There is nothing like a solo trip across the Deep South to reignite a passion for music. Emily Ireland’s fire had seemingly died due her experiences of sexism and misogyny in the industry. But now she’s back with a blaze of alt-country swagger, starting with new single ‘Yoko One is Seven Years Older Than John’. Under her pseudonym See Emily Play, the Sheffield-born singer-songwriter has slotted plenty of references to Country Music’s heartlands in a wonderfully-constructed narrative tale of unexpected love. From being “alone in the Jungle Room” at Graceland to “when I woke with you in a motel room” in Nashville, she takes us on a rock-fuelled journey through a whirlwind romance. The rather strange title offers context for what seems to be a defining characteristic of a relationship which is also serenaded by the traditional twang of guitars. “I did not know… yet / [but] I was at the start of something new” capture, in words, the reason for the track’s liveliness. These lines also feel representative of the arc to her own personal story. With an EP on the way very soon, if this single is a sign of what is to come, then it will surely have been the right decision to return.
Whilst the city that is Glastonbury was partying to the sound of Coldplay, the village of Thornton Hough was celebrating the songwriting talent of Katie Nicholas. To mark the halfway point in her ‘Songwriter Diaries’, a year-long YouTube series charting her musical journey so far, this headline gig saw those nestled in the cosy and accommodating venue treated to a set far removed from the glossy pyrotechnics of the Pyramid Stage. Despite the lack of sleek spectacle, it was a lovely reminder from the Liverpudlian of the power of music at the grassroots level. Its magic isn’t just reserved for the big festivals.
She was joined here by Astles whose support slot was the ideal warm-up given his wonderfully reflective style of songwriting. Peppered in between with dry humour, his songs were suitably mellow for a crowd listening intently; shot through with a melancholic vocal that made ‘In the Rain’ and ‘Little Boat’ heartrending yet hopeful. Katie then subtly transformed the atmosphere with her opening track without losing any of the emotional depth he had carved out. In fact, the lovely, bubbly Folk of ‘Space and Time’, when combined with the pensive thoughts of ‘Sitting Ducks’, ensured a like-minded continuum between the two artists. They complimented each other well.
Katie admitted that the reason for her current project was to try and say goodbye to her past songs whilst also honouring them. She has talked previously about shedding her skin in order to begin a new chapter, but in trying to “stop gabbing” in between songs is to lose part of her charm in live performance. The moments when her dad blows a kazoo from the front row, she admits “I’m nervous” before playing ‘I Love You Cause I Hate You’, and the reason why ‘Jolene’ by Ray LaMontagne means so much to her, provide the humour, vulnerability and circumspection that help her, as both an artist and a person, make a connection to her audience. The result is both a more affecting set and a noticeable level of comfort on her part.
As the light fades outside, the stage illuminates an intimate red that wraps her solo performance of ‘I Love You Cause I Hate You’ in the fragility of the song’s tragic tale. An impromptu reading of her recently-written poem ‘Afraid of the Flame’ leads to eyes becoming unexpectedly tearstained. The technical difficulties that accompany the start of ‘Dizzy’ are dealt with so calmly as to lift this fun song to another level of enjoyment. And as Robert Vincent joins her and Ana Corcoran on stage to sing his song ‘You’re Standing Right Before Me’, one last burst of natural light brightens the back of the room, as if to encapsulate visibly the energy pulsating from the trio, such is their connection to each other. All are moments that, in this context, produce a different but no less special kind of experience to that found on the hallowed turf of Worthy Farm.
The high point in my experience of seeing Katie Nicholas live remains that night in the Nordic Church. Her appearance at the Royal Philharmonic at the end of last year comes a close second. Meanwhile, this latest episode seems to find her at the end of some sort of beginning. The page is turning. But first, time to give credence to what has been. For it will likely become the foundation for what is to come.
Click here to find out more about the ‘Songwriter Diaries’.
Lost Boys and Fairies is a very moving piece of television. Created and written by Daf James, it is both heartwarming and heart-wrenching. He draws on his own experience of the adoption process to tell the story of Gabe (Sion Daniel Young) and Andy (Fra Fee) who, as potential parents to a little boy called Jake (Leo Harris), journey through the highs and lows of what is an illuminating and very affecting narrative. So much so that it sometimes hits a little too close to home.
