It never ceases the amaze this writer that the (actually pretty healthy) roots-rock scene in the UK is only championed by a small, discerning bunch of media folk. If the likes of Gary Hall, Michael Weston King and Clive Gregson had hailed from the US midwest rather than the UK north-west, it's hard to imagine they wouldn't have given the likes of Jay Farrar and Mark Eitzel a run for their money along the way.
And if there's any justice, another Lancashire-based singer/ songwriter deserves to be heard by a far wider public if this record is anything to go by. He's called IAN BAILEY, and his album is titled, simply "Bailey." It's the first release on the new Northern Sun Recordings label, oozes class and first-rate songwriting skills and ideally should be the springboard to great things in the future.
Produced with skill and aplomb by Bailey and Gary Hall, the majority of the album is a relatively lush and pastoral affair, exemplified by the likes of the excellent opener "Reach Out For Today" ( where Ian's languid ache of a voice is couched by Cornershop/ Bert Jansch collaborator Richard Curran's typically sympathetic strings) and well-crafted tunes such as the lilting "Autumn Leaves" and the mellifluous ballad "More Than I."
Ian's love of acoustic folk is also to the fore on sparser, emotive tracks like "Behind Disguise" and "Unsteady Beat". The sadness of a relationship slowly dying is encapsulated beautifully on the former (sample lyric: "Now the flames that once burned brightly have been extinguished"), while Bailey is again joined by Curran's strategic strings on the latter. Names like Nick Drake are often used erroneously as touchstones for anyone wielding softly-strummed acoustic guitars these days, but the arrangements on "Bailey" do occasionally recall Drake's best work. "Unsteady Beat" isn't a million miles from the gentle soundscapes of "Five Leaves Left" and the jazzy sax on "These Are Days" wouldn't be out of place on "Bryter Layter." At a slight tangent, one of the album's highest peaks, "Aching And Waiting" possesses an almost Madrigal-style quality that Sandy Denny's Fotheringay would certainly have countenanced.
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So it's undeniable that "Bailey" taps into the classic British acoustic tradition, but elsewhere it has a few surprises up its' sleeve. Tracks like the all-too brief "Survive" and "These Are Days" employ low-key loops and beats and suggest the likes of Massive Attack and Portishead may well also feature in Ian's CD cabinet, while "Better Man" is a truly immediate, Byrds-y groover with chiming guitars and crystalline harmonies. It would do well as a single, given the opportunity.
The risk-taking doesn't end there, either. The whiplash, Who-style riffing ("Live At Leeds" vintage) of "Suicide Bullet Train" is a hammer to the temples in the wake of "Behind Disguise"s subtlety, but is actually pretty decent once you've got over the shock. It recalls the way American Music Club like to shake their albums up with the likes of "Bad Liquor" and "Crabwalk".
Less successful is the enigmatic "Wounds Of Craving", where moody electronica spars with E-bow and Spanish-style acoustic and a young child reads an intriguing poem in the background. It's OK and certainly a departure, but for me the weakest track on display. No such problems with the closing "Price To Pay", though: it's a stark, fragile postcript with Ian alone at the organ, singing of life's trials and tribulations ("Time and time again when I'm trying to begin, I hit a wall" - absolutely) in a resigned manner we can all relate to only too well. It's gorgeously frail and the perfect way to say goodbye after a memorably affecting hour or so.
"Bailey", then, is an assured, accomplished and quietly confident effort from a talented performer who, by rights, we should be hearing a lot more from. Let's hope that wish becomes reality.
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