Paul Jeffery - 'Gemini Witness' Review by Tim Carroll (April 2010)
Now here's something
different. There is something
both lyrically enthralling yet
occasionally faintly unsettling about the songs on ‘Gemini Witness’ by Paul
Jeffery. The wandering poetry of
the lyrics combines with the
intricate musical
expression to create the enchantment, while the haunting sometimes
disconcerting vocals alternately stir light and dark pools of emotion.
This is penetrating
music - psyche-folk blended with new and traditional - a mix that could
only come from these shores The album opens with ‘The Moon’ a short mournful chant that slides
neatly into ‘Here Is’, which follows a similar vein. These two, plus ‘Hymn’ and
‘Sarasvati’ characterise the mix of ‘sound scenes’ that Paul conjures in his
songs. Paul’s compositions combine his rich voice with a myriad of tumbling strings
and the cadences of daughter Holly’s vocals. There’s a nod to tradition with
Paul’s fine take on the Irish ballad ‘The Lakes of Pontchartrain’ that’s right
up there with the definitive Planxty version. Then there’s a step-change with the moody feel that Paul attaches to songs like ‘Lament’ and ‘Crosswind’. This replaces the gentler touches of the previous tracks with a sharper edge, insistent harmonica and a choppy guitar style. Adding his own feel to ‘All Along The Watchtower’, Paul gives the Dylan classic an intriguing edge that creates something different and personal – perhaps reflecting the real meaning of the Moondog quote on the album cover. This album deserves a listen because there’s much to hear. ‘Gemini Witness’ forges one more solid link in the English folk chain. It’s the essence of psychedelic ethereal with wandering wraith-like lyrics and a combination of different takes and unusual signatures. It also reveals a breadth of treatments and styles that Paul brings to his music. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Philip Butler & Natasha Tranter - 'Stories For Emily' Review by Mick Mercer (March 2010) I don’t know if any of you have ever been prompted by one of my reviews to get a record on chance but if not then tonight is the night, or today’s the day, depending on when you see this. (Hopefully tomorrow will be too late.) You may recall I wittered on grandly about Philip Butler’s ‘Trapped At Sea’ album, which rightly nestled near the top of my Albums Of The Year of 2009. Well, here he is again, with his partner Natasha Tranter, likely to do so the same again this year. It is another fine record, but what makes this so special is the care and attention taken in creating a limited edition of just 30 copies which comes as a hardbound CD-sized book, bound in cloth made from the dress Natasha is pictured wearing. Inside the book there are beautifully illustrated lyrics, and even individual photos that have been stuck in. An extraordinary thing indeed and the url provided at the bottom shows they have some left, and they’re just seven quid!!!! If I were you I’d but your copy before even bothering to read the rest of the review because you shouldn’t want to miss out. So, the music. Once again it’s modern folk, and more in line with
traditional feelings that you might expect, but having come from an indie background
Butler isn’t subverting the form wildly, he’s dragging it sideways
into places it doesn’t necessarily want to go, but happy also to be retained
in place by the natural elasticity the scene’s traditions asserts. Homely
stories co-exist with sighing, wistful sounds, just as the harsher atmospheres
or odder strains can accommodate his weirder ideas. ‘Jack The Mommet’ is creepy and slow, telling the story of
a scarecrow who snatches women to become his brides, the singer having lost
his own love this way. (‘I’ve searched for her, and other maids
who’ve lost their way, but all I’ve found are effigies, in gowns
of hay.’) It’s beautifully spooky, even allowing for the fact Jack
probably wouldn’t need to make effigies as he had the actual women, but
we mustn’t let that get in the way of a good story. Also, I have never
heard the word mommet before, so that’s good. ‘No White Rabbit’ finds him lapsing into his sentimental woes, admitting to having nightmares of his love being easily charmed by another. Apparently he struggles with this, trying to wake and phone her, which is simply poor planning, because how welcome would that be? (“I’ve been having nightmares!” “Do you have any idea what time it is? Go back to sleep, you big tart!”) The tune takes a frisky upturn as well, mocking his paranoia. I’m annoyed I don’t recognise the dimpled notes at the start of ‘A Sorry Tragic Tale’ which is a magnificently dramatic, sweeping tale of two people killed in Snowdonia, the vocals used brilliantly, the atmosphere twisting and escalating, then muting respectfully. The only thing which ruins this is resorting to some la-la-la’s at the close, when that’s the place for a killer verse. ‘To Dream Of Death’ suffers the same fate, its miserable chiming tone reflecting the fate of Mary, the suspected witch. (I wonder if witchfinder-generally folk were ever tried for murder when ‘innocent’ people drowned?) This is no place for any la-la-laing either, but it does end with a dark flourish. A fantastic record overall, and for those who get the limited edition a real work of art. Creativity, in an era of technological blandness. Cause for celebration. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Riverbanks - Review by The Abbot of Unreason The Riverbanks CD, which is a compendium of acoustic artists from the Severn & Wye Valley areas, was released last Sunday (16th August 2009) at The Old Rectifying House. It is possibly one of the finest collections of acoustic artists from the two counties ever assembled and Sawmill/Steelmill Records must be congratulated for their efforts.....Riverbanks is a sixteen track CD with the sole purpose of raising money for The County Air Ambulance Trust and the £5 cover price of the CD is possibly the best value contribution you will make this year to a worthy cause – you won’t be disappointed! If you are a regular patron or performer at many of our local gig venues, many of the names on the Riverbanks CD will be familiar to you. Indeed, as you give the CD a spin on whatever player you choose to use, the songs will be familiar and you will be whisked back to the place and venue that the songs were first heard. Ah yes... “Pot Luck” by The Players takes me back to when I first met the trio at The Prancing Pony, “La Lune et La Mer” returns me to The Island Bar in Birmingham where I first saw Bombdog – and so it goes on.....All your acoustic favorites are on the Riverbanks CD. As well as The Players and Bombdog, there is George Clarke, Jimm Zorn, The Ragged Crows, Jez Mort, Philip Butler etc, Admiral Daydream & the Stolen Souvenirs, Dom Huxley, Johnny Kowalski, David Ian Roberts, Andi Skellam, The Worrisome Ankletrout, Matt Woosey and the Strange Rain and Ragtime Ewan of course. All fine musicians and all brilliant songwriters. Nevertheless there are two tracks on Riverbanks that to be fair, really stand out for me; and unlike those artists I have listed and I have seen at one time or another; I must confess I am yet to meet Ruby Stone and Dom Huxley. But if “Jericho Lane” by Ruby Stone and “All I got” by Dom Huxley are representative of what these two performers have to offer us lesser mortals, then I’m looking out for their next local gigs. Indeed, both performers deliver in style on Riverbanks. You could say that it is a bit unfortunate that the launch of Riverbanks by Sawmill/Steelmill has been rather over-shadowed by the release of the three “Now That’s What I Call Sauce” CD’s for the Worcester Music Festival, but when the noise finally settles after the festival has been and gone, Riverbanks will be there for all to enjoy ! Please buy this CD; it’ll be the best £5 you have spent all year! ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: April 2009 Source - www.acousticmusic.com Now here's a sound you don't often hear. Philip Butler has moved well beyond the punk scene to blend the Incredible String Band with early Strawbs, Pentangle, and Pearls Before Swine, ending with a quirky progressive folk sound that entirely eluded older prototypes like Keith Christmas and Colin Scott—even, frankly, much as I revere the guy as a writer, Pete Sinfield in his rootsier solo work. What Butler's doing has strong affinities with the Young God and Language of Stone labels as well as with the 'weird folk' movement, though he's not chasing quirky squibs as a pop grail but rather compositional and perceptual necessity. No one would raise a note of doubt were I to play this blind and claim it was released in 1973. Trapped at Sea has the same finished/unfinished feel a good deal of the non-mainstream—and a lot of the mainstream (Elyse Weinberg, etc.)—releases had back then, a quality that avoided overproduction for a preference in tangibility. For a home job, the sessions are damn well captured, especially the choral vocals, while throwing mellotron, lap steel, and layers of instruments into the mix, often achieving airs of pastoral majesty. Butler threw over any chance whatsoever at a shot at the charts and, in doing so, achieved a degree of rough and raw beauty no Billboard slab could hope for. The dreary grace of My Siren, for instance, climbs into a Goth chamber trance that ends in a curious triangle abbreviation before flowing into Save Us and its Jansch-y guitaristics and desperate hero's narrative set off by odd side effects and a rubbery slide. No matter where you go on this disc, you're going to run into a blend of the traditional and the unorthodox forming a tractor beam around the ears. So, beam me up, Erasmus, I'm ready.
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