“I need a cigarette, those fuckers talked over my whole set,” I love this album already and that’s after just the first two lines. There is something in that wonderfully honest couplet that really resonates with the world I work in, that reminds us that away from the big events of the big bucks, throw away industry, the grassroots scene is one where you play a set to a room full of people looking at the phones, for £35 before sleeping on the promoters lumpy sofa. But at least you get to shower in the morning. (I’m also just reading Frank Turner’s tour diary from the early days making that line resonate even more with my current mood.)
And Fade Into The Day then continues to offer up frank (as opposed to Frank) and folky observations and skittering and skewed country views of the world. It is all the more charming for its low key, lo-fi nature, a sound that perfectly matches its lyrical sideswipes and self-deprecating tones. The Bottle’s My Lover, She’s Just My Friend is not only the most brilliant of titles it is also the sound of a long lost country classic that in another time Johnny Cash would have stolen and made a packet with, Tournament Horseshoe is a jaunty musical jig through wonky Appalachian porch music and things step up a bit for Everyday’z 2morrow, a slice of wonderfully lazy, louche yet groovesome indie, cool enough that I will even forget the unacceptable use of the z and the 2 in the title.
Lovely, low key and ludicrously listenable.