"Ghost Written Confessions" is a third album of songs from Simon Bristoll and his musical chums. Since 2005's "Mindfilming" CAPTAIN WILBERFORCE have attracted enthusiastic reviews and the songs have got stronger with each release. Production values this time, with David Lawrie also doing the engineering and mixing, are very rich. Arrangements are clever and subtle (Rob Paul Chapman doing some brass, David Lawrie strings). There are snap-to-attention moments in every track and plenty of very good tunes.
As usual, of course, an obvious lack of fit with corporate-imagined norms renders the whole effort invisible to a wider world. Appreciative listeners will need to discover this authentic and original music one at a time.
Looking back over the positive reactions to the first two albums it's obvious that CAPTAIN WILBERFORCE is built on very good songs. Dozens of singer-songwriter comparisons have been evoked in the literature but with "Ghost Written Confessions" we really don't need them. This collection shines with and stands on it's own merit. It's not a "version" of anything or of anyone else.
The primary elements are clear stories, copper-bottomed tunes and eyes-narrowed, teeth-clenched emotional commitment. Fresh settings are constructed to suit each song, with a bold variation of instrumentation and very deft use of backing vocals. "Imaginary Friend" opens with wind noise and plucked cello, sounding a little Saharan. But we move on to a choirboy lament and medieval shaped guitar figure. Other voices sneak in and the tune soars into a lament with violin and develops, at half way through, into something altogether more bitter, before soothing into the coda. And, then, by gum, the next intro is some glitchy percussion and electronica and a wallop from a killer bass line that could roll on forever. The song is "Get Hurt" and it's not about romantic fun at all. She told him "you're not the sharpest knife in the cutlery of life": he didn't see the funny side.
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And so it goes. Each song makes a new announcement - very quickly and distinctively - and we immediately want to listen with fresh ears. Special ingredients are used sparingly to keep them special.
My personal favourites save their joy for the last two tracks. "This Little Miracle" spills joy and tears and tenderness in a glistening snowfall of 6/8 (every album should do 6/8 once). It evokes the fear of hope and (maybe) the delivery of a long sought baby. Exquisite. The opening line of the next song ("She's My Kryptonite") yells "You Stupid Bastard!" after some fabulously chunky chord changes. I'll buy that. "Don't stop now, just when we're having a good time, when we're having fun ..." sings the closing chorus. It's just another of those sweet touches that makes the whole album such a delight.
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