Rue Royale: Remedies Ahead... a review

I posted over at Common Folk Music today: a review of Rue Royale's third album, Remedies Ahead.

When I first heard the music of indie band Rue Royale back in 2007, they’d just released their first EP, The Search For Where To Go, which wasn’t an album you could dismiss in a hurry.  Their profound lyrics and spare acoustic sound were a perfect stage for displaying the unusually striking compatibility of their voices and harmonies.

In August, I interviewed Rue Royale’s husband-wife team, Brookln and Ruth Dekker, in anticipation of their September release, third album Remedies Ahead, recorded with the financial help of Kickstarter and a legion of followers.

When the thin white parcel containing our handmade CD dropped through the postbox onto the doormat a few weeks ago, we were just about to leave for a week’s holiday.  In spite of the packing and sorting and excited children and all manner of other craziness going on, I immediately put on Remedies Ahead. And again, and again: through icing two huge chocolate fudge cakes, ticking jobs off my to-do list, and making dinner for yet more people.

Remedies Ahead is just the sort of album that you want to keep listening to over and over.  The melodies are entrancing, with a hint of American West Coast trance-folk-pop finesse.  Beguiling harmonies possess just the right blend of lyrical loveliness and musical perfection.  Rue Royale have matured beautifully; their earlier unadorned sound is gone, but the gorgeous simplicity of gentle beats and harmonies remains, augmented by co-producer Paul Pilot’s electronic influences.  This is a musically strong collection of contradictorily fragile songs, exploring themes of change and dark days in relationships and life, ultimately ending with an upbeat forward-facing decisiveness.

Whispery vocals immediately pull the listener in as the album begins with “Changed My Grip”, an originally folky song that Rue Royale have played live for a while but now recorded with new sounds.  Other stand-outs on the album are first single “Set Out To Discover”, short and sweet love song “Carving Up Islands”, and the lyrically fascinating “Tiny Parcels”: “What if I could gather all the souls in the world, Leave them wrapped like tiny parcels outside your door, Would you let me see the inside of your house…”

One of my favourite tracks is “Pull Me Like a String”, with its gripping refrain “You pull me like a string, you pull me right in two, you put me out to the darkness and pull me back to you, You pull me like a string, you pull me right in two, You cause me to go blind yet I still look for you” describing a figurative dance of emotions that is echoed in the swing of the music and the relentless beat.  Another is “Brought Up Somewhere Else”, with its sense of geographical displacement: “Ancient are these rolling hills, Aged brought up somewhere else”.  I could personally identify with this one, having lived in the UK now for thirteen years as an expat American, similar to Brookln.  I also liked the rhythmic catchiness of honest anthem “Try As They Might”, with it’s memorably repeated line “Try as they might, they cannot get me down”.

“Dark Cloud Canopies”, “Almost Ghostly”, and “Shouldn’t Have Closed My Eyes” are melancholic explorations of feelings and relationships.  “Settle In Settle Down” considers the uncertainty within decisions we have to make as we walk towards the future: “I know it well the feeling, that we’re both circling around, I know the roads that we’re found on are often paved with doubt”.

“Every Little Step” is Remedies Ahead‘s perfect ending: “Working on getting my mind around this road ahead, Can’t go back can’t go backwards”.  This determination to push on in spite of the darkness is what characterises this ultimately positive album.

Interview -- Eliza Carthy

We saw Eliza Carthy last week on her Wayward Daughter tour with Jim Moray and the Wayward Band at the MAC in Birmingham, where I interviewed her for Common Folk Music.  Read the full interview here.

Eliza Carthy‘s history is like a colourful mural, painted with a wealth of experience over twenty-one years of touring and detailed with an impressive discography. I attended a gig recently at the MAC in Birmingham [UK] starring this favourite daughter of English folk-dom and her current collaborators Jim Moray and the Wayward Band, and had a chance to catch up with her in person. I found her down-to-earth, real, quite the English northerner, with an ability to interpret folk music using an alternative, out-of-the box approach. That’s her… and suddenly the title of her biography and compilation album makes so much sense.  We talked about her music-steeped history, the state of English folk music, and how she balances her busy life as a mother and musician.

Your parents were musical pioneers here in the UK during the 1960’s folk revival.  Do you have any favourite memories from your early years in connection with the musical environment you were brought up in?  

Well, yes I do.  Aside from being brought up on the UK festival and folk music scene, falling asleep under folk club tables and things like that, I’m very emotionally connected to the Sidmouth and Whitby folk festivals…  I have lots and lots of good memories.  I remember Jody Stecher coming to stay at our house as a child, when he was touring the UK with Krishna Bhatt, and with his wife as well, and I’ve spent many happy hours at their house in California.  Once we had a lovely Cajun family come to stay with us, and they cooked jambalaya in the back garden; it was absolutely amazing! I have some very good memories of the American folk scene.  I grew up going around with my parents [Martin Carthy and Norma Waterson] when I was a teenager and that included (when I got a bit older) doing their American tours as well, playing the Iron Horse, and the Ashokan folk camp, Davis and Elkins College in West Virginia, places like that.  On the English folk scene, growing up in a musical family, I knew a lot of traditional singers; not just performers, but people who had learned music from their families, like the Copper Family, Walter Pardon, people like that, so… I feel I’ve had a very rich musical life.

