Lancashire singer/ songwriter IAN BAILEY was responsible for a quiet gem of a debut with his neo-eponymous 'Bailey' in 2005. Thoughtful, often pastoral, but also capable of moments of genuinely hard rocking, it was one of those rare, genre-straddling affairs which - although broadly roots-based - put emotional performances and beautifully-realised songs ahead of stylistic concerns and remains a delight to behold as a result.
Sensibly, Ian has retained most of the same crew for his sophomore release, 'Stop Me From Falling' too. Another fine songwriter in his own right, Gary Hall once again co-produces and talented colleagues such as multi-instrumentalist Mark Wilkinson and strings maestro Richard Curran pitch in with telling contributions, while new blood comes courtesy of the likes of backing vocalists Linda Campbell and Katherine Daggers. When allied to the depth of Bailey's intensely personal songs, the results are always very good indeed and often thoroughly inspired.
'Stop Me...' opens with one of Bailey's most confident tunes to date in 'One Step Ahead Of The Blues'. Fading in on backwards guitars, it opens out into a Primal Scream-ish groove courtesy of snaky basslines, gently funky drums, delta-fried slide from Wilkinson and gutsy vocals from Bailey. Despite the roll-with-the-punches lyrical content ("it's hard to find the reason/ to justify the need to breathe"), it's a celebratory opening flourish and has a killer middle eight to seal the deal.
'One Step Ahead Of The Blues' isn't the only time the album steps out with a swagger either. The convincing, experience-scarred 'The Big Lie' is more than happy to crank up the amps, while the smouldering, mid-paced 'Walk Away' has one of those melodies that reminds you of something familiar and feels like it's been with you forever with its' big, Spectorian drums and nagging, vibrato guitar parts. Also very much an anthemic contender is 'Satellite': chiming, organ-laced chromatic pop at its' best with a glorious ache of a chorus which could do very well indeed if such things as singles are to be taken into consideration.
Great though these tunes are, however, it's the gentle vulnerability of Bailey's fragile ballads that are the real heart of the album. An early example comes courtesy of 'You Stop Me From Falling', where a deceptively laid-back backdrop and Chris Higgin's sympathetic sax colour a nicely lived-in vocal from Ian, though arguably even better are 'Don't Throw It All Away' and 'Love Song' where the graceful sparseness of Bailey's heartfelt vocals and acoustic guitar and Richard Curran's elegant strings complement each other magically.
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Indeed, you know when an album's hitting home when the smaller details are sounding just right. For example, the lilting, almost Celtic tinges of 'Magical Day' get better and better the more you're exposed to them, while the way Kat Daggers' breathy vocals shadow Bailey on 'The Greatest Pretender' before the man himself then goes on to add a perfectly-formed organ part are among many of the parts which help form a much greater whole.
Wonderfully, Ian holds perhaps the best song he's written to date in reserve for the finale too. With just his own guitar and keyboards to guide him, he signs off with 'Late Night Lament': an unhurried, but unfailingly moving comment on mortality ("will I stand at the pearly gate, to be told I am free?/ or will I travel next to you or all eternity?") which, as graceful existential commentaries go, ranks among the very best this writer has heard.
Like its' gently auspicious predecessor, 'Stop Me From Falling' is the sort of album which will make its' presence felt down the years. Although it's by no means devoid of the occasional rough'n'tumble, it's not the kind of record that will shout its' strengths from the rooftops. Instead, it will coax you in with warmth and versatility and let you realise just how good it is in its' own sweet time. And by then you'll be more than delighted you hung around to fall under its' spell.
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