I doubt it’s intentional, but Glaswegian singer/ songwriter PHIL CAMPBELL is not the easiest of people to track down on the net. He has a Myspace but he’s non-existent on Wikipedia and any reviews I did track down lump him in with everyone from Ray Lamontagne (hardly, but you could do a lot worse) through to James Blunt. I’m not even going to try to justify the latter one.
So let’s stick with what we know. Campbell made a couple of acclaimed records with the band White Buffalo and had a contract with EMI at one time. By modern-day standards, he’s pretty prolific. His last three albums ‘Joy’, ‘Daddy’s Table’ and ‘After the Garden’ have all appeared since 2007 and his new one, ‘Saviour’s Song’ finds him back in Glasgow making an album wherein he plays and produces virtually everything and mixes the whole caboodle on a Mac with merely two speakers for company.
If this sounds like a ‘failed would be star goes back to bedroom for solace’ scenario, well that’s rather harsh. ‘Saviour’s Song’ is certainly eclectic, could realistically be accused of sounding intimate on at least a couple of occasions and sometimes seems to simply revel in its’ own weirdness, but it’s anything but lo-fi whimpering and ushers in several moments of abject loveliness along the way too.
One of these is the opening track ‘W.M.B.L’, which apparently stands for ‘We Must Be Lovers’. Its’ first few seconds are low-key and demo-y, but before long it builds into a rollin’, redemptive anthem with hints of Primal Scream and a very impressive Gospel Choir chorus. Campbell’s call for humanity to stick together in the face of “so-called leaders with their hands tied up their backs/ answer to the board, answer to the banks” is sure hard to rail against just now.
Elsewhere, things rock considerably harder. Tracks like ‘Nations & Babes’ and the high-octane boogie of ‘Shooting Baddies’ (a West End Jason & The Scorchers, anyone?) flex their Big Rock riff muscles while Campbell’s heavily accented Scots delivery works brilliantly on the gruff stomp of ‘Boom Town Rats’. However, while these tunes suggest he’s most obviously at home in the Ricky Warwick school of hard knocks and big choruses, the sublime ‘Radio Luxembourg’ applies some glorious balm for the soul with its Crosby Stills & Nash harmonies and dreamy layers of melody.
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It doesn’t always come off so well. Campbell’s drive to remain fresh and diverse sometimes finds him meeting himself on the way back. The bizarre tempo changes on ‘Vodka Milk’ are especially hard to stomach, although I’d also question the wisdom of sequencing two Led Zep-style stompers (‘Black Moth’ and ‘Milton Car Thieves’) one after the other, even if the latter is by some way the better of the two. The closing title track initially sounds like it might be as lovely as ‘Radio Luxembourg’ but can’t resist the temptation to smash some windows on a drunken sonic spree before it winds down. Shame. It could have been the biz otherwise.
Ultimately, ‘Saviour’s Song’ demands you accept it for what it is: a record whose author has basically gone for what moved him at the time and you can feck it if you don’t like it. It can be noisy and irritating, but it can be melodic and magical too. It’s a bit like opening the door to find a guy wearing a balaclava staring at you. He might cosh you and steal your money, but he might just as easily whip it off, give you a hug and make you a cup of tea. Listen to it often enough (it warrants it) and you’ll probably decide the latter option is the more likely of the two.
Phil Campbell on Myspace
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