Was there ever a period where you thought “This is what I’m going to do”, or did it just happen?

I did think that I probably would end up doing this. I think it was a bit more “Barbie pop star” in my head, but [laughs]… I pretty much saw myself doing this kind of thing.  Bob Dylan was a big hero of mine when I was a kid, troubadour songwriters, you know; I saw myself there with my baby on my back… that sort of thing.  A nice thought, but not very practical!

Where did the title of Wayward Daughter come from?

It came from the biography that was written last year, so I guess it was Sophie Parkes’ idea.  Originally, the album was supposed to be released in conjunction with the biography but we had some delays so it came out about six months later.

Do you ever feel that people are trying to stereotype you as a particular type of artist?

Not that people are trying to, but… I think that people encounter you at one or another stage in your life or in their lives, and you will always be that thing to them. So in some ways I was at my most successful when I first started because my second album [Red Rice] got the Mercury prize and it sold close to 70,000 copies, so… a lot of people see me as a tinkerer, as somebody who likes to try folk music with beat.  It’s part of what I do but I’m also a songwriter, and there are lots of strings to my bow these days.  I do perform in these big “bells and whistles” bands, but I also perform solo, and with my father, and still with my family regularly as well.

Your roots are steeped in English folk heritage and I really admire the way you’ve started with these traditional English songs and just taken them somewhere else, often incorporating other cultures (like with Imagined Village) and other collaborations you’ve been part of.  Do you feel like you’re on a mission to keep these old songs alive or do you just sing them because you enjoy them, or is it a mix of the two?

I think it’s a bit of a mix of the two, really. I can relax a little bit now, but certainly when I started [aged 16] English folk music was a lot less well known than it is now. We have this incredibly rich scene of young performers now playing English folk music in various different kinds of ways. We have bands that get into the charts, and we have festivals full of people playing English folk music.  In 1995 it was not like that at all, so I did feel the need to wave my own particular flag.  Celtic music was very popular in the 90’s and I felt like it was swamping any interest in our own music.  I knew so many people who played Celtic music and didn’t know that English folk music existed.  There was a huge Cajun scene here as well in the 90s and they were playing the blues, and they were playing old-timey music, and nobody was playing English folk music. I really felt that English musicians needed to pay attention to their own culture before they started having a go on other people’s!

Definitely.  I know when I first moved over here, I thought traditional English music was “Riverdance”!  I’ve learned a lot since then.

Yeah, well, and you know, whilst I adore The Lord of the Rings –I do adore The Lord of the Rings—  Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings as an English saga; he didn’t write it to be full of Irish pipes or indeed Finnish music, this sort of wifty wafty Celtic music everywhere.  These were things that were written specifically for the English, you know, and it does grate. I want people to know that there are historically accurate and also exciting versions of our own stuff that’s out there. Filmmakers need to make exciting and “out there” choices, you know; there’s only so many times you can hear the modern Irish pipes in a medieval Scottish movie!

Are there any out-of-character cover versions that you’d like to do, that you haven’t done yet? 

Out-of-character cover versions would have to be something like “She Moves Through the Fair” for me –something I would never do!– or “Loch Lomond” or “Danny Boy”; I don’t know!  They’re good songs in their own way, but…! Me and the girls –the fiddle band I play with [Carthy, Hardy, Farrell, & Young]– we’ve been thinking about doing an album of Julie Andrews covers.  I have two children now, two little girls, so I watch Mary Poppins a lot!

You seem to have an ability to tie together the past and the future, creating this music that has the potential to be appreciated for many years to come.  How do you feel about the expectations on you?  Do you think people have expectations about you being “the future of folk music”? 

No, not anymore.  I’ve been around too long now.  People think I’m part of the woodwork; I’m at that stage now!

Have you thought about touring further afield?

I have.  We’re touring the States at the Easter break next year: myself and Saul Rose and our regular guitarist Dave Delarre.  We’ll be promoting Wayward Daughter. Oh, and then I’m going to New Zealand with my dad [Martin Carthy] in October. I’m all about Europe at the moment.  I’m trying to get into Europe because there’s this huge folk music scene there and they have no idea that English music exists.  That’s my little bugbear at the moment, trying to let the Europeans know that we’re here.

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I get the impression that you’re involved in a lot more than touring and recording.  What are you doing closer to home?

Well, I have my two little girls now, so I’m doing that; but the next big thing, aside from recording and touring, is that I’ve taken the position of associate artist at the Sage Gateshead for the next two years.  I’ll be curating different shows, putting stuff on, interesting collaborations, also working with the Sunderland jazz degree course, and the Newcastle traditional music degree course as well.  I’ve got some ideas for projects involving traditional English percussion and dance, so I’m going to be busy. It’s going to be good fun!