Daf James
One of the reasons for its potency lies in the performances of the cast. Young and Fee are suitably matched as the central couple, bringing charm and warmth to their characters but in very different ways. Through their initial meetings with social worker Jackie (played with effervescent forbearance by Elizabeth Berrington), Andy appears easy-going and comfortable whilst Gabe is defensive, with an assurance that suppresses a very dark backstory. The latter becomes the protagonist in many ways, through an arc that forces him to face his demons and accept himself. His relationship with his father is key here. William Thomas portrays the emotionally-restrained, chapel-going Emrys with understated gentleness. It is the tiny cues in his body language and softness of voice that unearth a kind and considerate man whose attempts to interact with his son are compassionately flawed. The contrast between the grey skies above his drearily-decorated farmhouse in rural Wales and the vibrant colour inside the Cardiff nightclub where Gabe works could not be more marked. Yet they remain in touch, conversing in Welsh in a way that feels natural, unlike the deliberately inclusive bilingualism of a Hinterland or Hidden.
For all its verisimilitude, the series makes clever use of magical realism. The inclusion of musical elements at once hyperbolises, celebrates and subverts its subject matters. It leads to flashbacks being presented in a fresh and surprisingly non-superficial way. It adds a touch of the absurd to make emotionally intelligible what might otherwise be elaborate or nihilistic. It queers the conventional to emboss the dramatic nature of the storyline with pensive irony. Ultimately, its contribution makes moments like Gabe and Andy’s first meeting with Jake all the more emotive; Gabe’s answers to the adoption panel, particularly the second time around, more revealing; and his meeting with Jake’s mother all the more tear-jerking. Gwyneth Keyworth may only appear in this penultimate scene of the series but her presentation of a boisterous but broken single parent is spellbinding. Specifically, how she encapsulates the range of attitudes and emotions across the length of their encounter, going from garrulous and domineering to kind and caring, fragile and vulnerable and deeply loving toward her son. It is heartbreaking but also, in the context of her interaction with Gabe, strangely uplifting.
Given that Leo Harris is starring in his first major role here, his portrayal of Jake is fantastically well-rounded and hugely empathetic. Opposite Young and Fee he embodies a mischievous yet lovable child with realistic aplomb. Which makes Jake and Gabe’s connection over a dressing table simply wonderful. In addition to the silence and diegetic sound of birdsong, and the sunlight creeping into the room with them, it makes for one of the most beautiful pieces of television. Contrast it with the second episode’s unexpected ending and the description of Lost Boys and Fairies becomes ‘deeply moving’. It is a hard watch at times but also life-affirming. Prepare to laugh and cry and be fearfully and wonderfully broken.
Every single that Katy Hurt puts out simply heightens the anticipation for her album. ‘Oh Girl’ is no different even as it invites reflection. There is a calmness to its delivery and a softness to its touch. It treads carefully, gently probing feelings and emotions to unearth an unnamed experience. It’s ambiguous insomuch as its message could be to another or to self. But the allusion to mental health is potent.
“From where I see it /
you should be on top of the world /
but I can’t help you /
if you don’t want to help yourself”
Such lines call us to pause and ponder. Through its simplicity the song carries us on a journey towards new possibility but stops short of getting carried away. There is no neat or simple resolution. The result is a poignant and relatable truth, captured in the aching vocals and cry of the pedal steel. ‘Oh Girl’ is a work of tearful beauty of which Katy Hurt should be rightfully proud.
Amy-Jo’s new single ushers in a more multi-instrumental sound. ‘Young, In Love and Broke’ contains a gamut of genres to tell a story of love that, without getting too political, is set on the wrong side of the tracks. References to finance, housing and wellbeing read a little like the experience of many in a cost-of-living crisis, with the message here being that love overcomes. For “what use are possessions / if we’re each other’s obsession”, she asks, amidst a blues-style soundtrack that simultaneously relates to and elevates above the narrative. Circumstance becomes celebratory and conditions sacrificial in pursuit of a relationship that seems only to grow stronger, thanks in part to a very empathetic electric guitar. Her trusty acoustic combines with tinkling piano and heartfelt pedal steel to create a positive mood in the face of a trying situation. It all makes the central line “funny how it scares some folk / when you’re young, in love and broke” rather ironic. Yet the final word, spoken so plainly at the song’s end, which jars on a first listen, actually adds a sense of realism which means that, for all its whimsical musicality, there lies a real-world scenario at its heart. Amy-Jo as usual strikes the right balance between the two, as any accomplished singer-songwriter would, especially in the world of Country Music.
