When I first played
this CD, I was bowled over. And I felt like the ca t that had all the
cream. Except I did not purr and then fall asleep. On the contrary, I
found myself first tapping my feet and drumming my fingers on my desk,
before "taking to the floor" somewhat, and moving around my house as if
given a sudden injection of energy. Such was the infectious quality of
this album, that it got me to my feet.) This is their first album since
1981, and thus their first "post-Rod & Danny Stradling" CD. There have
been a few personnel changes since they started life in 1974, but none
more important than the cataclysmic one in 1982 when the Stradlings left.
At that time it was figured that they were irreplaceable in their roles,
and thus a decision was made to go for an all-fiddle line up.
One thing that hasn't changed in the thirty years of their existence is
their desire to concentrate on English dance tunes, rather than Celtic.
Thus the tunes on this album are almost totally English in source: though
the Basque tune that forms the basis of the wittily-named "Basquet of
Oysters" is a notable exception, and so is a fine Swedish tune that starts
track 11. This latter is so impishly mischievous it almost threatens to
fly off Puck-like into the Swedish Forest, were it not for Heather Horsley's
secure piano keeping the whole tune tethered down, like the guy ropes
on a tent about to take to flight.
[A piano, eh? Did you not just say that they'd gone "all-fiddle" ? Well
no, not quite.] The fiddles are complemented by Neil Gledhill's gutsy
bass saxophone, Jo Freya's flirty provocative tenor sax, and Martin Brinsford's
energetic percussion. And John Adams's trombone provides the stern voice
of reason to make sure that some of the band members do not (musically
speaking, you understand!) "disgrace" themselves and get caught in flagrante
delicto!
But, as I have hinted, best of all I liked Heather Horsley's piano. She
kept a watchful eye over the proceedings, and her piano is there like
a pulse beating through the whole thing. It seems to me she is fitted
with a Duracell battery: given a marathon session, my hunch is that when
the other instrumentalists eventually throw in the towel, she'll still
be going strong, adding her checks and balances to the whole glorious
affair.
But I wouldn't be an honest reviewer if I did not say that I was not pleased
by one tiny aspect relating to this CD. I refer to the current trend to
show a "false start" as a track on the tracklist. Yes, I know every man
and his dog is doing this these days, so why shouldn't Old Swan?
Well, here's for why. They are too good for such gimmicks, that's for
why! Oh no, I am not suggesting that they discard the false start (lets
have it if for no other reason that such fine musicianship NEEDS its rough
edges to remind us there is flesh-and-blood and not computers behind such
sweet sounds). But please do not show it as "track 4". Yes, I realise
that they do indeed show that it lasts just 8 seconds, but the casual
browser picking up this CD in a record shop sees 16 tracks (he is unlikely
to check the individual timings) . when in reality there are 15. He is
being ever-so-gently conned. I am surprised that such a prestigious label
as WildGoose did not veto this.
And one other problem for me. The more I have played this album, the more
I have missed the human voice. (That said, I'm sure Doug Wright of WildGoose
would respond with "it's a DANCE album remember", and he'd be right. But
that still would not invalidate my comment. I could be reviewing a book,
say, of sparkling prose: but that would not stop me from suddenly craving
for some poetry using strict metre and rhyme.)
But minor caveats. If English folk dance music is your thing, then look
no further.
Dai Woosnam
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