root salad The Rails
The rules say that folk rock’s a dodo as concepts go. The rule breakers explain themselves to Tim Chipping
W
e should’ve seen it coming. What else could follow the rehabilitation of folk in the popular consciousness than its
younger, amplified sister, folk rock? Of course, most of what the media has so far described as folk rock is nothing of the kind. Except one. The Rails seemed to arrive fully formed as the first signing to Island’s revived pink label (once the home of Fotheringay and Fairport Convention). The Strummer snarls of James Walbourne and the bruised sighs of Kami Thompson sit atop adroit guitar growls, knitted with Carthy-brand fiddle. What else would you call it?
“That was the plan immediately,” con- firms Kami, sipping from a bucket of rosé. “We wanted to make a folk rock record from the get go. We were a few wines in and playing guitars in the living room. James comes from a very rock background and I come from a very folk background…”
“Well, I wasn’t Guns N’ Roses!” James interjects. “But electric, loud, yeah… and we sang together very easily. It didn’t take any work.”
Was it that easy?
“I didn’t think it would get this far!” laughs James. “It was our manager Martin who really believed in it and thought it could be on a major.”
“You’d have to be deranged to think you’d get a major label deal these days,” adds Kami. “Especially as we’re over 30!”
The Rails are signed to Ian Brown’s
Mighty Village imprint, who recently pulled Bellowhead into the fold. But are Island Records banking on a countrywide folk rock revival?
“Ian’s a folkie and it was his enthusi- asm that brought us to the label,” says Kami. “I don’t think the rest of them were necessarily excited about having a new folk act. Although they did send us a bot- tle of champagne on our first gig.”
What they will be pleased with is the reception The Rails’ debut album Fair Warning has had in the mainstream press. How does critical acclaim feel?
“We’re absolutely thrilled. I’m really thin-skinned and a bad review sends me underground. But what I’ve seen I’m made up about; we couldn’t have asked for better.”
“It could have gone the other way, especially as every review opens with a comparison to Richard and Linda. They could go on to say, ‘And this is shit com- pared to them.’ So I feel very lucky.”
Being a Thompson (Kami is Richard and Linda’s youngest child) was there an expec-
tation that you’d make music? “No. For a lot of my solo career I felt people were desperately wishing I would go away.”
For most of his adult life,
James Walbourne has been quietly establishing himself as a session guitarist of high renown. Most recently he’s played the tricky bits for The Pretenders, Edwyn Collins and The Pogues. Does he also hail from a musical dynasty?
“No, but my dad’s
obsessed with music. Obsessed. From when I was five, about three times a week he’d drag me out to gigs. I saw Sinatra, John Lee Hooker, everyone really. He was very encourag- ing. He got me lessons and encouraged me to play. I was making money when I was six- teen, playing in a three-piece blues band around dodgy pubs in Essex.”
M
uch has been made of the fact that The Rails took a time- honoured trip to the
library at Cecil Sharp House before making Fair Warning.“That’s been slightly overblown,” admits Kami, “but we did go. We joined EFDSS and everything. Although our membership has since lapsed.”
“It was just overwhelming for me,” James recalls. “So many books, so many murder ballads. Although most of the songs on the album are origi- nals. We went there for inspi- ration more than to just find old songs,” explains Kami. “This sounds so wanky but we wanted to find the thread… what it is that made those songs so different to the way you’d write now.”
Adding to the trad is Eliza Carthy, whose fiddle is almost the third voice on this record. “I love her and she’s the dirti- est, funniest bird I know,” says Kami. “That’s the second reason she’s on the record. The first reason is she’s the best. She plays like she moves on stage; you can almost hear her dancing.”
Alongside a sorrowful Bonnie Portmore
and a wiry William Taylor are several of The Rails’ own misery-baked songs. Is writing together the true test of a marriage? “We write apart and come together towards the end. But that always works.
17 f
There’s never a row. It’s the only area of our life where we don’t!”
The suit-wearing section of the music industry has shown interest in folk before, only to drop it when the public didn’t go Child ballad bonkers. But Kami thinks it might not be such a mad gamble this time.
“I’m sure they have expectations which might not be applicable to what we do. But I’m really happy with what we’ve sold. And it’s probably on a par with peo- ple they’ve spent a lot more money on and who are 22 and good-looking. So I almost feel like it’s a good time for a band like us to be signed to a major. I think we’ve got a lot to prove but I think we can prove it.”
is a start.
www.therailsofficial.com
Knowing how to end on a sound bite F
Photo: Paul Kelly
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