Barry Adamson’s career has been a remarkable one, to say the least, from starting out in the late 70s with Magazine, and featuring with The Buzzcocks, Visage, and for a time being one of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds. But all of his inclusions in manifold bands seem to place his solo work in the shade: it does often seem that he’s a bandmember and producer who sometimes puts out an album in his spare time, and while this may be true to an extent, it does his solo work a major disservice.
He’s recently had a book published, and this new album isn’t a direct tie-in, but, as the blurb attests, ‘The album extends the concept, as Adamson journeys through rambunctious odes, mixing elements of soul, R&B, hip hop and funk with AI and Manhattan disco. Adamson examines various lives cut short, explores notions of race, and invites us to reflect on how much society has really changed since the original Civil Rights movement of the mid 20th-century, all with a deft, louche touch and gleeful wordplay and associations, both aural and visual.’
“It’s not gospel, it’s not soul, it’s not blues and it ain’t rock n’ roll. It’s all of ’em – and with good reason.” says Barry Adamson. It’s a fair summary. Much of ‘Cut to Black’ has quite a vintage feel , and showcases Adamson’s versatility as he effortlessly switches between genres and styles and sound entirely comfortable with whatever he turns his hand to.
‘Lady, you shot me’, Adamson croons against a surging brass backing on the big soul blast of ‘The Last Words of Sam Cooke’. It’s laced with irony, but at the same time, it’s remarkably straight, and feels somehow uncommonly ‘real’. Perhaps it’s as much a reflection on just how fake, how unreal our world has become as anything, but Adamson achieves a unique sense of living nostalgia.
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‘Demon Lover’ has something of a sleazy grind to it, while the title track swerves towards a more spoken-word narrative style, laced with some bold and theatrical strings which add real drama, and there’s a low-down and slow authenticity to the dramatic build of ‘These Would be Blues’, which has a certain Toim Waits vibe about it, and ‘Please Don’t Call on Me’ is traditional blues with a contemporary twist in the form of some semi-industrial percussion. The six-minute closer, ‘Waiting for the End of Time’ is a brooding piano-led masterpiece, bursting with drama and emotive echoes which reverberate after silence descends.
‘Cut To Black’ reaffirms what we’ve long known about Adamson – that he’s a versatile composer and an outstanding songwriter who has a knack for weaving in subtle details which add unique dimensions to established forms.
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