A Yorkshireman of a certain age who likes most genres of music and most makes of old car. Travel is a joy, not least to escape the British winter. Travel by bicycle is bliss and if I’m not lost in music then I’m lost in a daydream about a hot day, tens of miles to cover and the promise of a great campsite and a beer. I like to think I’m always learning and becoming wiser. However, on the latter point evidence is in short supply.
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After a seven-year hiatus, Knight returns with a tour de force. His songs are lyrically rooted in the blue-collar world of Kentucky and his sound is uncompromising electric guitar drenched country-blues-rock. Ray Kennedy (5 Time Grammy Award Winner) produces the album and the quality never falters as Knight’s muscular and gritty vocals come to the fore over this full sound often leavened by banjo, fiddle and mandolin. A show stopping contribution comes from Dan Baird (Georgia Satellites) on guitars: fluid solos, incendiary flourishes and a breadth of sounds that will have you reaching for his own work.
Knight wrote all but two of the 11 tracks. He writes from the place of a humble soul often struggling against ‘the Man’ in a world of little money and lots of personal baggage from a life of missteps and hard living. He may have been the originator of this type of storytelling but since he’s been away these first-person stories bring to mind James McMurtry for their wistful insights (and sound) and Tyler Childers for the compact stories of minor criminal hijinks in rural Kentucky.
An early morning text from an old friend alerted me to the latest edition of the local newspaper – The Yorkshire Post. There was a pull out section with images of the past. On the back was a photo of my father. He died in 1989 and 30 years later you don’t expect to see his photo in a newspaper. By the time of his photo I was living away from home but I vaguely recollect him coming across this post box/plate. He was a Councillor on Leeds City Council. I think this may have been something that was surplus to requirements after an old building was demolished and he he bagged it. He did have it refurbished and I expect it then languished in the garage or similar.
Two of 2018’s best traditional country albums were released by Erin Enderlin and Kayla Ray respectively. (I sifted through a lot of music to come to this conclusion). However, whilst they’ve accumulated accolades and awards Stateside, with the cost of visiting these shores, and their current UK profile, meant I’d probably have to make do with the records.
Meanwhile Sheffield’s own Lynne Robertson was in Nashville celebrating her husband’s birthday earlier this year. They found their way to 3rd and Lindsley to listen to some music. By chance Erin Enderlin was playing. Lynne was amazed by what she heard. In chatting and buying a CD at the end of the night a conversation started. They discussed Lynne’s regular Sheffield acoustic music nights for loyal and appreciative members. Erin said she had tentative plans to make a foray to the UK to play her first ever gigs outside of the USA.
I have heard people claim that Sheffield is often touched by Divine intervention. Not least at the nearby Sheffield Wednesday soccer ground, a mere stone’s throw from Lynne’s venue. I didn’t believe it was true until I learned that both Enderlin and Kayla Ray were to appear at one of Lynne’s nights. When buying my tickets Lynne commented that to her surprise people were grabbing tickets from miles and miles away; it was no surprise to me that it was sold out.
First up was Kayla Ray. She seemed taken aback by her first trip to England with our quaint ways and ancient towns. You could tell she was thrilled to be here. The crowd of 60+ were knocked out by this charming Southern belle: all Texan drawl, talk of the bible and whiskey with lots of sass and a fabulous sense of humour. Over ten songs we were treated to A selection from her Yesterday & Me album, new unreleased songs, her latest single release “The Jameson Waltz” and even a classic gospel song. The audience completely lit up with “Pills”. Hilarious lyrics delivered with an impish smile and considerable guitar skills. Between songs there was banter explaining the song’s origins and a self deprecating commentary – “this one’s (Rockport) written by a good friend, Jon Dews. We call him ’pappy’, not because he’s older but because unlike other songwriters he also has a proper job!” Her song delivery has a slow, classic 60s, earnest feel and the pain and anger was shared by the now captivated audience.
After the yearning emotion of “I’m Still A Woman” she declared “on a happier note this is a gospel song about domestic violence”, cue audience collapsing into fits of laughter. It was “Fair Warning”: a tale about an abusive relationship. She finished all too soon with the gospel standard “Peace In The Valley”. The audience clapped and clapped: slightly awestruck she stood there and beamed before making way for her ‘buddy’.
