It's Monday night in east London and Hoxton Square has been plunged into darkness by a power cut. It's unclear whether the surrounding area is affected but on the square there are windows-a-glowing as hastily lit candles peek through frosted glass. It's the perfect backdrop for tonight's support act Emily Jane White, of whom I know very little about other than Wikipedia's description of her as a 'dark folk singer'.
White's at the end of a three week jaunt plugging sophomore album Victorian America, which I listen to, post-show - it's a strong collection of songs soaked through with melancholy.
She's minus a string section tonight - they're off "getting drunk in Belgium" but it doesn't show - she's a most able musician, switching between guitar and piano with equal ease and confidence. White's unassuming presence belies the complexity, beauty and fullness of her music. "Dark Undercoat" talks of 'wild tigers I have known' and although her voice is somewhat unremarkable at times, she is without a doubt lyrically compelling.
And so come Horse Feathers and an interesting proposition. A band that manages to raise questions in the collective consciousness of reviewers; questions like "do we really need yet more quality alt-folk played by men with beards?" "Are there now too many Midlakes, Fleet Foxes, Ryan Adamses, Neko Cases?" "And what happens now that the banjo and mandolin have mainstream acceptance?"
What's clear at the end of the decade is that alt.folk, alternative country or whatever you want to call it has gone on a long journey from being the vestige of the obsessives (all those moneyed up mid-forties Son Volt and Whiskeytown fans) to a much more democratic and universal place. Remember, Gram Parsons always called it 'cosmic american music', implying the wide and spiritual appeal of the sound.
|
I would go so far as to suggest that the recent mainstream success of Mumford and Sons is the natural result of that journey - when the bastard sons of T Pogues and The Libertines are in Q magazine, it's surely a sign that something has shifted, somewhere.
That's not to say that Horse Feathers don't have something worth listening to. Like most bands who have earnt their chops on the live scene in the US, they come to the UK a tight and fully-formed band. There's ne'ry a note out of place. Kudos to them too for rising to the challenge of a power cut and performing with a marginally reduced roster of instrumentation.
"Cascades" is a honey of a song, carried along by a crying Jim Jamesy vocal from Justin Ringle and some shimmery, delicate strings. 'Delicate' being a word that describes very well the sound of Horse Feathers - songs that would shatter if handled with any less than a light touch.
If anything, the band are yet another illustration of the embarrassment of riches in the modern 'cosmic american music' scene rather than a symbol of the glut - which cannot be far off though. What comes next really needs to shake things up, y'know?
|