Taking a leaf out of Maya Lane’s book requires introspection and vulnerability. On ‘Diary of an Overthinker’, she opens up all of the pages to expose her deepest self. The result is an EP filled with wisdom, understanding, and acknowledgement of what it means to be human.
The precedent is set right from the opening line. “Me and my ego are falling out” encapsulates a highly original perspective from which to tell a story of a fraught relationship. ‘Bump Into Me’ contains various contradictions which brilliantly demonstrate the inability to escape the self. Add in a soaring pop production which enables a transcendental quality and the song carries with it a relevance that has the power to affect the listener greatly.
‘Heart for a Heart’ changes tack somewhat, not only in its Americana-style performance but in its thematic resonance. The first of two songs to tackle the issue of heartbreak, it is a revenge song of dramatic consequence. “I’ll follow you home with my lights turned off / and if you’re not alone I don’t think I’ll stop” darkly captures the extent of the hurt wrought in the protagonist that now wants to be let out. It is a far cry from ‘My Friends Were Right’ – a sad and fragile statement whose electrifying chorus consumes the central point that “I’m never going to get love” in this relationship. Despairing acceptance of the situation reigns here, as it does to some degree on ‘Never Be Like Her’. Except comparison is the source of such wrenching emotion. “No matter what I do / she does it better” is as helpless as it is hopeless. The Dido-like sound only contributes to its despondency.
The acoustic rendering of ‘Just a Girl’ belies its disruptive ability. Forget the opportunities for heartbreak mentioned earlier and instead grasp at the possibility of wholeness as an individual. Heteronormative coupledom is replaced by the genuine question “what I gotta fall in love for?” Each line delivers a soft but significant blow to the evangelists of romance; the rustic quality of the chorus assuring and assertive. In contrast, ‘Four Leaf Clover’ holds onto uncertainty, wrapped up in a dreamy piano and bouncy percussion. They speak to a more positive outlook for the future in spite of the hesitancy of the present.
This is what makes ‘24F’ a most suitable ending. For the self-examination within at the start of this EP now happens without. A sense of perspective from above is given which takes life as a whole, with “all the little mountains climbed / and all the lows that made the highs”. When it was originally released as a single, I wrote that “her upcoming EP is going to be one that will speak rather deeply into the hearts of those who listen”. What is perhaps more endearing is that she has delved deep into her own in order to do so.
Her unashamed exploration of humanity from a personal level, complete with thoughtful lyrics and carefully-crafted musical choices, makes ‘Diary of an Overthinker’ (without overthinking it) one of the best EPs of 2024.
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Walking into Strawberry Fieldsand hearing Motel Sundown sing about Memories, Dreams and Reflections felt a bit like a sign. I had been regrettably late up to that point, thanks to Sunday afternoon traffic and cancelled trains. But then to catch such a chorus floating on the breeze as I ventured into the place made famous by The Beatlescaused a rethink. For their words made me think back to the journey I used to do to Calderstones Park, just over the road, every week for a time. And with it a sense of gratitude that I had been able to retrace my steps. To take again the number 86 bus to Allerton Road and walk up to The Reader before carrying on to this newly-discovered destination.
Suddenly, the calm serenity of the place washed over me, along with the harmonies that Motel Sundowndeliver so well. My fifteen-minute delay then paled into insignificance and I was caught up in their tender and percussive musical style, thankful for the opportunity to simply be here as the memories continued to swirl. The trio always remind me of Fleetwood Mac. Listen to ‘Waterfall’ for instance and there are definite echoes of ‘Landslide’ within it. And as Robert Johnson’s harder vocal meets the softer sounds of Karen Turley and Naomi Campbell on ‘Eldorado’, comparisons with The Wandering Heartscome instantly to mind. Their set is over far too soon, completed by the slightly ironic ‘Winter Sun’, on a glorious June day in a chilly, shady clearing.