How do you find a balance with all your busy-ness? 

I just treat it day-to-day, to be honest.  I try to give my children as much time as I can.  Since their father and I broke up, they tend to go with him now when I work. And it’s hard, because I miss them, but no other mother of toddlers gets the kind of sleep that I get sometimes and I feel very grateful!  It was harder last year when we were breaking up and everything was up in the air, but I think we’ve found a nice balance now; things are really settling for them and they both seem really happy. My eldest is starting school in September, and she’s really excited about that. I’m so proud of her.

Last question… Are you one of those strictly-strong-tea-swilling Northerners or do you sneak in the occasional cup of coffee while deep in late-night writing sessions?

No… I only have a cup of tea with my breakfast!  I don’t drink tea all day.  I have coffee in the afternoons and then usually, gin in the evenings. Or wine, or rum.  I’m quite fond of rum.

An Introduction: Penny & Sparrow

I posted at Common Folk Music today: An Introduction: Penny & Sparrow.

Alela Diane: Beyond Farewell... a review

I wrote a review of Alela Diane's latest album, About Farewell, for Common Folk Music. Don't miss hearing this beautiful album; it's set to be one of my top favourites this year.   

                   

Alela Diane’s first album, The Pirate’s Gospel, captivated me from the beginning, with “Tired Feet”, right to the final notes of “Oh! Mama!”  Her gently strummed guitar and soothing voice were a welcome accompaniment to both busy mornings at home and long car journeys in the rain through the Welsh countryside. Her second offering, To Be Still, uniquely captured an essence of “home” for me.  Something about the imagery, the descriptions, the stories reminded me of my roots in a way that no music has for a long, long time. Maybe it was her high-cheekboned pioneer woman face peering from the album cover through blurred, shining lace.  I think that by the time her third release [Alela Diane & Wild Divine] arrived on the scene, I was so stuck on the first two that it made little impression on me.  I’m not brilliant at moving on quickly from instantly-loved favourites.  Sometimes I listen to particular albums for years before truly “discovering” them.  

But it’s this fourth recording from the Portland, Oregon-based singer that I’ve been waiting for.  About Farewell was definitely worth the wait, more than I ever could have imagined.  It played all morning as I was deep in a long candle-making session. As I worked, amidst the mild distraction of creating candles, I fell in love with About Farewell.

Diane’s voice has strengthened noticeably.  Her range has always been remarkable but on this album it’s obvious that she’s more than capable of everything she attempts.  Her wisely scant instrumentation allows her clear, beautiful voice to shine out and draw attention to her repetitive, honest lyrics.  It’s rare to find an album like this, with every single song possessing a powerful emotional punch that pulls you in right away.  She has returned to the delicate acoustic sound she does so well, with a newer, deeper maturity.  She pens all her own lyrics, which have evolved from the sweet story-telling of The Pirate’s Gospel into personal poetry that makes you feel as if she’s telling you all about herself.

“Colorado Blue” wistfully recalls a doomed relationship, gently introducing the album’s theme of lost love.  Next is “About Farewell”, in my opinion a true classic, with a chorus that I just can’t get out of my head:  “I heard somebody say that the brightest lights cast the biggest shadows, so honey, I’ve got to let you go…”   “The Way We Fall” follows hard on the title track’s heels, with Diane’s signature softly strummed guitar and the repetitive lyrical phrases that she does so well:  “I didn’t know it was the last time, we never know when it’s the last time, I didn’t know it was the last time…”  

We begin to understand the darker intricacy of the relationship she’s mourning after hearing “Nothing I Can Do”.  “Lost Land” is the most subtle song on the album, as she questions herself and finally declares: “I’m a lost land in the blue.”  “I Thought I Knew” seems to be a further exposition of the deep fissures within this dying relationship.  “I called you up and drew you in, I thought I knew you, but I was wrong… I’d only just arrived when I foresaw the end.”  “Before the Leaving” tells of her touring lifestyle, with constant references to the storm of the impending break-up, returning home with the final poignancy of the line: “Now there is wood that you stacked, and it’s on our front porch; it’s staring me down, and it tells me you left.”  “Hazel Street” and “Black Sheep” are slow story ballads, while “Rose & Thorn” ties up the strings of this heartbreak with regretful lyrics like “O, the mess I’ve made, a crimson rose, a hundred thorns”.

Diane split with her husband last year and it seems as if writing this album was some kind of cathartic release for her, helping her walk through saying goodbye in the midst of what appears to have been an incredibly painful break-up. After listening to About Farewell, it sounds as if she’s also working through other damaging relationships in her life. She does it so well.  About Farewell is wonderfully melancholic, but not depressive. It is beautifully sad, but not hopeless. There is a timeless, elegant feel to the entire album, hinting that Alela Diane will someday deserve a place in the golden circle of iconic singer-songwriters.  In my opinion, she already does.

