Rixile Elixir – John Kline (reviewed by Dave Franklin)

Music can be many things. On the one hand, at its most basic, it is mere entertainment. Nothing wrong with that; we all like to be entertained. On the other, it can be high-brow and ornate, full of meaning and depth. Again, all good. But wouldn’t it be great if there was an easy middle ground between the two? Something that had all the accessibility of the former and the meaningfulness of the latter? Well, there is, and John Kline is the man behind it.

Rixile Elixir perfectly fits his ideology, one that, as his website tells us, was put best by William Congreve over 300 hundred years ago. “Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. To soften rocks or bend the knotted oak.” That is to say that the tones and textures, rhythms and rhymes found in music can calm us, act as an antidote to our more destructive urges, it can put a spell on us, beguile us, and once it has, can lead us to a less volatile place, allow us to make better choices. It has always been the philosophy at the heart of John Kline’s music-making and is, once again, the basis of Rixile Elixir. 

If an Elixir is a cure-all, able to make life-changing improvements, Rixile means Sunrise Good Morning in the Xitsonga language, giving the album the label of “a prescription for a sunny day,” perhaps. A palindromic pun with a purpose. (I now recall the humour and wordplay in the song titles of the last album I reviewed of his, Art and Science.)

And the music meets that challenge perfectly. A series of instrumental pieces that wander between the poised rock of opener Neurogenesis (the title hints that the music is headed for the heart and soul and the mind, too) and the more spacious and chilled Made It Home, which follows.

Between these two points, John takes in all manner of cool sounds and styles. The title track is a busy and beguiling rock piece, slightly eighties infused but certainly taking that vibe into the future; Friday Song is poppy, cascading and instantly accessible; Water Song is full of movement and muscle, and the album ends with Illusion (Life’s Dance) which reminds me of the blend of eastern exotica and western folk traditions that Davey Graham first presented to the world in the ’60s.

A fantastic album, a purposeful album, an album built on both groove and grace. Music to soothe the savage breast indeed!