If any of the hugely appreciative crowd were finding it cold then Katy Hurt’s brand of Country-Rock was just the antidote. ‘The Kiss’ is very Shania in many ways whilst the cameras pointed and a few heads started to bang once ‘Revved Up’ got going. ‘See Ya Later’ offered a barnstorming finish to the afternoon but not before some of her more thoughtful songs commanded attention too. Upcoming single ‘Oh Girl’ was a beautifully reflective ballad, all the more so in such an intimate outdoor space as this. Meanwhile, ‘Unfinished Business’ held its usual spine-tingling poignancy, even as it held new meaning for me, causing me to shed a tear beneath the tall trees swaying over an empathetic sun.
For their first foray into one-off events, Black Deer Live seem to have struck gold. With plenty more to come right across the UK, this appears to be an exciting next adventure, branching out from their annual Festival walls. And as they look to new horizons so I looked back on those memories, dreams and reflections that began earlier in the day. To consider how far I’ve come in the last few years. To remember how anxious I was when first coming to Calderstones. And how attending live gigs like this has become such a natural and pivotal part of my life.
I came for the music but it seems Strawberry Fields wanted to give me something different and unexpected.
To find out more about Black Deer Live and their planned shows over the course of this year, click here.
‘Family’ is the rather apt title of David Woodman’s latest album. The accomplished strings player opens up this theme to encompass all kinds of permutations on a record that feels both inclusive and encouraging. Whether relationships, friendships, acquaintances, or strangers together through circumstance, the songs here all speak back to a foundation of love on which these connections rest; without which the definition of family could not truly exist.
The title track opens up proceedings and borrows Christian images to disrupt the traditional notion of what the definition of family is. To “make room at the table… breaking bread and sharing wine” is most obviously a reference to the Eucharistic idea that all are welcome as brothers and sisters to partake in the same meal. Such a gathering does not in itself constitute the notion of family however. Woodman immediately diverts attention the other way for ‘Get Away’. Here, the emphasis is on breaking free of familiarity and close bonding because “when everyone knows your name / it’s hard to start again”. Family is as much an expression of release and letting go as it is that place of protection and safety. Love affords this sense of freedom in order to discover if “tomorrow can be better than you know”, while at the same time existing in the kind of stable and steady relationship talked about in ‘Seasons’. After two tracks where the strings flourish, the delicate simplicity of this arrangement offers a touching moment of reflection. Here, love is hard won and continues to grow in spite of the challenges which, even in the face of a more stereotypical family set-up, still exist.
‘One More Reason’ faces trials and difficulty head on from a different perspective. It offers support and encouragement on a very basic level, and with a great degree of relatability, becoming a friend in the face of anxiety. ‘Stay Strong Our Kid’ does similar, powerfully presenting its central point of defiance through playful piano and sympathetic guitar. In between, the gently sweeping Folk of ‘Flying Solo’ contrasts with the thrusting beat of Blues-based ‘Rolling Down This Road’. Only the romantics can relate to the former’s parting of ways for a period, whereas the latter speaks universally of life as a journey, which for most often feels like “rolling down… a narrow way”.
The Tim McGraw-esque ‘Be Human Be Kind’ draws beautifully on human fragility to inspire us to “be the reason someone smiles”. Such a gorgeous message deserves valued listening, and is followed by a banjo-busting double consisting of a hymn-like instrumental ‘Around the Fire’ and bluegrass ode to ‘A Simple Life’. The final track, ‘The First Step’, completes this uplifting collection, with a push to “walk the talk” after having “been too long standing still”. Its closing instrumental feels emblematic of the start of this journey towards action, motivated by a desire to stop being a passive spectator to hopes and dreams and begin chasing them instead. Such words might be spoken by David Woodman the musician but, if they become the reality by which we as listeners then live, he becomes to us a representation of the kind of family of which he speaks. A family to which we can all belong.
Never has an album title been so succinct in summing up what it’s all about.
You can order ‘Family’ by David Woodman on his BandCamp page here. It is set for release on June 28th 2024.
