Zachary Cale

When a rare recommendation arrived from a respected source (eminent musician Hans Chew) I sat up straight. The recommendation was Zachary Cale from Enon, Louisiana and he was playing in nearby York within days. Hearing his album 'Noise Of Welcome' made me instantly change plans to see another band the same night in Sheffield. I was taken by the fragile voice, the confident arrangements and the intriguing juxtaposition of disparate words in his lyrics.

To stand out in the overcrowded singer songwriter genre these days an artist has to find an angle or, more impressively (Josh T Pearson, John Murry), deliver their music from such a position of brutal conviction that the listener identifies and engages with the person before finding a way in to the music itself. So this was a feeling I had. My sixth sense (located in the gut) positively screamed at me.

True enough, the album continued to revealed its layers over the next couple of days and we found our way to the Fulford Arms in York where he was playing solo on a mid-week night.

He is a very disarming individual and we managed a quick chat during which he revealed his love of British/ Irish music (Waterboys, The Fall, The Kinks ) before delivering a set of songs (including Mourning Glory Kid, above) that invited those watching into his interior world. His guitar playing is deceptively complex, featuring runs and chord sequences that turned the instrument into an orchestra. I was reminded mostly of English folk legend Michael Chapman, who I saw in February.

http://swiftysteve.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/michael-chapman.html

Live, his voice comes and goes, dropping and then rising on lyrics themed around the trials of being human. I sensed that, deeper than this, he is pre-occupied by forgiveness and, who knows, loss. Cale's version of lyrical folk balladry intertwines the urban and the pastoral - his songs are rooted in real life - this is no daydreamer's charter or means of escape. He contemplates to find answers, only for those answers to slip away in the cold light of day. But this is OK -  he has his music to re-discover those solutions and to begin to make those choices.

Zachary Cale is different. He has the searing honesty which will see him through and the work ethic to make it happen.

http://allhandselectric.com/zacharycale.html

Note Bleed

I'm drawn to music that doesn't quite fit. Increasingly it's work on the outer fringes which lulls me in. Don't get me wrong I love straight-ahead pop and isten to as much old music as new. But when, as in the case of Note Bleed, I hear an artist freely experimenting to find a voice, dipping in and out of this and that, wilfully and honestly communicating with themselves so that they may, perhaps one day, communicate with a much wider audience, I feel duty bound to listen.

There are just three tracks on the Soundcloud link below. I know nothing about the people or person who made them. The lyrics to 'Austerity Measures' are profound and ambitious and the song is blessed with a melodic sensibility that hints at a songwriter who understands the intrigue that can be created by combining chunky major chords with an introspective vocal, the song builds and swells but then ends uncertainly..as the words to the song turn round on themselves. 'The Quiet Ones' is mainly just a keyboard and drum machine  - the sparseness of the production mirrors the singer's struggles and pain with a relationship. Listening to it again I can only guess that the relationship is with himself.

'What Johnny Would Say' is a tongue in cheek pastiche of Johnny Cash's 'Folsom Prison Blues'. I feel comforted that Note Bleed take inspiration from one of my heroes, one whose influence has spread beyond the prison confines to genres of music he could never have imagined. Here, it's a vehicle for the singer to rage at personal injustice but to do so with a humour and lightness that suggests to me that finding a voice through making music is the antidote to whatever life has thrown at him. It's how we react to events that defines who we are and on the evidence of these three songs Note Bleed has found a medium to lighten the load and to share some wisdom, in the process to find a voice and, who knows, that elusive wider audience.

http://soundcloud.com/notebleed

Nat Lyon

I've been suffering from a touch of writer's block lately, hence this first blog post in a good while.

All it takes to get my adjectives flowing, though, is music which gets me in the gut. I like it when I can't find the words and the feelings that come with just being lost in whatever that moment might bring. My eyes will probably be closed, my head will be emptying of thoughts and there will be a stirring of emotion and a tangible sensation of striding forward, of being taken down new paths. It doesn't happen very often - how can it, for if it did my musical filters would surely overload. I like to think I can discriminate. The acid test is that gut feeling, a connection for which words are inadequate. So when I try find the adjectives I'm happy to come up short. It's a good sign.