Erin Enderlin has been an important songwriter for a long time with several of her songs appearing on albums by the biggest country stars. These songwriting duties continue but she’s seems to be creating a bigger solo profile by releasing her own music. Whiskeytown Crier seemed a break through and another album is in the pipeline.
Starting with “Caroline” you notice the voice. She has a range with considerable emotional pull. Each song places you in the story. You immediately empathise with the actors in these three minute dramas. If I was feeling this by her fourth song “Ain’t It Just Like A Cowboy”, the room was also transported into the heartbreaking life of a betrayed, yet understanding, lover whose cowboy strays for reasons she explains to be of her making. With little or no eye contact Enderlin plunges us into this woman’s empty life where all hope seems lost; her voice soars or whispers. We absorb this heart rending misery while being carried along by a sumptuous melody.
Enderlin shares her journey: working as a peer to peer counsellor, touring with Willie Nelson, her love of country music from a young age and the icons who’ve inspired her. Many of the songs have been influenced by her own life.
Of the 12 songs,five came from her last album and three from her recently released EPs. Lee Ann Womack covered Last Call on her 2008 Call Me Crazy album. Here in the hands of the creator it was beautiful with its pathos and weary understanding of the lost and lonely male on the end of the line.
“Any requests?” She asks for the encore. The audience doesn’t know her catalogue but, like me, they also think that whatever comes next will be fabulous. She picks “Monday Morning Church” her first ‘hit’. In 2005 Alan Jackson took it onto the charts. If it were needed, this confirmed she’s been writing brilliant music for a very long time. She took a bow and the audience rose to their feet and hollered its appreciation.
On the way out I saw one of Lynne’s regulars grab her arm, stop her, look her in the eye and just say in a hushed reverential way…”wow!”
Hannah James and the JigDoll Ensemble – The Woman And Her Words
I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed folk music until this delight came my way. Fêted as one of the best accordionists of the British Folk scene, Hannah James has created an album of great beauty.
The music, with its stripped back grace, creates swells of captivating sound on a large yet calm sea of traditional folk strings. Her ensemble wasrecorded in Budapest and it is an international group gathered from Hungary, Estonia, Scotland and France – Kate Young (fiddle and vocals), Marti Tärn (bass and production), Andras Dés (percussion) and Toby Kuhn (cello).
So after over three weeks away on my cycle to Vienna (see Posts elsewhere on the site) I was quickly into what my Favourite Eldest Daughter calls ‘life admin” or what I’d call outstanding paperwork. However before I started on this a trip to the supermarket was in order.
My bride had switched off the fridge and freezer before flying out to join me in Austria. This is something that I could have done. It’s worrying to know she has acquired my gift. The fragrance was not attractive on opening the front door. Despite the cleaning up and emptying the putrid freezer it does offer an opportunity to stock up on items that you want to eat. I expect you all experience the same swerve on various frozen foods that have lain dormant in your freezer for months when you check what there is to eat.
Texas, America’s biggest state, is the main theme in either the montage of tales he compiles and the origin of his collaborators. Crowell, a Texan, had the idea for several years of pulling together a Texas concept album; now he’s delivered.
I approach elderly icons’ modern releases with low expectations as I usually discover the music is weary or sub-optimal compared to the dizzying heights they once scaled. However, Crowell’s creativity and relevance is still peaking judging by his last three releases. It helps to be an exceptional lyricist who can paint a vivid picture with few words. Add a selection of contemporary sounds that drip with new melodies, diverse arrangements and you are approaching legendary status.
Crowell wrote most of the songs and the other artists’ contributions are more of an invitation to enjoy a splendid outing rather than bringing significant influences. This is especially true of “Flatland Hillbillies” where Country fixtures Lee Ann Womack and Randy Rogers join this easy rolling mid tempo song to paint a picture of the lifestyle of blue collar folk. ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons brings his unmistakable chugging rhythm, guitar licks and gruff vocals to a couple of tracks. One of these is “56 Fury” and it is a homage to a chromium-drenched Detroit gas guzzler. Crowell enjoys himself and it’s nice to see him step away from some of his more earnest compositions.
