells a story of home that is utterly endearing. Much like ‘Dime Store Cowgirl’ (Kacey Musgraves) reflects on the inherent roots of identity, so this track finds that the journey always leads back to whence it came. In this case, it is to a “holly tree and our number on the door” – imagery that is as compelling as the narrative. It is where Kezia Gill finds her true self: the one behind the performer. A house of contentment, one might conclude, in contrast to Miranda Lambert in ‘The House That Built Me’.
‘Smokey’ reminds listeners that the hard, head-banging Blues to which she is accustomed still exists in her wide-ranging repertoire. The guitars then slide nicely into ‘Sweet Spot’, presenting more of the same but with a chorus so instantly memorable, it is ripe for audience interaction. Throw in ‘No Idea’, with its comedic honesty and light irony, and this section of the album harks back to the ‘Dead Ends and Detours’ EP which first announced her on the scene. Her stock has risen considerably since, and no wonder, given the quality of songwriting, not only on the latter but the final two songs on the album. ‘Price of Loving You’ is a complete gear change, emotionally-charged in its message of sacrificial love. Meanwhile, ‘Dear Me’ is a highly reflective note-to-my-younger-self, an acoustic wonder made more so by the musing violins.
It brings to a close an album on which Kezia Gill has found her place in the world, and the industry, embracing every facet of her musical being to be a ‘Misfit’ who fits perfectly in the in-between.
Like what you read? Support me in supporting the work of artists and creators by donating to my tip jar here.
There is a lengthy queue forming way before the doors open on Amy-Jo’s hometown show. People are packed like sardines in the entrance, clearly eager to take a seat in the quaint hall of the Gregson Arts and Community Centre. I catch bits of their conversation from my seat in the bar opposite, discovering that they are a heady mix of family, friends, and supporters from the wider community. One or two appear to have stumbled across it on the off-chance – “I hadn’t realised there was a singer on tonight” – “I saw the advert” – “Are there still tickets available if I pay now?” Such are the roots of the independent musician’s story, and Amy-Jo is no different. Yet as much as growing a fanbase is hard-won, I suspect, given the performance that ensues, that those new to her music will not have taken much convincing that she is indeed a rising star.
For beneath the wooden beams and cream-coloured walls of this community venue, Amy-Jo exudes a professionalism that warrants a much bigger platform. She strides onto the stage with unassuming confidence; bright and breezy; and greets the audience with an effervescent smile. It seems she is in part delighted, in part overcome by the turnout, but also, in another sense, simply coming as herself. There is no façade to her performance style. The way she greets and has photos taken with those afterwards proves that. And this sense of unbroken identity is also captured in the songs that she sings. Not only in respect of her original material but her chosen covers too. She stamps her heart on each one, with a style that is inclusive of Country, Pop and Soul.
Set-opener ‘Love Before the Internet’ captures a certain vintage vibe underlined by the chic dress worn by Amy-Jo throughout. She is, in many respects, an “old head on young shoulders”, with a mature storytelling prowess that is encapsulated in a very modern musical sensibility. Tracks like ‘Coming Close’ and ‘Shoulder Pads’ exude this sense of contemporary classic, while her unique take on ‘Dreams’ (Fleetwood Mac) and ‘Jolene’ (Dolly Parton) is like old wine being poured into new wineskins. The strained vocal in which she presents the latter is particularly noticeable in its interpretation, bringing a sadness, almost of despair, not obvious or so overt in the original.
The supreme comfort with which these well-known songs sit alongside material from her debut EP, ‘Songs from the Bay’, is a measure of how accomplished she has become in the craft of songwriting. This is epitomised in the closing numbers of her set: latest single ‘Caught Me on a Bad Day’ is as inducing as Maroon 5’s ‘This Love’. Before this, a piano-led section features an extra show of vulnerability, as the tears flow from ‘Someone You Can’t Let Go’, a heartfelt ballad dedicated to her Grandad. Meanwhile, a special request for The Proclaimers ‘500 miles’ sees kids congregating at the front to join in, following an exclusive performance of ‘Young in Love and Broke’ which has the audience transfixed.
It is no wonder that so many came to watch their local talent and responded with such applause at the end when they are this good. Amy-Jo may be just getting started as a hometown headliner but she has the ability to make an impact far beyond her Lancastrian home.
Like what you read? Listen to Amy-Jo’s ‘Songs from the Bay’ EP on Spotify here.
desperatelylostcity.com 