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CD & ALBUM REVIEWS

THESE ARE THE BRUTALLY HONEST THOUGHTS OF THE REVIEWERS, AND MAY NOT REFLECT YOUR OPINIONS.

NO SUGER COATING PROVIDED HERE.

IN LIGHT OF SOME ALBUMS SENT, PLEASE ENSURE THAT THE MUSIC HAS NO EFFECTS, IS LIVE AND/OR PREFERABLY ACOUSTIC.

PLEASE LOOK AT THE HARVEY ANDREWS REVIEW FOR AN EXAMPLE OF WHAT WE PREFER, OR LOOK FOR JOHN WRIGHTSON'S OR JOSHUA BURNELL'S SONGS, TRADITIONAL OR CONTEMPORARY MUSIC ACCEPTED.

ANYTHING NOT THE SORT OF THING AS DESCRIBED WILL NOT BE REVIEWED.

GEARBOX SESSIONS EP : Liza Lo

Confiarme (Live at Gearbox)

"Confiarme" is a French song that carries an intimate and delicate atmosphere. Even if you're not fluent in French and the words seemed meaningless to you, the song's emotional tone still comes through. The singer's voice is gentle but slightly tentative, as if they are searching for the right words or trying to find their way through the song's feelings. The "oohs" and "ahhs" fill in the gaps beautifully, adding a soft, melodic layer that complements the lyrics—though perhaps they emphasize a sense of longing or uncertainty rather than clarity.

I Am He Is (Live at Gearbox)

"I Am He Is" begins with a subdued, almost mumbling vocal delivery, creating an intimate and raw atmosphere right from the start. Accompanying this is a simple two-chord guitar pattern, understated yet steady, providing a gentle foundation. As the song progresses, the singing shifts slightly—deliberately or unintentionally—into a slightly out-of-tune quality, giving it a raw, imperfect charm but also a sense of vulnerability or uncertainty. Overall, this song feels unpolished and unrefined, which might make it less immediately appealing. The combination of the mumbling vocals, minimal guitar, and slightly off-tune singing creates an impression of raw honesty but perhaps also a lack of polish or clarity. It’s a song that might resonate more with those who appreciate unvarnished, authentic moments in music.

What I Used To Do (Live At Gearbox)

"What I Used To Do" is a gentle, introspective song that unfolds softly, almost like a whisper of memory. Its melody is subtle and understated, lacking a clear, driving direction, which gives it a drifting, contemplative feel. The song doesn’t follow a straightforward or predictable path, making it feel more like a reflective stream of thoughts rather than a song you can easily sing along to.

The mood is quiet and somewhat elusive, inviting you to listen closely as it meanders through feelings of nostalgia or regret. Its lack of a prominent chorus or hook adds to its sense of gentle wandering.

Written by Anon

Gearbox Sessions EP – My Thoughts on Liza Lo's EP

Liza Lo is a fast-rising London-based songwriter, who with just a few singles to her name signed to Gearbox Records (Binker Golding & Moses Boyd, Levitation Orchestra, Sarathy Korwar) and has since released a debut album earning early plaudits from the likes of DIY, Notion, and The Line Of Best Fit, as well as clocking over 1M streams.

The EP, which is out 1st August, follows a year of touring — including her own UK headline dates and support tours for Harrison Storm, Vraell, and Steph Strings — and is a fully analog reinterpretation of selected tracks from her album. Whilst her recent record was full of uncanny and intimate guitars, retro pop-inflected synth and bass, and crystalline piano, these intimate one-take recordings - captured direct-to-tape - encapsulate the raw, emotional heart of Liza’s songs as they evolved on the road. They’re poignant, intimate, and incredibly vulnerable.

A Messenger (Live At Gearbox)

A Messenger (Live At Gearbox) - Liza Lo

Imagine a smoky voice softly crooning the gentle song "A Messenger," its tone rich with raw emotion. The singer's voice carries a warm, velvety texture that seems to seep straight into your heart, each note imbued with a sense of longing and vulnerability. You can hear the delicate squeak of fingers gliding over the guitar strings, a tender detail that underscores the song's sincerity.

