It’s perhaps not entirely surprising that Junkboy’s creative pinnacle bypassed me first time around: to begin with, anything released post-millennium has had the challenge of competing with quite literally tens of thousands of releases, and even those which achieve critical acclaim in certain quarters – especially the wider-read press – are quite unlikely to reach my ears.
Junkboy’s ‘Sovereign Sky’ was intended as a loving – and perhaps vaguely obsessive – homage to ultra-obscure private-press cuts from the late 60s, the majority of which have sunk without trace but a number of which are the subjects of rabid fandom and phenomenal prices on the second-hand market on account of their cult status. And so it was that ‘Sovereign Sky’ was released on vinyl in 2014 but was hampered by distribution problems. And so, here we are, 6 years on, with a CD reissue with the aspiration of finally connecting the album with the audience it should have always had.
As you’d expect, vintage vibes abound, with sunny sixties folksy melodies and layers of harmony brim over in soft, melodics tunes occasionally draped with strings as the brothers, Mik and Rich Hanscomb spin reflections on passing seasons and the like with an air of wistful melancholy, not so much the sound of mummer, but the recollections of all of the summers past.
The songs are light and lilting, and while they are predominantly 60s psyche/folk flavoured, there are dashes of 90s inside and alternative in the mix too: I’m reminded of the short-lived 8 Storey Window, produced by House of Love’s Terry Bickers (another band who failed to reach their deserved audience and continue to languish in wrongful obscurity, continuing the theme of also-rans here), while ‘Release the Sunshine’ could actually be a Mansun outtake. The loungy prog smooch of ‘Belo Horozonte’, maybe not so much, and this is one of a handful of moments that may have been better left out in order to preserve the album’s cred levels.
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Whether or not it’s a lost classic only time will tell, but its easy melodies are kind on the ear, and emanate a naïve innocence of a time long before which couldn’t be more welcome now.
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