117 f


percussion, it’s true, and a great deal of Wait- sian imagery in the demimonde lyrics (oceans, carousels, sailors’ graves), but that’s about as far as it goes. A better comparison might be the Cincinnati husband-and-wife duo Over The Rhine, whose sound came to mind more than once for me.


The standout track is The Poison Sits, which relies simply on acoustic guitar and Packer’s vocals. There’s an enjoyable hint of late night cabaret in the way this song’s per- formed, and none of the slightly overcooked elements which sometimes get in the way elsewhere. It also provides my favourite little touch of the whole album, when a perfectly- timed line of background vocals subtly swells its arrangement halfway through. It’s one of those tiny, perfect moments.


mapolainesgreatdecline.com Paul Slade


TAL NATIONAL Tantabara Fat Cat FATCD149


In the 1980s, I used to make pilgrimages to West Africa and return with piles of cas- settes bought in street mar- kets – everything from the latest hits by big local stars like Youssou N’Dour to intriguing-looking impulse buys, mostly bootlegs, by


wild bands like National Badema, Mori Djeli De Kankan and Super Djata, the latter of whom would eventually show up in London and fry us with blindingly exciting gigs. At the same time we were discovering the rawer roots of Congolese music – Zaiko Langa Langa, Bavon Marie Marie and so forth – and pretty much overnight, most Western rock bands sounded deadly dull by comparison with their leaden, four-square drumming and risible lead guitar posturing. I never really recovered.


But inevitably, Western interest and slick Parisian production influence filtered down, and the ubiquitous global culture-flattening of rap and reggae reached into most corners. It seemed likely that all the really raw, wild local stuff was pretty much gone for good.


We reckoned without the Songhai, Fulani, Hausa and Tuareg musicians who have coalesced in dusty Niamey, Niger, in the ranks of Tal National (see fR389). It’s as if those clas- sic big Malian electric bands of yesteryear are reborn with fresh energy.


Stick this new CD – their third – into the


player, crank up the second track Belles Reines, and tell me when you last heard any- thing so exciting on a new release. Whiplash sharp, distorted electric guitars riffing like their lives depend on it, bouncing bass, layers of ferociously hit percussion, propulsive key- boards and manic shouty singing. It takes you by an arm and swings you around its head. There needs to be an adjective for a level that goes above exhilarating like this! And it continues like that. There are marginally slower tracks like Duniya or Trankil where the desire by listeners to engage in injury-threatening idiot-dancing is temporarily replaced by an urgent lope, but then that guitarist cranks up again…


The press release says they self-describe as a ‘rock band’. Don’t be silly. Even the extremes of raw rockabilly sound like wet fart pantywaist ninnies by comparison. Punk? Nah! I’m quite sure the heroic Joe Strummer would be genuflecting to tracks like Akokass.


Probably should come with a health warning. Though being prescribed by the NHS as a cure for indolence and depression might be equally appropriate.


fat-cat.co.uk Ian Anderson


YOU ARE WOLF Keld Firecrest FC001P


“keld. n. 1690s in northern dialect, but frequent in place names, from Old Norse kelda ‘a well, fountain, spring,’ also ‘a deep, still, smooth part of a river’…”


You Are Wolf (aka com- poser and singer Kerry Andrew) first came to our


notice via her 2014 debut album Hawk To The Hunting Gone, which featured the astonish- ing Doves with guest singer Alasdair Roberts. It’s successor, which “explores the theme of freshwater, with traditional and original songs about banshees and water sprites, vengeful rivers and wild swimming”, sees You Are Wolf manifest as a trio with Andrew now joined by percussionist Peter Ashwell and Sam Hall – who contributes a plethora of instruments including cello, bass guitar, elec- tric guitar and trumpet.


The listener’s attention is seized right from the start of The Baffled Knight – in which a babbling brook field recording pre- cedes Andrew’s voice (unaccompanied except for handclaps and finger-clicks) as it intones the opening lines: “Once there was a shep- herd lad/kept sheep on yonder hill-o…” Whether delivering a traditional ballad or one of her own songs, Andrew is a consum- mate storyteller who utilises the dreamy elec- tronics, drones and clattering percussion of these inventive arrangements to enhance rather than to distract from the texts. This being, primarily, a collection of folk songs about rivers, those texts tend toward themes of weeping (As Sylvie Was Walking), drown- ing (Down By The Willow Garden) and super- natural goings-on (Archie Fisher’s Witch Of The Westmerlands). Speaking of the latter, there’s even a chanted Anglo-Saxon invoca- tion/spell in Charm.


Lisa Knapp (a natural ally if ever there was one) cunningly interweaves The High- land Widow’s Lament (familiar from the opening scene of the 1973 film The Wicker Man) into Andrews’ The Weeper, while Drowndown, with it’s dire warnings: “do not go to the water’s edge, the children will drown…” recalls the Spirit of Dark and Lone-


Tal National


ly Water – who terrified the bejesus out of pre-teens in the same year’s British Public Information short film Lonely Water. Scottish poet Robin Robertson makes an effective cameo on Let Them Be Left.


The You Are Wolf trio of Andrew, Ash- well and Hall together with producer MaJiK- er have created a remarkably accomplished work on which the ancient and modern blend seamlessly, and not a note or a word is wast- ed. Come on in – the water’s lovely.


youarewolf.bandcamp.com/album/keld Steve Hunt


MONSIEUR DOUMANI Angathin Monsieur Doumani MD0003


Further proof (as if it were needed) that fun and rebel- lion transcend barriers of language and culture, this third album from the Greek Cypriot trio of Antonis Anto- niou (tzouras), guitarist Angelos Ionas and Demetris Yiasemides (trombone and


flute) aka Monsieur Doumani, finds them once again grabbing Greek Cypriot folk music by the throat, adding politicised lyrics and bashing it all out in a spirit of punk, blues, rock and hip-hop.


The thirteen-track album features mostly original compositions, with a host of guests from both the Greek Cypriot and mainland Greek music scenes adding to the party. As ever, their sound is playful and irreverent yet with lyrics concerned with the currently tur- bulent politics of their home island.


Fallow Fields (which can be found on the


fRoots 68 compilation free with this issue) is a highlight, as is the rockin’ Antics on which guest percussionist Alexandros Gagatsis gives it some extra welly. There’s also an extraordi- nary hidden choral track at the end of the album which features the Russian vocal ensemble Fortis, singing in Greek-Cypriot dialect. Quite a long way musically from the enjoyably high-energy knockabout material to be heard early on.


monsieurdoumani.com Jamie Renton


Photo: Jason Creps


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