When Anna suggested a European jaunt to Vienna in August she thought about amazing cake, enormous history, wide vistas of a beautiful city etc. and I immediately thought I could ride my bike there! In fairness one of my favourite films is The Third Man set in post war Vienna with Orson Welles and I note there is a walking tour of the famous images in the city from that 1949 classic. From Vienna we’re planning to get the train to Bratislava for a day trip. This will be my first visit to Slovakia. (They must be excited, I know).
Johnny Marr, who wrote the music for The Smiths (whilst Stephen Morrissey wrote the words), was across the media this summer either talking about his new album or playing Glastonbury. The importance of The Smiths still endures. They split in 1987. For all Marr’s dazzling arrangements and tunes, that accompanied Morrissey’s lyrics, then he is only revered as an historic figure. I doubt his commercial success since adds up to much.
Morrissey still has a large and enthusiastic following and each release is eagerly awaited. However, his latest album received some bemused and ignorant reviews. The ‘youfs’ who were instructed to write about his latest release of covers were irritated about being instructed to write about a 60 year old man’s record. Not least all the covers were a mystery to them; no doubt had them scrabbling around on Spotify to hear the originals. These songs mainly originate from the 1960s and 70s. They also had disdain for Morrissey’s politics. Having politics is not a handicap for today’s musicians providing it is to the Left and sneering.
Morrissey is still coveted by the record industry with a recording contract with BMG and a large worldwide fan base who adore this irascible, complicated, self obsessed one off. His regular recorded output is always important. He’s found good collaborators to work with and his lyrical content still has touches of genius.
For me The Smiths without Morrissey’s image and lyrics would be nothing: sorry Johnny.
Morrissey’s literary and readable but completely unreliable autobiography, Morrissey, spends some time dwelling on his escape into popular music and his conflicting emotions with his awakening homosexuality. I knew many of the records he grew up obsessing about. The imagery that inspired him meant a lot less to me but I can well remember the impact and excitement of much of it.
It’s an obscure artist called Jobriath, the first openly gay artist signed to a major record label, where he starts. It is a bright pop tune called “Morning Starship”. I liked this but his foray into the world of Joni Mitchell had me anxious. He was potentially dabbling with alchemy. However “Don’t Interrupt The Sorrow” is a magnificent version. He captures the dynamics of the song which are little to do with the lyric or tune. It’s more to do with Joni’s jazz sensibilities and arrangement.
Having despatched that with aplomb he turns his attention to Dylan and renders a striking and marching take on “Only A Pawn In Their Game”. This was written about the assassination of a Black American Civil Rights Activist. Whether Morrissey is acknowledging his thoughts on this, his own marginalisation as a gay man or simply genuflecting to the most important American popular music artist of his age you can only speculate.
Further songs are by several 70s female singer songwriters – Carly Simon, Melanie, Laura Nyro and Buffy Saint-Marie. You can well imagine a teenage boy sat in his Manchester bedroom absorbing the open and honest heartfelt emotions of these ladies.
However, he does pick some former ‘singles’ and Roy Orbison’s “It’s Over” and Gary Puckett’s “Lady Willpower” require a good voice to carry off. In that department he has everything you need.
The production remains crisp, pacy and somehow has an attractive hard brittle surface that makes it more contemporary and compelling. This is important in order to elevate a covers album from being a weary muse or a cop out by an established but uninspired artist.
Whatever your thoughts then you can’t ignore him (and neither should you).
After a 16 day bike ride, mainly camping, to Vienna I met Anna at Vienna Airport to spend seven days exploring the Austrian capital with a brief day trip to Slovakia. My bike ride is covered under a separate post, please seek it out.
There really is a lot to like about Vienna and, as I thought, it is one of the most delightful capitals in the world. I’ve been here twice before – once as a teenager with my parents and then in the early 80s I drove here with two pals in a Morris Marina Estate. On the second trip we also took in the Austrian Formula One Grand Prix. Holidays with friends live long in the memory even when, with no little heartbreak, one of them recently died at 59 years old.