Ten Strings and a Goat Skin: Corbeau... a review

I wrote a review of Canadian band Ten Strings and a Goat Skin's new album, Corbeau. Read it here at Common Folk Music.

I’ve just finished listening to Corbeau for the second time and have repeatedly found myself unconsciously toe-tapping along to the music. These guys can play! Calling themselves a “bilingual traditional music trio”, they hail from Prince Edward Island. I’ll be dreadfully honest here and say I was initially interested in them merely because they were from Anne of Green Gables land.

I really can’t remember the last time I heard of a three-piece band, stomping out cèilidh melodies and occasionally singing along, from Prince Edward Island.  Actually, I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard of a band from Prince Edward Island.  I haven’t a single word to say in my defence, either, except that my knowledge of P.E.I. is rather narrowly confined to the Edwardian era of L.M. Montgomery’s novels!   Thinking about this Canadian island’s historical connection to settlers from Scotland and Ireland, it makes sense that their influences clearly sound Celtic. They self-released Corbeau last month, an epitome of toe-tapping wonder.  The entire album makes you want to get up and dance, full of good cheer.  My four-year-old daughter subconsciously gave in to the music and went to fetch her ballet shoes as Corbeauplayed in the background.

Corbeau has a perfect balance of music and vocals: enough lyrical interest to keep the album from morphing into a full-on cèilidh, and wordless silence during instrumental tunes when the music speaks alone.  Band members Jesse Pèriard [guitar and banjo], Caleb Gallant [cajon, bodhrán, djembe], and Rowen Gallant [violin, mandolin, and bazouki] blend traditional music with their own compositions.

“Huginn and Muninn” kicks off the album.  It’s an uplifting, fiddle-led, tradition-fed tune.  Sufficiently joyous, we move on to “The Grey Funnel Line”, driven by an energetically percussive guitar. “The Night They Moved the House” is a classic story-ballad, ending with a hand-clapping, catchy chorus.  “Kick the Crow” brings a minor note into the mix, but is none the less spirited, with impressive fiddle-work from the band’s violinist, Rowen Gallant.  Introducing a more sedate –or inebriated– note into the mix is a rendition of an old Cajun drinking ballad, “Parlez-Nous À Boire”, loosely translated “Let’s talk about drinking”.  The slower thread continues with “The Uniform”, a regretful goodbye from a soldier dying far from home.  Next is an instant pick-me-up, an integrated trio of fiddling tunes: “Napoleon’s: The Drunken Police Car/The Box Reels 2/Music for a Found Harmonium”.  I love the wistfulness of “Farewell to Uik”, which follows, along with more dancing music: “The Liffey Reels” and “The Byzantine Reels: Fir Bolg/Tastes Like Grapes”.  At this point, the album appears to be finishing on a gentle note with the sweet French “Vive la Rose”. Instead, a splendidly robust version of “Bully in the Alley” blasts out right after, bringing everything to a close with just the right amount of fun.

FUN is the operative word here, I think!  Ten Strings and a Goat Skin are clearly having a great time with their music as they blaze their island trail.  Corbeau is sufficiently promising for such a young band and I’m looking forward to seeing where their musical path takes them.   It’s sure to go beyond the borders of their native P.E.I.

Eliza Carthy: Wayward Daughter... a review

I posted over at Common Folk Music today: a review of Eliza Carthy's album Wayward Daughter, released 13 June. 

Ghost on Ghost... a review

I wrote a review for the blog Common Folk Music and it was up today!  Follow the link to check it out:

Iron and Wine: Ghost on Ghost review 

I’ve been an Iron & Wine fan ever since I heard the percussive rain-like sounds of Sam Beam’s fourth EP Woman King years ago. It took my Pear Jam-loving musician husband Dan a little while to catch up but nowadays he’s probably the more obvious enthusiast out of the two of us. Iron & Wine transitioned us from the music of our early twenties, bestowing us with a deeper appreciation for the simpler Americana sound that is indicative of the singer-songwriter of our generation.

Dan pre-ordered the latest album this past spring. As usual, I am more cautious. I always prefer the old instead of the new, the past over the present, the mature cheddar rather than the mild. I have this innate feeling of suspicion every time new albums from my favourite bands or singers loom on the horizon. Can they match up to expectations after the brilliance of past releases? Can they incorporate varying musical influences without compromising their style and individuality? I haven’t even bothered with the last but one Iron & Wine album, Kiss Each Other Clean. It’s just too different; and yes, I am resistant to change!

So Ghost on Ghost arrives, and almost immediately Dan starts listening to it constantly. Initially, I am not impressed. Lyrically, Ghost on Ghost is Sam Beam, both in the flowing poetry and the whispering vocals. Musically it’s a different kettle of fish, and this is what I’m struggling to come to terms with. My favourite Iron & Wine album is The Creek Drank the Cradle; and the smooth structured 70’s style of Ghost on Ghost feels so far from the raw, earlier Americana. The contrast between these two is stark. It’s like that jolt of shock I’d have if I opened my closet one morning to discover that the worn hippie dresses hanging there have been replaced by trendy trouser suits. Or the consternation you’d experience returning to your simple, rural log cabin at the end of the day to find an enormous RV parked in the spot where your wooden shack used to be.

