One
thing you may have picked up about my displacement activities during this
pandemic, is that I’ve enthusiastically embraced the phenomenon of online
shopping. Last week I spoke of my recent passion for the collected works of
Michel Houellebecq and next week I intend to address the purchase of craft
ales, with a personal take on which breweries and shops I advise you to
investigate, but this week we’re going to have a look at some music.
As
I’ve already alluded to, I’m a sucker for completism; if there’s a chance I can
fill those frustratingly empty corners of my collection by blitz buying the
less trodden byways of an artist’s oeuvre, I’ll seize it and worry about cost
implications later. You’ll be aware of my deep and abiding love for Trembling
Bells and the succession projects who have grabbed my undivided attention and
unconditional love since the tragic split in September 2018: Alex Rex, Youth of
America, Lavinia Blackwall and Stilton, well as ephemeral projects like Three
Queens in Mourning. This last lot is as good as example as any of Alex
Neilson’s mercurial take on the role of the Hardest Working Man in Showbiz, or
Govan’s version of it anyway. The drummer teamed up with Alasdair Roberts and
Jill Lorean to do a short tour in support of the publication of Will Oldham’s book of lyrics, covering their
favourite Bonnie Prince Billy numbers; it may, sometime, come out as a record
and if it does, I’ll buy it. The problem is Alex Neilson has done hundreds of
these releases and while it’s fairly easy to keep tabs on new releases, the
hard part is going back in time to plug gaps I may not even have known about.
Another
problem with Alex Neilson is that he is able to persuade me to spend my money
on the more recherche elements of his practice, not even by emotionally
blackmailing me, but by simply pointing out what he’s got available. He’d been
digging around his flat when he unearthed spare copies of releases by Directing
Hand, Kelley & Neilson, as well as Edwards, Mikami & Neilson. Soon as
he messaged me, I hit PayPal for these and an Alex Rex t-shirt (unworn
as yet); I’ll do so again when he digs out further promised goodies in the
shape of another Directing Hand album and a Tight Meat promo, the noisy project
he formed with author David Keenan when both were staffers at the late,
lamented Volcanic Tongue, though it appears the Goathland CD from
the very first iteration of Trembling Bells, limited to a run of 50, has long
gone. I’d donate blood, platelets and any amount of plasma for that one.
Of
the 3 discs I’ve bought so far, the one with trumpeter Greg Kelley (Passport
to Sartori) is one he claimed I’d never listen to more than twice. He’s
wrong; I’ve played through the untitled, ranting maelstrom that sounds like a
herd of elephants falling down the side of a mountain three times now. I
absolute love it, especially the opening track on side one and the middle one
on side two; no names, no pack drill. It’s the most extreme parts of Don Cherry
meeting with Buddy Rich. Free improvisation turned up to 11. It’s great and
it’s terrible in the sense of being more than a wee bit frightening.
Unbelievably Alex hasn’t listened to it in a decade, though he claims to be
proud of the Edwards, Mikami & Neilson Live at Café Oto set. I must hold my hands up here and say I’ve not
bonded with this one yet, though I will return to it soon. First impressions
suggest it’s very restrained, with what seems to me to be formal song
structures and set lyrics, taking it away from the kind of unfettered free jazz
caterwauling I like best of all.
Unfortunately,
our cat Kraken has more sober musical tastes
than I have. Within about 30 seconds of the start of Red Munrow, the
opening track on Directing Hand’s Songs from the Red House album, he was
off his cushion and scratting at the front door to be out. I did him this
favour and he didn’t come back in again for at least an hour, which coincided
with Laura coming back from the shops, as I’d put the album on while she was
out, knowing full well she’d hate it.
If
you’re not familiar with Directing Hand’s work, they combine free improvisation
drumming and wordless vocals, with chilling versions of traditional folk songs;
for instance, the closing track on side 1 here is the most daemonic
interpretation of My Lagan Love imaginable; not even the Shankill
Butchers made the blood run as cold and so much in spate as this. The original
numbers feature Banshee wailing and tribal percussion, to create unsettling
slabs of primal noise. Getting to the point, at last, the performers who make
up Directing Hand were Alex Neilson (the drummer) and Lavinia Blackwall (the
voice). This record, which preceded the jaw dropping, pastoral beauty of
Trembling Bells’s debut Carbeth, seems not just from a different decade,
but from a different universe to the work the two of them are doing now.
Since
Trembling Bells split, Alex has gone deeper and darker to the underworld in his
solo albums Otterburn and Andromeda, while Lavinia, freed from
the constraints of phrasing words she did not write, has embraced the chance to
compose and sing her own material. Consequently, she is no longer merely a
vocalist, though one with the most beautiful and versatile of voices, but has bloomed into a singer songwriter with a
rare and boundless talent for producing beautiful songs that, despite her
permanent residence in Glasgow, seem as glorious as they are English. Do not
take this to mean they are merely wistful, dramatic or even tragic, for they
are also joyous, uplifting and as life-affirming as a trip through the meadows
on a Midsummer morning. And doesn’t Muggington Lane End sound idyllic
enough to be on Clay Pipe Records? However, do not be fooled into thinking that
Lavinia’s work is to be pigeonholed like a latter-day Pillows and Prayers pastoral
symphony to red squirrels and water nymphs; this album has muscle and packs a
mighty punch.
While
Stilton are completed by Jim on bass and Seb on drums, with the album augmented
by guest musicians such as the aforementioned Mike And Simon, not to mention
Laura J Martin on flute, there are also stunning moments of solo artistry.
Lavinia used to be a proper rhythm guitarist in Trembling Bells, but seemed to
abandon this instrument when Alasdair C Mitchell appeared on the scene, in
favour of keyboards. The album sleeve says she plays guitar, but also keyboards
and it is in front of a piano that Lavinia becomes a transcendental performer;
the stark and baroque Hold on to Your Love and life-affirming Keep Warm
are the most touching and intimate moments of the aural hug that is Mugginton
Lane End, though it continues to baffle me why the story of Watson, a
live highlight, hasn’t made the cut.
Having
journeyed to Glasgow on 1st February to see Lavinia and Stilton
support Alex at the celebration for the release of Andromeda, Laura and
I had already pencilled in another trip on 1st May for Lavinia’s
album release at The Glad Café on the south side. Of course, the current
insanity put paid to that, so we must wait until the world is safe again.
However, I am reassured that Mugginton Lane End is getting the attention
it deserves in these crazy times, as every review I’ve read has been somewhere
between effusive and gushing in its praise. For the avoidance of doubt, this is
another one of those pieces praising Lavinia to the skies. Buy this album and
put a little optimism in your heart.
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