Shinyribs (a.k.a Kevin Russell) is back with his inimitable slinky rock, soul and funk. Imagine KC & The Sunshine Band colliding with Dr John and Al Green. Picking up on the vibe of 2016’s epic I Got Your Medicine Russell has penned ten songs and put together an accomplished band including backing singers and brass.
The result is a varied album of tracks that make you wish you could see the band live. Russell is currently touring the record and on his ever-entertaining Twitter feed he writes that “Hoods Of Cars” is getting the best live reaction. I can see why: a horn intro à la Average White Band gives way to Russell’s vocals. This funky riff supported by some cool guitar and backing vocals is easy to imagine as a crowd favourite. In fact Russell’s Twitter feed is a thing of considerable entertainment with his original take on many things: he can switch between some erudite musing of 280 characters on human behaviour to thoughts on plastic pollution, Walter Cronkite, sport, weed killer or green chilli stew.
“Highway Of Diamonds” settles into a West Coast groove with a loping beat and some clear electric guitar picking. A delicious melody with lashings of backing vocals enthrals. This of all the tracks illustrates the competence of the band to either let rip or scale back to let the beauty of a melody shine through. The diversity of sounds is down to the arrangements and ability of the band. This more than anything else tells you are listening to a crafted and memorable release. In all this revelry, and allied to his pithy thoughts, he can pen a mean lyric:
“Laughed at and left out, sold into self doubt
Wallflowers grow wild with time
Now nights filled with jewels, city glow & vines
We’re gone forever and they’ll never find
Highway of diamonds-no one will ever notice we’re gone
Highway of diamonds here’s to the shy ones
Under the stars like rivers we run”
“Crazy Lonely” is a reflection on the human condition masked by our cell phones. Maybe this is his best vocal on the album bursting with personality; either straining or soaring to a beautiful falsetto. Less complicated Shinyribs move on from life’s trials to sing about “Savannah Chanelle” – a girl he’s set his heart on. Courtesy of the Tijuana Trainwreck Horns the trumpets toot, a saxophone blows bass notes and the organ grumbles as he and the his troupe implore her to call. She should.
Each track has a signature beat and your trying to remaining stationary is futile. This is one of the most engaging Americana Soul releases of the year.
Chris left the bar leaving nearly half a pint sat looking lonely and abandoned at the table. Den and I had no interest in the drink but if he’d left for good then we could command the table and sit down. We did. Den and I were in The Bluebell with our wives. Needless to say we were apart from the ladies discussing gripping things such as plastering, taps and the mysteries of insurance claims.
Chris, however, returned but was happy to share his table. Like us he was enjoying a summer pint on Fossgate. Chris was around 70, thick set, a ridiculous shock of thick grey hair and a Van Dyke beard.
When Anna suggested a European jaunt to Vienna in August she thought about amazing cake, enormous history, wide vistas of a beautiful city etc. and I immediately thought I could ride my bike there! In fairness one of my favourite films is ‘The Third Man’ set in post war Vienna with Orson Welles and I note there is a walking tour of the famous images in the city from that 1949 classic. From Vienna we’re planning to get the train to Prague for an overnight stay and then later another train day trip to Bratislava. This will be my first visit to Slovakia. (They must be excited, I know).
It’s only about 900 miles from York. And my plan was hatched via maps being perused and another spreadsheet being created (with the daily mileages, elevations to be climbed and camping stops identified). It’ll take me 17 days of around 60 plus miles a day with a couple of rest days thrown in. This is quite a light schedule for me and I may change the route.
The route is from Zeebrugge (and Belgium) into Luxembourg. This small country does have some rugged hills and after those undulations I’ll be in South Germany. Last year I spent a long time here but further east and well south beneath Munich. I must admit it wasn’t inspiring and in someways for all that Germany is ‘switched on’ and ‘happening’, albeit industrial, then what I saw wasn’t. However this is a different part of the south and one route has a stop at my favourite record store in Stuttgart which would be a highlight before finding the Danube and trundling into Vienna. Germany has some interesting laws, the most worthy being the prohibition of trucks on the roads on Sunday. In fact our 24/7 retail life hasn’t afflicted the Teutons yet. Power to their elbows.
My mission, as I trundle through their land, is to get one person to smile back.