For me, a grudging appreciation of Ghost on Ghost doesn’t happen until I hear most of it performed live a few weeks ago at an Iron & Wine gig in Manchester. Dan and I sit motionless on the front row and watch this cohesive show play out in front of us, featuring a talented band. The sounds of the new album’s songs are impressive when performed live: smooth, fun, jazzy, verging on easy listening music but slipping back to folk whenever you start to worry. The best part of the gig by far is when the band exits the stage, leaving just Sam Beam with his Taylor. Here he gives us the Iron & Wine “buffet section”, as he calls it. This acoustic interlude is a contrasting breath of fresh outdoor air in the midst of the smoky sophisticated perfection that characterises the evening.

Ghost on Ghost is a bearded festival-goer who’s cut off his locks and donned a business suit. This is earthy but somehow posh Americana, no longer wistful or longing but fully in control, a tiny bit tatty around the edges yet polished shiny clean. It’s too bland to deserve the experimental tag, but it is good quality, diverse music and will no doubt appeal to a wider crowd than earlier albums did. It’s the latest installation in Iron & Wine’s patchwork musical journey, and Sam Beam isn’t finished yet. I do wonder where he will go from here. I can’t help but hope that someday he’ll move away from the jazz club and return to the woods.

Iron & Wine... Manchester, 30 May 2013

Our four little madpeople crowded in a wild heap on the sofa tonight watching "Return of the Jedi" under Nanny's watchful eye. This idyllically peaceful home scenario also included Grandad, who turned up later to support with the littles and help with laundry, and James, who drank an ungodly amount of espresso so he could stay up all night to finish his university assignments.

Dan and I left them all to their own devices and ran away to Manchester, where we caught up with the lovely Meg before attending an Iron & Wine gig we've had tickets for since February, at Manchester Opera House.

I've never been to Manchester before aside from numerous rushed panicky early morning airport runs when we think we're going to run into awful traffic and miss the flight, or those dead-tired return journeys when the trip is already a distant memory.

I loved it. Restored Industrial Age and Victorian architecture dominates this city that was once the industrial hub of England.  It might still be; I have no clue about such things.  I only know that the feel of the place is similar to Edinburgh.  It has that similar vibe of old and new jumbled up together, like scrambled eggs when you add cheese: the tangy, mature flavour is an exciting addition that you'd miss irrevocably if it was just plain old eggs.

The opera house is one of those old-fashioned grand designs, with a warren of passages inside leading to mysterious doors that open into the stalls, where we were seated.  We consulted our tickets as we walked down the rows, until we reached the front.  Yep, the front.  Dan had no idea when he booked the tickets that we had front row seats.  Pretty much right in the middle, too.

It took us a while to get over the surprise, but when we did there was so much awesomeness going on that we knew we would have been in love with the evening no matter where our seats had been.

I can't remember the name of the opening singer.  She had an amazingly powerful voice but, possibly due to nervousness, had little control over it and her words were frequently unintelligible because of her tendency to put her mouth to close to the microphone. Never mind. She had a beautiful smile, and we clapped kindly and enthusiastically for her because it was only her second gig.

Never mind, because we knew we were in for a treat.

Sam Beam, aka Iron & Wine, is one of those unassuming people who just walks onto a stage and owns it.  He took control, he and The Legendary Beard, which practically has a separate identity of its own. He looks exactly like I imagined the real Pa to look in the Little House books, totally unlike the curly-haired, grinning Michael Landon who played him in the 1970s TV series.  See, I'm right.

I can't really explain exactly how great it was.  There were lots of other good musicians and backing vocalists.  Together, they were a cohesive musical unit with perfect technique and a high standard.  It's always satisfying to know that you're getting your money's worth with a quality performance.  

However, the true enjoyment of experiencing Iron & Wine live lies in the genius poetry of the songs.  Sam Beam is a modern-day William Wordsworth.  Poetry pours out of his mouth, sung to a soothing musical score.

I'm sure I could discuss this extensively with my musician husband Dan [who nearly had a seizure during the onstage set-up watching a careless roadie manhandle one of Sam Beam's Taylor guitars] and give a more technical review of the musicality of the evening, but I'm going to just keep it to "magnificent" and leave it at that.

[You might notice the omission of my tradition of two music videos at the end of the review.  I haven't added them because all photography and videography was banned this evening during the gig at Manchester Opera House. I thought it would be a bit rude to just throw a two-year-old YouTube video onto this blog post!]

Rue Royale @ The Malt Cross... 07 May 2013

Tonight was a wonderful evening composed of catching up with old friends, listening to quality music, and drinking fairly great coffee!

The venue was a Victorian-era music hall, with glass-paned arched ceiling, a balcony-style second floor curving round the hall below protected by iron railings covered in fairy lights, and wooden floors.

