While you could assert the DIY power of the MySpace generation, you could just as easily argue that it has built up a seemingly unstoppable wave (actually make that a tsunami) of hopeful singer/ songwriters.
However, while we poor critics valiantly attempt to make for the lifeboats, there are a few such dishevelled souls clutching acoustic guitars and five o’clock shadows we should try to shove into the rescue crafts ahead of us. One of these might well be young Paul Jones: an unassuming West Country native with a nice line in homespun, elemental folk-pop who records under the name FADED CIRCUS.
Jones even has a song featuring cold waves and surf imagery (“it was coming like a wave/ carving through my days”) called ‘No Care for Breaks’ but then again he did write around half of the songs while living in rural Cornwall and this sense of windswept isolation seeps into the record’s very soul.
Certainly if you enjoy the fragile introspection of people like Adem, Vini Reilly and Elliott Smith at his most skeletal then you’ll be happy to pull up a chair in this company. The backdrop is primarily Jones’ chiming acoustic plus his whisper of a vocal and the gossamer quality of opening track ‘Bumblebee Lament’ suggests Lemmy is not likely to pop up to add a kazoo solo anytime soon.
Crucially, though, Jones is adventurous enough to add some unlikely textures to his songs himself and this can only add to their endearing qualities. ‘Solace’ has an Asian vibe, with Eastern-style tunings and what could be a harmonium moaning away. Atmospheric outings like ‘A Layman’s Wish’ and ‘Ombudsman’ feature lugubrious drumming from guest Jay Murray and the drone-y organ and naked vocal of the aforementioned ‘No Care For Breaks’ isn’t a million miles from the kind of vulnerable ballad Julian Cope once brought to fruition so beautifully. Hell, ‘The Winner’s Way’ is more or less a pop song. And it’s also quite lovely, I might add.
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Perhaps best of all are the final two tracks. The brittle ‘In the Teeth of Winter’ could almost be a rustic British take on Mark Kozelek’s Californian fatalism while the delightful ‘Glad to Have You Home’ - with its’ melodica, handclaps and warm optimism (“In a sense I lost you, but I’m glad to have you home”) - is the sort of gentle, redemptive love song that can melt the iciest of hearts.
Bearing in mind it’s not listed with Amazon, ‘Faded Circus’ is hardly screaming out an SOS. But it’s still out there, patiently waiting to be rescued amongst the broiling sea of singers and strummers. Offer it a lifeline, a blanket, some hot chocolate and your discerning ears. You’ll not regret your little mercy mission for one second.
Faded Circus online
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