Our Summer has been pants and apart from one freak day it’s been fleeces and umbrellas even into July. I hope I haven’t missed the European heat wave. I am looking forward to something sizzling.
As I set off I’ve amassed nearly 2,000 miles year to date and much of that has been dragging myself up and down the Yorkshire Wolds. I should be in reasonable nick. I post the following snap: I once did a presentation of my expedition across the USA and someone, only half in jest, commented that they never saw a picture of me riding a bike!
Grey Nomad? This phrase apparently is quite common for over 55 independent Australian travellers but it came to my attention from a millennial who’s blog I read about a ride down the east coast of Australia. She was put out that whilst singing along to a bearded pal playing a guitar at an early hour of the morning on a campsite; an elderly male clambered out of his tent to tell the player to stick the said instrument up a place where the sun wouldn’t shine the next day. I feel I was that man. She named him and others as ‘Grey Nomads’ for this outrage. I shall wear the badge with honour.
The first day sees me depart Acaster Malbis and cycle to the ferry in Hull. (Memo to self: do not be rude about Hull as Steve will be unhappy).
Katrina, Favourite Eldest Daughter, is leaving London and her old job to move to Manchester. London was fine but she cannot envisage ever getting onto the property ladder in t’Smoke and the North offers much better prospects. I’m not sure that the fact that her younger sibling is already established there is the draw! (Sophie is flourishing at adidas and now moving into her second flat with her partner). As a professional Human Resources professional Katrina’s job in London was very much a ‘coal face’ type of responsibility looking after the NSL employees servicing Westminster Council’s parking regime as a contractor.
Her previous job was at the plush offices of the National Broadcasting Company in central London. She went from here to hot desking above a shop somewhere in Westminster. Apart from a salary there were no cushy perks. She handled the recruitment and disciplinary issues of over 150 staff. It seemed to be a completely male dominated environment with a large churn in Parking Marshalls (wardens to you and me) of considerable ethnic mix. These people were not highly paid and trudging the streets in winter issuing tickets and on occasion receiving abuse cannot be the easiest way to earn a living.
Dayton started his career playing covers and absorbing his sister’s record collection. It can come as no surprise that he’s garnered considerable affection for some of the icons and great tunes of that time. His own 11 studio albums are always beautifully played and burst with personality thanks to his expressive baritone.
This collection includes some exceptional cuts from Dr Feelgood to Bruce Springsteen. Thankfully there are no dreary B sides by long dead singer songwriters you’ve never heard of. The era spanned on these 10 tracks is the 1970s and 80s. His guitar skills come to the fore and so do his catchy country rock interpretations. They never interfere with the pace or arrangements of the originals yet they are unmistakably Dayton’s, often drenched in pedal steel with his touches of honky tonk and rockabilly.
I can see the attraction of bowling up to the studio and trawling through your record collection to find your faves and then recording them. As he’s said “I’d done almost five years on tour doing two original records back-to-back. I played on a lotta other people’s records. I just needed to take the pressure off, just have some fun.”
I enjoyed the whole album. They all work but maybe his ZZ Top cover of “She’s a Heartbreaker” is the only disappointing orange cream in this box of chocolates. He’s included a revisit to a personally much loved “Just What I Needed”. He put The Cars’ cover on his 2004 Country Soul Brother. Gordon Lightfoot’s “If You Could Read My Mind” is faithfully rendered; given the melody and fabulous words then why tamper with genius? The Elton John/Bernie Taupin 1970 “Country Comfort” feels very easy in the hands of a proper country artist. Yet he can switch to a very different genre such as The Clash’s “Bankrobber”. Dayton’s rockabilly adds to rather than sucks the life out of it thanks to a tincture of punk being added by the drums.
This is a delightful easy listen (and sometimes you need just that).
What an absolute treat! Netflix commissioned Martin Scorsese to direct a movie/documentary of Bob Dylan’s 1975 Rolling Thunder Revue. Film footage and sound recordings were available and Scorsese gathered it all up, added talking heads and released a movie of this odyssey. It is fabulous.