The downstairs' floor was augmented by interesting groups of glass tiles.  I know nothing about the history of these particular types of buildings, but I wondered if the glass tile arrangements were designed to catch the light and reflect it, probably quite necessary in the days when all illumination was provided by gas lamps and candlelight.  

We enjoyed fresh coffees and drinks from the bar downstairs, but chose to sit upstairs in a cosy corner.

As amazing as the place was, these guys were the reason why we were there!  They don't disappoint... ever. They just get better with time.

Just like this historical gem hidden in the midst of a rapidly modernising Nottingham.

Rue Royale's third album, "Remedies Ahead", is out in August. 

Rue Royale... album number three!

Yesterday's "open book" post was an attempt to express how it felt to immerse myself in British culture so long ago, as well as try to understand and pinpoint my own identity.  It will be the first of many such "open book" posts that deal with the Big Change of this year: moving back to the States.

In practical terms, we are filing a petition for Dan's visa.  Once that clears, he has a medical and then actually sends in paperwork for a visa.  This will probably include an interview at our family's most-visited building in London: the good old American embassy.  There are financial costs every step of the way, so we have to walk this path slowly and carefully.  We don't yet have a leaving date, as our timeline is completely dictated by the speed of governmental paperwork.

For future posts, I'm also going to write about how I arrived here so many years ago, and why.  I think reliving a bit of my own history is going to be fun, and help me regain some of my memory, which has mysteriously gone missing over the last decade of parenting!

For today, though, I want to write about our favourite Anglo-American musical duo: friends Brook and Ruth Dekker, who together are Rue Royale.  Ruth, who already had known Dan for years, became a good friend to me too during my first year here in the Midlands.  She later sang at our wedding in the States, and then went on to fall in love with Brook, and they were married, settling on the opposite side of the Atlantic to us.  They stayed in the States initially, but later moved here to pursue touring in the coffeehouses of Europe. 

Short people in our house had fevers and congestion, so Dan and I had to see them separately over this weekend.  I went to Birmingham to the amazing Ort Cafe to hear them play on Saturday night; while Dan went with our mate Kemp to Manchester on Monday evening to do the same.

Their acoustic folk-pop sound and style has evolved gradually since that first LP we heard five years back.  They retain a distinctly melodious acoustic sound, voices alternately blending and harmonising, dreamy and dark.  I'm no musician, so I can't go into technicalities here, but I think in their new material there's a lighter, livelier lilt, with slightly more percussion and electric influences. 

The great news is, you're going to be able to hear some of this new stuff soon, too, if we can support them in their quest to record a third album!  Find out more about it here:

And visit their Kickstarter page to make a donation towards this album! 

:: This Moment ::

Joining in today with SouleMama's "This Moment" link fun: a Friday ritual --no words-- capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savour, and remember.  Link to your "moment" in the comments below!

Mumford & Sons... 07 December 2012

When we weren't able to get tickets for this gig, we gave it up as a lost cause and decided we'd wait a decade or so until they're less popular and playing smaller venues, a la The Levellers.  However, just a few weeks ago, a friend gave us the choice to buy two tickets if we were interested. 

So it was that this evening we found ourselves, with five other friends, in a huge arena, watching these guys play and feeling very privileged to have the chance to do so! 

And was it ever worth it.  I was given their first album three years ago and immediately fell in love with their music.  That was back when they were playing pubs and clubs; I never imagined we'd see them someday in a venue filled with thousands of other concertgoers.  However, times are changing and folk music, especially folk music like these guys play it, is currently riding an increasing wave of popularity. No longer enjoyed merely by typical Iron & Wine/The Bushburys/Eliza Carthy/Kate Rusby/Bob Dylan fans, everyone seems to be appreciating a bit of folk nowadays.

They are probably most correctly termed a "folk-rock" band.  However, their music has nothing of the punk element possessed by The Levellers. This was a squeaky clean gig in comparison to our night out a few weeks ago! Instead of rebellious, anarchic, middle-aged, drunken anger, there's a genuine wistful spirituality and wandering tone in all of Mumford & Sons' songs; elementally, they are constructed with lyrical hints of Shakespearean phrases and coloured with Biblical imagery.  

After an hour and a half of music --virtually non-stop-- they left the stage and the noise in the audience was deafening as the crowd asked for an encore.  However, the band weren't finished at all.  On the floor way below us, we noticed the crowd in the standing-only section part slightly and then rush forward, and in an instant, lights revealed the band gathered near the sound desk in the centre of the floor. Here, with fans massed closely, they played two unplugged pieces. When the lights went down, we all clapped and prepared to encore yet again; however, seconds later they appeared back on stage!  The way they kept us guessing about the end of the gig was brilliant.  Their finishing piece, after a two-hour performance, was a loud and fun cover of the Beatles' song, "With a Little Help From My Friends".

