Extreme Listening Mode!

I have a policy about support bands. I don’t see them. Yeah, yeah, I know. I could be missing the next big thing, I’m denying myself a glimpse into the formative years of potentially great artists, I’m not helping these bands develop to the next level. To which I generally respond with an unreserved and deeply-felt shrug. Fuck it. I don’t care. If they are any good, I’ll see them later. The type of bands I go to see are usually either just starting out themselves or on their initial upswing. So if the headliners are just finding their sound and stage presence, how embryonic are a band six months behind even that? We’re talking sketches, at best. When I go to see an established band and one of those types of bands are supporting them, I usually ignore it because I know I’ll go and see them in a tiny, grubby little venue later.

Why am I telling you this? Because there is one venue I usually waive my ‘no support’ rule – I’m a very female male, I reserve the right to be unnecessarily difficult – and that’s Glasgow’s King Tut’s. Why? Well, there is, more often than not, a good reason to. The bands who play there generally bring someone a bit different. They don’t have the fear that they are going to be upstaged by their support, they haven’t earned their ‘spot’ yet and don’t live in a perpetual mental terror that some upstart will come and remove them from it. Which is – long story long – how I discovered this band.

I was attending a gig by up and coming alt.country star Ryan Bingham which, in all honesty, left me cold . He’s got everything – looks, THE look, guitars, pedal steel, hat – but no soul. There is nothing to break your heart, or make you swig a beer to, and anything in any way derivative of country music HAS to do that. Otherwise, what’s the point? And what brought it sharply into focus was his support act. These chaps. I came away quite impressed, but you know, it’s a gig, it’s a one-shot deal. Anyone can have a good night. They can catch you three beers into your buzz in a great mood. The Proof/pudding interface comes when they get it down on disc. What is the album like?

Simply put, it’s as soaring and gutwrenching and uplifting and downbeat as all great alt.country records should be. Anyone who has ever found a place in their heart for Wilco, Son Volt, early-REM, the Long Ryders or Ryan Adams will find much to admire here.It’s obviously made by a gang of great musicians, but I’m not going overboard on that because a) all country music usually is and b) I’m a hoary old punk at heart. But the difference is in the playing – the verve, the need, the spunk (American definition.) This album doesn’t simply seek to grab your attention, it plonks itself down in your living room, lights a Marlboro, shoots a whiskey and starts playing to you, all the time looking into your eyes and defying you not to give a fuck. And you will. You’ll be seduced by the widescreen glory of ‘St. Judes Parade’, and as importantly, you’ll be singing it by the last chorus. ‘Breakdown’ is a great country-pop song (imagine if Jeff Tweedy had ever replaced Michael Stipe in R.E.M.) ’40 Days of Flood’ is a slice of gritty Americana as twisted and interesting as anything any British alt.country band has ever produced.

The album sounds self-produced and, inevitably, lacks polish. But studio sparkle, in this more than any genre shouldn’t deflect or disguise the quality on show. This is a genuine statement in a world awash in artifice and anonymity. It should be applauded.

Filed under: Album Review, New Albums Tagged: | alt.country, Country music, Glasgow, God-Fearing Athiests, king Tuts, Long Ryders, Ryan Adams, Scotland, Son Volt, support bands, Wilco