Birdsong (Live At Gearbox)

"Birdsong" is a beautifully gentle piece that evokes the peacefulness of a sleepy, warm summer morning. The soft, delicate melodies of the violin weave gracefully throughout the song, its gentle phrases caressing the listener with a calming, almost whisper-like quality. Every now and then, the violin complements the subtle backdrop, adding layers of warmth and a touch of elegance that elevates the serenity of the piece.

WHEN I PAINT MY MASTERPIECE : Ada Lea

Everything Under The Sun

More wheedling background noise, perfect for being put on hold when trying to phone a business…

Just Like In The Museum

If the singer could sing in tune, and with clear diction this would have been better. The start had me singing “Ground control to Major Tom” and then the song soon went downhill with no real purpose.

Bob Dylan's 115th Haircut

Hard to understand what she is singing, no recapitulation

Diner

More senseless tuneless noise. ,

There Is Only One Thing On My Mind

There is only one thing on my mind, how much of time that I will never get back listening to this

Dogs Playing In The Backyard

I had to bang out after a short while as the song went nowhere fast.

Down Under The Van Horne Overpass

Can’t say that this song grabbed me. The slurring tuneless voice is not helping.

Want It All

Yet more senseless tuneless noise.

Somebody Is Walking Into The Water

If the singer could sing in tune, this would have been better. Thankfully not saturated in cheesy 1990’s effects. With some work, this song has possibilities.

Written by Anon

When I Paint My Masterpiece – My Thoughts on Ada Lea's Album

With some short samples, we can only partially review parts of the songs. I played ‘Guess the Genre’, I cannot see this music being played live in any venues, as in general, it is not exactly the sot of music you would ever sing along to.

We were sent this YouTube link. Not the sort of song I can see her singing live over here. The album though is really rather disappointing.

No song has much of a story or indeed a flowing melody. It seems as if the thin tuneless voice is throwing everything effect wise to try and improve it.

It sounds as this singer is singing from the throat and could do with a couple of lungs worth of air to push the notes out, and not have the notes withering out of tune, as if she is singing in the shower. In the main, it’s self-indulgent noise.

I’m not sure that this genre of music is suitable for what this website supports – live music, real songwriters and performers.

Death Phase Of 2024

An over long 49 seconds of guitar intro, which is repetitive, and literally in this case, leads nowhere, more like a leaner trying out a guitar in a music shop….

Moon Blossom

A weak sounding, 1.43 mins of out of tune voice, I can’t say that this wailing sound appeals to many. Probably would have ejected the CD by now, but, maybe things will improve…

Baby Blue Frigidaire Mini Fridge

A sound about a fridge, interesting, so I let the 3.40 secs run to give it a fair listening to. The thin reedy voice is still quivering out of tune. Her dictions is not that good, so difficult to hear the words properly. This had a better melody. The ending vocal was a bit painful.

Something In The Wind

Too many effects in this mumbling song. More like background noise than something you would sing along to. I’m not sure the wailing or mumbling is worth listening to.

Midnight Magic

This started off fairly promising, then the vocals started, meaningless mumbling in general, the song not evolving, then the effects are back, as if the song is trying to decide what genre it is. Pretty dull song.

It Isn't Enough

A few seconds is all I lasted, yep, it really isn’t enough.

Snowglobe

Great song title, conjuring up many a story, but instead, we were treated to something we cannot describe.

DOWN MEMORY LANE : Dick Miles

Written by Anon

Down Memory Lane – My Thoughts on Dick Mile's Album

Had a listen to a selection of the CD.

I am not impressed with the musicality of the playing, it's a bit stinted and a little off beat at times.

The voice is ok in its own way without being special.

The arrangements of some of the songs is a bit strange, Sally free and easy, being one.

A bit of banjo and guitar, but not sure if it's multi tracked or others playing with him while recording.

Overall not my cup of tea, shame really you don't hear many concertinas these days.