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Our Atlantic Roots have dug deep into the heritage of their Cornish home for ‘Memories Live On’. Their fourth EP is firmly rooted in the English Folk tradition, steering them away from Americana towards a homegrown sound. Opening track ‘Medhel an Gwyns’ epitomises the rootedness of this latest offering, famed for its inclusion in the BBC’s Poldark series. Unlike Eleanor Tomlinson’s version though, the duo present a far more wistful interpretation, captured particularly in Laura’s vocal and the lullabied strings. Such a gentle arrangement continues into ‘Can You Hold Me’, a genteel romance into which the seasons are descriptively weaved, and ‘The Place I Call Home’, a solemn ode to “the land where we belong”.
It is clear from the ethereal nature of these songs that Our Atlantic Roots have drawn from the deep well of their county’s past. The delicate strum of the acoustic guitar and pungent pressing on the fiddle are both effective in conjuring up a sound that evokes their South Coastal location. They also ensure that the title track is uplifting even as it is haunting. Both inject a sense of hope into its theme of timelessness; a theme that veers away from a sentimentality that could easily have clouded the idea that “memories live on / long after we’re gone”. Such heartfelt emotion echoes through to the final track ‘Cornwall My Home’. Written by Harry Glasson, it has been covered by many, but perhaps not with quite such soulful and tender intent. Their approach causes the chorus to be even more arresting than it already is; patriotic but without being pretentious. When they sing “this is my Eden… / this is my home”, it is evident that the landscape has carved itself into their hearts. This is where they belong, and the result is beautiful to hear. A love letter in musical form.
You can purchase ‘Memories Live On’, along with two of their previous EPs, from their online store.
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‘Brace for Impact’ is the slightly deceiving title of Rebecca Hurn’s debut album. For the Welsh singer-songwriter performs in a musical style so soft that any oncoming collision does not necessitate the kind of tense response usually reserved for such a warning. Not that the songs here are without emotional impact. But encased in mainly acoustic, guitar led Folk means that, when coupled with her mellifluous vocals, their lyrical content is delivered with a subversive punch.
Opening track ‘Gave Up Giving’ is a case in point. From its big, bold opening, Hurn presents a dramatic storyline tinged with melancholy and regret. “I grew up giving myself away” is the hinge from which a protectionist stance emerges, growing from lost friendships and broken relationships, which eventually leads to stolen happiness when a moment of hope shines through. It is a really tragic story but told through a tender composition that proffers easy listening over sympathy-inducing sentiment.
Even ‘Seventeen’ and ‘Constellations’ curb the capturing of perfect moments in idealism. The return to innocence is a longing for those “sunburnt summers” and “that gold rush” but without the mushiness that normally accompanies such wishes. This is deep and heartfelt for Hurn, whose steadfast presentation allows her songs to become genuine experiences instead of Disneyfied scenes. It means that the delicate expression in ‘Turbulence’, for instance, affords the literal a metaphorical slant, which in turn commentates on the mindset of the anxious in a really relatable way. All the while that signature Folk style remains unwavering.
It continues into ‘I Don’t Mind the Rain’, a gentle dance around words that soar with burgeoning love, and ‘I Just Don’t Love You Anymore’, where that love turns sour and truth is “screamed so loud till he’d listen”. Again, the irony is that even in rage Hurn remains level-headed; with vocals light as a feather though the lyrics weigh heavy with hurt. She has a similar style to ELERI on Earthbound: a South Walian wistfulness that is quietly captivating. None more so than on ‘The Night We Stole the Moon’, where the harmonising produces a very visual effect.
The album culminates, in my opinion, with ‘Paper Town’. I say this because the two “acoustic” versions that follow don’t really add anything substantially different to their original counterparts. And also, because the line “I’m nobody’s fool” is perhaps the most forthright and forceful on the whole record. If everything leading up to this has been the ‘brace’ then this song certainly feels like the ‘impact’. But in true Rebecca Hurn fashion, it’s transposed into a soothing soundtrack that belies its resolute message.
It may be her debut but Rebecca Hurn already sounds like a seasoned storyteller. ‘Brace for Impact’ is surely an indication of her inevitable rise onto the UK Country/Folk scene.
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