The only unfortunate element of Mumford & Sons is their incredible popularity right now.  I mean, they've just been nominated for six Grammy awards! [I love the fact that this British band's album is nominated in the "Best Americana Album" category.] Why unfortunate? I find it hard to believe that everyone in the arena tonight fully appreciated their musical genius. So many people follow musicians only because they're "on-trend", and tonight's audience was, predictably, completely infiltrated by hipsters.  Just for the record, in that massive crowd, I saw no other dreadies, unlike our Levellers evening when the place was swarming with them.  Thus, I'm overjoyed to report that crazy heads of dreads don't appear to be trending!  

So, as tradition dictates for gig reviews on this blog, here are two musical selections: one, a live version of their Grammy-nominated song "I Will Wait", and two; the melancholic "Where Are You Now?", one of the songs they played last night during their unplugged stint in the centre of the arena, filmed by an enthusiastic member of the crowd of fifteen thousand.

The Levellers... 23 November 2012

Dan and I used the excuse of my birthday and our English anniversary by going to see English folk-punk [yes, really!] rockers The Levellers play last night.  For six months, we had tickets for The Civil Wars at the beginning of November, in Coventry, but they cancelled their tour and we missed out.  We don't often go to see live music, so we felt as if we needed to make up for missing the Wars and booked tickets for this Levellers gig. Dan saw them play live in the 1990's and we often listen to one of their albums, Levelling the Land.

Last night in Birmingham, we travelled back in time to the mid-1990's. Long hair, dreads [yes, I blended in --sort of], Celtic tattoos, and ageing rock fans who were teens when Kurt Cobain died were everywhere. Most of the audience, a wildly enthusiastic fan-base who sang along to every song, were absolutely hammered.  The crowded floor was soaked with lager and in the centre of the room, close to where we were standing, there was a mosh reminiscent of a tribal dance taking place. The guys on security were much busier than they were at the Newton Faulkner gig we attended at the same venue [different room] earlier this year!

For the most part, I like The Levellers.  Their style of folk music on speed [probably all too true] is energising and infuses the crowd with a feeling of fun and community.

I don't like their attitude.  It goes with the punk-rebel territory, of course, and as much as I do agree with some of their political views, they promote their ideas in a slightly narrow-minded fashion that leaves no room for disagreement and polarises any nay-sayers. Their anthemic hit "One Way" says it best: "There's only one way of life, and that's your own, your own, your own!" I happen to fully disagree with this attitude towards life.  If I fully lived my life My Own Way that would be one selfish mess, in which there'd be no room for other people or God.

Newton Faulkner... 3 May 2012

After a long, busy day with children and food preparation and tidying and socialising and everything else that goes on around here, the last thing I want to do is drag myself out to Pilates on a Thursday evening. But I do. Almost every Thursday. This past Thursday, though, going out into the chilly rain felt like a real treat. Because instead of trudging off to tone pregnancy-weakened core muscles, I went out with Dan to see Newton Faulkner play in Birmingham! Newton Faulkner is a ginger-haired middle child and a talented guitarist, songwriter and singer. He seems to possess a great deal of self-confidence, clearly doing his own thing when it comes to music. We first saw him play live after winning tickets to an iTunes gig held at the Apple store in London, back in October 2007. After an amazing evening of music, we sat in a nearby La Tasca and each drank two double espressos to keep us awake for our drive home! In spring 2008 we went to see him play again, this time in Birmingham. That was an epic gig; Angus and Julia Stone opened and were brilliant --the first time we'd seen them play live! Back in Birmingham on Thursday night, Newton was as brilliant as ever. It goes without saying that he is a talented musician; yet his extroverted conversational skill onstage surpasses that of any other musician I've seen. He sets the audience immediately at ease with a combination of English-style small talk [complete with mug of tea--allegedly!], and a bit of mild grammar school humour, which is completely disarming and so entertaining that ninety minutes of music and dialogue passes quickly.

The Civil Wars... 13 March 2012

My Christmas present from Dan was tickets to see these guys play live in Birmingham this month.  

As the weeks passed, my first job as a doula loomed, and my mother-to-be was resolutely carrying these twins to full-term.  Her expected due date was the fourteenth of March.  Understandably, Dan began to worry that her labour would clash with our date out to see The Civil Wars play at the HMV Institute in Birmingham.

The evening in question arrived and no twins appeared to be on the way, so we left our kids with their brave babysitter and headed for the city to enjoy some live music. 

This was the opening night of The Civil Wars' first-ever headlining tour of Europe.  The crowd was eager and excited, and we were standing behind the loudest hecklers I've ever heard.  Enthusiastic Guy, right in front of me, couldn't stop drawing attention to himself.  He shouted, he wolf-whistled, he addressed the performers by name, and occasionally turned around to me to apologise: "I'm so excited I'm going to scratch the skin right off my face!!!!"  

Okay.  Fortunately, he calmed down after John Paul [of the performing duo] said rather pointedly, "I think that's enough now, dude."

To be honest, they were brilliant playing live... I can almost sympathise with Enthusiastic Guy.  

