We’ve had the snowdrops, the crocuses and the daffodils. Now the daisies and the dandelions are popping up in our lawns. And the beds in the sound gardens are blooming, too. No less than eight tracks from my Spotify Release Radar were added to my online library this week. So I think it’s time for another playlist.
First up, we have Grace Petrie’s social commentary, King and Country, from her new album, Build Something Better. We met Grace in An Office in Hackney back in October 2021, where I described her as a singer-songwriter with deep folk roots, and highlighted her soapbox lyrics. The new album, released on 8th March this year, continues in that vein. Over a solo acoustic guitar, the first words we hear are:
You are listening to Today on Radio 4
This is the third world war
She seems to be saying, “things can’t get any worse”, although we must accept a big pinch of lyricist’s licence in those opening lines. The song goes on to throw the spotlight on extreme wealth inequality, political polarisation, and climate change. There is a trace of bitterness in the words; if there is hope in the Petrie heart, it isn’t heard here.
Next, we find ourselves among tall Towers, courtesy of the Clarinet Factory. They, too, are old friends, gracing these pages in October 2017 with a tune called Bolek i Lolek. This small, 4-part Factory manufactures sounds very reminiscent of Hidden Orchestra‘s work – rippling clarinets and clattering drums – giving me another excuse to use the ‘orchestral beats’ tag.
Track 3 re-introduces us to Monsieur MÂLÂ, the Storyteller, who (it turns out) is a machine. In this case, it’s a 5-piece, jazz/world music production apparatus that we discovered (here) at the end of 2022.
I was built to find balance between my head and my heart.
…
I am one body, with many voices.
Merci, Monsieur. All your voices sound sweet to me, and I am fascinated by the stories you tell.
There is one more familiar artist in this playlist: Fairport Convention. They have been asking Who Knows Where the Time Goes? since 1969 when they released their Unhalfbricking album. It is, of course, a Sandy Denny composition and, if she had still been with us in 2023, I’m sure she would have sung it for the band on their U.K. tour. The version featured here is from a live album recorded on that tour and released on 15th March 2024. It’s one of the most beautiful folk songs of all time, and the band has given us perhaps the best rendition since Sandy herself last sang it not long before she died in 1978.
The last four tracks in my playlist are all from artists new to me. They take us from easy jazz to meandering ambient. The first is by a quartet led by the Norwegian pianist Kjetil Mulelid. According to Wikipedia:
“Mulelid is inspired by anything from hymns to free jazz, and the music is energetic, rhythmically intricate, harmoniously rich, intimate and with appealing melodies.”
In this case, we might add ‘heroic’ to the adjectival list, taking our cue from the track title, Heroes.
After the exertions of our noble capeman deeds, it’s time for a little Meditation in the company of Arild Andersen, Daniel Sommer and Rob Luft. Andersen is a Norwegian bassist, Sommer is a drummer based in Copenhagen, and Luft is a guitarist from London. Together, they have created a soundtrack to the yoga and Tai Chi sessions that inject some “me time” into our hectic modern lives.
This takes us into a peaceful acoustic guitar introduction to What I Cant Say by Luca Falomi, Max Trabucco, Alessandro Turchet and Daniele di Bonaventura. Gradually, bass, drums and electric guitar lines creep in, filling out the sparse opening strains to build a sumptuous cushion on which to lay our bodies, now completely refreshed.
Finally, we have a Willow painted in sound by Saltbreaker, a duo whose music “is grounded and natural, hinting at a fusion of folk, post rock and New Age music”. The pastel backdrop is provided by electronic vibes, while saxophone brushstrokes apply the detail of the tree’s branches and leaves. A canvas of summer sleepy sounds.
I hope you will take this opportunity to break free from the chains that bind us to the treadmill of everyday life, at least for the next 40 minutes or so. But don’t get too comfortable – those last four tracks may lead you into the land of dreams and nightmares, where you might find yourself as helpless as a prisoner shackled to a ball and chain.
Crotchety Man 