Nat Lyon's album LCRV (Lower Connecticut River Valley) arrived first as a download and then in CD form with a note from the man himself. As the title suggests it draws inspiration from Lyon's local geography. It's a sparse collection of deeply personal songs that deal with universal themes. Like the very best singer songwriters, he's able to show us something about ourselves in the mirror of his own experience. Some of these experiences are harrowing and his depictions of relationships take no prisoners. This is an uncompromising set of songs that do not suit themselves to a passive listen. Think twice before soundtracking your dinner party to 'Where To Find Me' and I doubt your kids will want to sing along in the car to 'An Imagined Delta'. He's political, profane and unafraid to tread on toes. He'd rather you hated the album than fail to have an opinion. He's making this music for himself and you don't have to listen.

But there are gorgeous melodies and the album is beautfully produced. At three minutes 'The Gardener Waits For Winter' pauses for thought and the organ figure gives ways to a guitar, discordant piano and drums and it's like a parched stream has found it's waterfall. It opens up like a tribituary into a fast flowing river and then finishes in a cascade of random notes.

Forget this album if you're after an easy ride. But let Lyon take you into his discomfort zone and you'll be onwardly rewarded with shards of recognition about yourself. Musically, it'll remind you of plenty of influences but the honesty - the honesty is uniquely him - and after writing this I now understand it is that which got me in the gut.

 http://natlyon.tumblr.com ,
 @natlyon

Dave Pilla

Living in Leeds I'm sometimes embarrassed at my inadequate knowledge of the local music scene. There is clearly a lot of talent on the doorstep which I miss and, although the city's reputation down the years has been dominated by certain Goth and indie names, we have a thriving industry backed up by plenty of live venues.

So Dave Pilla is a new name to me but as you can see from the clips below and a listen to the tracks on his label's website, he has a certain....something.... a fragility and an ear for melody that's crying out for a lavish production. Maybe he doesn't want that, which is fine. His songs work effortlessly with just him and a delicate guitar. I like the understatedness and restraint behind the voice. His lyrics are world-weary but optimistic and I can picture him as a support act, resolutely calming a chatty crowd with his quiet power.

Hopefully, he'll get lots of opportunities like that, but for now...

http://www.heartonsleevemusic.co.uk/davepilla-dave-pilla-ep.html

                              http://davepilla.bandcamp.com/

Hans Chew

Sometime in 2010 the CD that comes with Uncut Magazine threw up a name which intrigued. Noting 'Hans' and knowing how the Americana genre is rippling out from the the land of its birth and spawning all kinds of The Band-derived artists from Scandanavia to Singapore I half expected a vaguely country/ Teutonic experience. Instead, what leapt out of the car stereo was piano-driven southern blues that had me shaking my head in a kind of silent ecstasy, content in the knowledge that I'd found another unknown artist to explore.

The album from which the track was lifted - 'Tennessee and Other Stories' - was an instant classic. The influences, from Jerry Lee Lewis to John Prine, were undermined by the intelligence, singularity and originality of the songs. There were also shards of Leon Russell and definite echoes of the darker recesses of Nick Cave at work. His cover of Tim Rose's 'Long Time Man' was a daring choice and added a gritty texture to a collection that just flew along. I was absolutely convinced that this was a musician of special talent.

I tweeted him and a regular dialogue was established. My girlfriend and I went to see him on his first solo tour in Leicester supporting Darden Smith. We met him and his fiance in the pub beforehand and (as well as cadging a lift to the venue) struck up an immediate rapport (as much about British football as music, I should say). There must have been less than thirty people at the gig but he played as if his life depended on it. He returned to New York promising to return.

Which he did, last week and almost a year to the day. I met him again at his first show in Sheffield and then again twenty minutes up the road from Leeds in the very un-rock and roll market town of Otley. This time round he's acompanied by the impressive David Cavallo on guitar and has a batch of new songs destined for a second album. He is a remarkable piano player blessed with a voice which adds light and shade to the wonderfully propulsive songs  - that 'high lonesome sound' borne out of New Orleans gospel. Cavallo's Telecaster adds an edge to the live show - the rootsy blues of the piano is shredded (in a good way) by a series of solos which create a real frisson around the room. This is ambitious stuff, a clash of instruments that send the older songs travelling in completely different directions to the recorded versions.