After the gig, suitably contented after such a great show, we walked through the chill late evening to the multi-storey car park where Roosevelt waited patiently.  Less than two minutes into our walk, Dan wondered aloud if I'd heard from Emma, my mother-to-be.

I opened my mouth and at that moment, from my coat pocket, my phone rang.  We continued walking as I pulled it out and heard Emma's voice on the other end telling me her waters had just broken.

Timing.  Sometimes it really is just everything.  Thanks, babies, for letting me have my Christmas present!

"Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera..."

When I was fourteen, my youngest sibling was born. In the same year, I became a chicken farmer; I read all the books Conan Doyle wrote about Sherlock Holmes; I made homemade doughnuts for the first time; and I discovered the Phantom of the Opera.  

My first introduction to this story was through English composer Andrew Lloyd Webber's 1980's musical masterpiece. However, being a nerd book lover, the original book by Gaston Leroux quickly made its way into my possession, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  There was a strangely pleasant lack of fluidity in the English translation of the original French; and the sad, tragic romance, so similar to other well-loved Gothic novels, as well as a spell-binding introduction into the magical realm of the late-19th-century Paris Opera House all combined to create an intriguing world so different from the practical reality of my own.

My best friend, Hannah, was similarly appreciative of the Phantom.  Never capable of simply enjoying a good story, we immediately began optimistic plans for our own production of Phantom of the Opera.  These plans joined a queue that included a Jane Eyre musical and an Ivanhoe play, if I remember correctly. There might have been more. We were very ambitious.  Hannah worked on musical scores and librettos while I drew costumes and thought about sewing, makeup, and materials.  I played the piano and Hannah sang; she played the piano and I sang... or at least tried to.  

But time crept by quickly, and we were so busy.  Hannah had voice lessons; I went to art classes.  We both learned French and, for a few months, Italian. I don't know when we passed the day that marked us out as being too grown-up to have so many never-to-be-carried-out ideas, but it must have come and gone without us knowing.  Before long, I was in Scotland at Bible college, and Hannah was beginning university studies.  My college days started me down a path that would end up in my immigration to the UK.  Hannah's musical studies were more apropos to our original theatrical plans and took her into the world of opera.

And years passed. 

But how suddenly they fell away and were gone in an instant.  

Yesterday, I found myself sitting with two friends [ironically, both named Hannah] in the Royal Albert Hall, for a twenty-fifth anniversary performance of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom musical.

It was the third time I've seen it on stage, and I can't qualify it as being the best rendition.

But everything seemed to come together to make it the best experience: timing, a long-loved story, friends' names, music, merging into a beautiful clash of sound and light and memories.

We sat in Hyde Park afterwards, in the golden afternoon sunshine of our waning Indian summer, and basked in the afterglow of our adventure.

Coo was napping in a state of total exhaustion.  She had spent three hours playing in Hyde Park with a very patient [and equally exhausted] Daddy.

Link

Here's a great interview with one of my favourite bands.  I love listening to their music, and seeing them play live is always a treat!

Two Things

First thing. We've just returned from listening to Rue Royale make some music for a polite, quiet crowd at the Yardbird again.  I know, I know, I always go on about them... but they deserve it.  They're good!

Second thing. I've hinted at the possibility of drastic stuff-reduction measures looming on the horizon, but so far we've done nothing more radical than a few small clear-outs of clothes and toys.  To be honest, we don't have a huge amount of possessions; we're just feeling the need to reduce the amount of things we do have to the minimum. So... we're on Day 2 of our massive de-cluttering binge, with the help of a book entitled 30 Day Clutter Bootcamp.  Take it from this speed-reader; I've given the entire book a quick once over and it's amazing! I am the type of person who loves to read instructions for everything.  30 Day Clutter Bootcamp gives me exactly what I want with minimal fuss and no complications.  Each day has it's own specific set of items to focus on: music, books, photographs, etc. All clearing-out sessions are timed to avoid burnout, and there are many useful tips to employ along the way. 

There was probably a third thing.  But it's really late, and I've forgotten it.  Tomorrow promises to be a very long day, as usual, and I need to stop all this thinking.

I'll leave you with some Rue Royale.  Can't resist! 

Amsterdam Acoustics - Rue Royale : Blame from AMSTERDAMACOUSTICS on Vimeo.

:: Thirty Day Challenge :: Day 30

This is the last day of the Thirty Day Song Challenge.  I think it's been a few more than thirty days for me... but I've finished it!  Music is a huge part of my life, and our life together as a family; it's been fun to share some of these melodies that trace out the sounds of our days.

So, Day 30: "A song that was a favourite at this time last year". I still like it. But in May 2010, it was particularly poignant:  Misty Edwards’ "Soul Cry".

:: Thirty Day Challenge :: Day 29

A song from your childhood... 

And that would be something by Keith Green.  My parents had all of his albums - on vinyl records.  

Respect to the 'fro, the beard, the piano playing. Favourite song of his is definitely "Your Love Broke Through".