It’s exceptional due to the quality of the music. It catches Dylan just after recording Desire and not long after Blood On The Tracks. Here we hear tracks from both albums along with Dylan dipping into his seminal catalogue from the beginning of his recording career. The passion and voice are magnificent to behold. This was Dylan at his most majestic.
The whole 2 hours and 22 minutes are engrossing. It starts with Dylan collecting and rehearsing a band (mostly the musicians from the Desire sessions); listening to his entourage discuss the concept of this tour of a 4 hour show which included other performers including poet, Alan Ginsberg and watching the mercurial coming and goings of the man.
However, I must break here and add that Scorsese has added fiction. This adds rather than distracts from the proposition. The 78 year old Dylan tries to fill in some of the gaps on events or fellow musicians – he does quip “it happened so long ago I wasn’t even born”. Characters such as Sharon Stone are added to the plot by way of an interview. Here she tells us that she met Bob as a teenager whilst he was on this tour and was invited to join the entourage. Apparently her Kiss sweat shirt and good looks were the attraction. This is hokum.
As is the creation of a Svengali like figure, Stefan Van Dorp, who films the music and back stage action with the intent of eventually releasing his own movie. He never existed, except as Bette Midler’s husband (!) yet his commentary does amplify the tensions and camaraderieof players we see before us. These ‘players’ are musicians, managers, poets, hand bill distributors or record company employees. Continually emphasised are Dylan’s mystic qualities. Those around him seem to offer up little less than awe; they are following the pied piper. It seems the direction and composition of the whole performance each night is fluid and bordering on unstructured. None of this seems to matter as Bob steers his camper van to the next town.
These children of the 60s are performing during interesting times. Scorsese inserts clips of significant events such as Nixon’s resignation and Ford’s installation. The future President Carter is shown in the company of Dylan as well quoting his lyrics. The film also has clips from the immediate the period before the Bicentennial: a time of celebration yet also taking stock of some of the inequalities of 20th Century America. One such is the racially charged incarceration of the boxer, Rubin ‘The Hurricane’ Carter, for the murder that he didn’t commit.
His plight became the main track, “Hurricane”, off 1975’s Desire and here Dylan’s delivery (in his white face paint and hat) is spellbinding as he narrates the story of his abuse. Similarly “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Caroll” from his 1964 The Times They Are A-Changin’ tells a story of the then landed gentry getting away nearly free after the killing of a black maid and mother.This is delivered with vigour, contempt and resignation. Dylan with energy, voice and focus is a sight to behold as he brings my record collection to life. I could list the songs he played but be assured it is all weapon grade.
Guests abound and duets with Joan Baez are notable for their chemistry and intimacy. Roger McGuinn is happy and honoured to be included and abandons other engagements. Joni Mitchell also changes her all plans and signs up to join the tour. According to McGuinn in his Rolling Stone podcast interview she’d decided to only play new songs and the crowd reaction was muted. She wouldn’t relent. Listening to her practise “Coyote” with Dylan and McGuinn (also on acoustic guitars) is a highlight (although, for me, never as electric as her Scorsese captured appearance at The Band’s 1976 Last Waltz concert).
The violinist Scarlet Rivera is at best a Gothic figure of enormous talent, darkness and poise. Her violin infuses all here with such colour and sentiment that is truly memorable and vital. Surprising to see in the line up is the Yorkshireman Mick Ronson. He plays electric lead guitar in the background. Remarkably two years earlier he was embedded in David Bowie’s Spiders From Mars band clad from head to toe in glitter and make up. His then piercing rock guitar licks bear no relationship to this tasteful and complementary accompaniment.
The footage floats around to various locations including hand bills being distributed about the gigs prior to the revue rolling into towns. Unsurprisingly $8.50 per ticket was no problem. However due to the size of the entourage and the small size of the venues the tour makes a loss despite CBS having their arms twisted to find $100,000 as working capital.
If you’re a Dylanologist then you’ve seen this. If your knowledge of Dylan is that of a much revered elderly icon shuffling around with the voice like a crosscut saw then you must see this is. This vibrant, mysterious, supra creative and unique genius is fully on display in his pomp. I’m nearly tempted to buy the 14 disc boxset: Bob Dylan – The Rolling Thunder Revue: The 1975 Live Recordings.
Tony Ives’ Blog 