Am I biased? I suppose so. Hans is a man without ego - definitely a 'mate'. We bond about a lot of stuff but his talent is there for all to see. I can't wait for his new album and the promise - yes the PROMISE - of a full band tour.

I wanted to take some live footage in Otley but my phone let me down. This is from a previous show in Cornwall and underneath is some older footage that gives a good idea of the man's power.

http://www.hanschew.com/

Bowerbirds

Brudenell Social Club, Leeds  - 3 May, 2012

I should take notes at these gigs. Adjectives and observations flood over me but as I walk out of the venue I can sense them drifting into the night air. On this occasion I recall 'ethereal', 'intricate', 'lovely', 'cinematic' and 'filigree' (the latter prompted by an oblique feeling that the Cocteau Twins had just entered the room). These are words not necessarily associated with the making of music but Bowerbirds are like that, they offer an experience which is far greater than the sum of its parts. All that's required is an open mind and a readiness to allow the sound to wash over you.

I'm not sure if they've listened to the Cocteau Twins. They are miles apart in many ways but it was the coming together of the various elements that reminded me of them. Filigree  - "delicate and intricate ornamental work made from gold, silver or other fine twisted wire".

The parts that equal the sum comprise five members who (apart from the drummer) swap instruments at will. The ingenuity and prowess is boggling and there is a confidence and ease which transmits an air of purpose and belief thoughout the room. Philip Moore's vocals rise and fall across a series of complex melodies that occasionally coalesce against a major chord. For the most part the vocals are yes - ethereal - semi-spoken at times but catching the flight of the syncopated rhythms which skitter and nurdle underneath. There is SO much going on yet the skill of this band is in rendering it so unadorned and naked. The harmonies are glorious and the warm open air feel disguises the darkness of the songs - they write and sing of nature and of its cycle, the death and the renewal.

The latest album 'The Clearing' is yes - cinematic - and moves them away from the more folky production of its two predecessors. Tonight, they are stretching out with the new material, showing off a bit with an easy air to their body language and occasional chats with the audience.

Just over an hour later and I'm scratching my head, trying to find the words. It doesn't matter. I've been left with a feeling of powerful warmth that will eventually translate into words. Maybe it won't - that is the beauty of live music.

http://www.bowerbirds.org/

Sweet Billy Pilgrim - Crown And Treaty

Around the fourth track of this utterly glorious album - 'Arrived At Upside Down'  it's called - I ceased my habitual mind shenanigans of trying to spot the influences at work, instead allowing the rest of the nine tracks to take me on their own highly original journey. The phrase "Radiohead with balls and heart" persuaded me that I should stop over-thinking it and I'm glad it did as there will be plenty of time to excavate the outer reaches of these songs.

Like many I was a convert to Sweet Billy Pilgrim on two counts. That they take their name from a Kurt Vonnegut character meant that I would have listened to their re-mix of the shipping forecast with an open mind but also I'd come to love their second album 'Twice Born Men' (2009) and was growing impatient for its successor. The Mercury nomination this album received was, I guessed, the reason for the delay as they pored over very bar and syllable in an expensive studio paid for by the ensuing sales and royalties garnered by that record. That or they'd killed themselves after Speech Debelle scooped the award.

So the album was announced and set for release and then delayed and then a stream popped up and the real thing dropped through the letter box on Tuesday. I'd listened to it a few times already and it was absolutely clear by then that the music on it was far too big for my brain. I tweeted the band to say it reminded me of spatial Aussies The Triffids and got a reply that didn't piss on this inadequate observation. Relief gave way to the realisation that this is an incomparable set of songs which stand up to the most forensic scrutiny.

Where to start? I don't know. SBP's Wiki page refers to them as 'thrash pastel' which is better than I can do. The themes of being human, of failing and then trying again are couched in a lightness and a grace which constantly defy expectations, even after several listens. It is intense, funky, existential, poppy, indulgent, pastoral, spiritual, humble, respectful, anarchic. There is a track called 'Archaeology' - case closed.

It's an album that will change as I change. It has the textures to reveal themselves over months, perhaps years. It's the best £7.99 I've ever spent.