Track Listing for Down Memory Lane

01 Song Of The Swift

02 Raglan Road

03 Tom Bigbee _ Peeler Creek

04 Trimdon Grange Explosion

05 Davy Davy KnickKnack

06 Sally Free And Easy

07 Kissing In The Dark

08 The Bantry Girls Lament

09 Come All Ye Sons Of Carbery

10 Bonny George Campbell

11 Full Rigged Ship _ New Rigged Ship

12 Loving Hannah

13 John Of Dreams

14 The Wife Of Usher_s Well

15 The Cuckoo

16 William Brown

17 Isle De France

18 The Legacy Jig _ Orange and Blue

19 The Grandmother_s Armchair

20 The Banks Of The Reedy Lagoon

21 The Concertina Reel _ The Primrose Lass

FRIENDS OF MINE : Harvey Andrews

Side One

Friends of Mine

The title track sets the tone perfectly. It’s a wistful, heartfelt reflection on the friendships that shape us, those that last and those that fade into memory. I love how the song captures that bittersweet sense of time passing - there’s warmth in the reminiscence, but also an undercurrent of melancholy. The melody is simple but deeply effective, carrying the weight of nostalgia in every note.

The Mallard

This is storytelling at its finest. The Mallard isn’t just about a train - it’s about an entire era, a world slipping away before our eyes. There’s something almost cinematic in the way Andrews brings it to life; I can hear the rush of steam, feel the weight of history in its verses. It’s a song filled with admiration and loss in equal measure, a tribute to something greater than just the locomotive itself.

Down So Long It Looks Like Up

I couldn’t help but smile at this one. The title alone tells you what you’re in for - a wry, knowing look at life’s ups and downs. Andrews has this wonderful ability to acknowledge hardship without wallowing in it, to find humour even in struggle. It’s a light touch, but one that balances the weightier moments on the album beautifully.

Sweet Little Fat Girl

The title might be a little jarring today, but I get the sense that Andrews’ intent was always affectionate rather than mocking. His songs don’t belittle people; they bring out their humanity, their quirks, their beauty in ways that feel deeply personal. The melody is warm, the lyrics tender, and by the end, it feels like a quiet celebration of individuality.

Headlines

A shift in tone here - this one has a sharper edge. Headlines feels like a moment of social commentary, a reminder that folk music isn’t just about personal stories but about the world around us. There’s an urgency to it, a sense of looking outward rather than inward, and I like how it adds a little weight to the mix.

For My Father

This is one of those songs that stays with me. It’s deeply personal yet universally resonant - a song of love, loss, and quiet tribute. There’s no need for anything extravagant here; the simplicity of the arrangement lets the words do the work, and every line lands with meaning. It’s a song that carries a kind of gentle reverence, one that feels deeply felt and honestly written.

Written by Anon

Friends of Mine – My Thoughts on Harvey Andrews’ Album

There’s something about Friends of Mine that feels special, almost like an old friend itself. It doesn’t demand attention but earns it quietly, with songs that feel deeply personal, as if Harvey Andrews is speaking directly to me. There’s an intimacy to his songwriting that’s hard to find - no grand gestures, no unnecessary flourishes, just beautifully crafted stories and reflections, wrapped in melodies that linger long after the album has ended.

Final Thoughts

Friends of Mine is the kind of album that rewards quiet listening. It doesn’t need to be loud or flashy - it simply tells its stories with honesty, warmth, and a deep understanding of human nature. That’s what I love about Harvey Andrews: he doesn’t just write songs; he shares moments, memories, and emotions in a way that feels effortlessly authentic.

There’s something so comforting about his voice, something reassuring in the way he captures both joy and sorrow without ever straying into sentimentality. Whether it’s the haunting beauty of Requiem, the nostalgia of The Mallard, or the gentle wisdom of Friends of Mine, every song feels like a small gift. This is an album to return to - not just once, but again and again. And each time, I suspect, it will reveal something new.

Side Two

Troubadours

If Friends of Mine is about the people who shape us, Troubadours is about those who tell their stories. I love how this song captures the spirit of the travelling musician, the poets and singers who weave life into song. There’s a sense of movement in the melody, a quiet energy that pays homage to the storytellers of old while placing Andrews firmly among them.

Requiem

For me, Requiem is the emotional core of the album. There’s something almost sacred about it - the stillness, the tenderness, the way Andrews’ voice carries such quiet weight. It’s one of those songs that makes me stop whatever I’m doing and just listen. There’s sorrow here, but also peace, as if it understands grief in a way that words alone rarely can. It’s easily one of the most moving songs on the album.

Autumn Song

There’s a wonderful atmosphere to this one. Autumn Song captures that fleeting, golden moment between summer and winter, the way change comes creeping in before we’ve even noticed. I love the imagery here - the leaves turning, the air shifting - everything about it feels like a reflection on the way time moves. There’s a sense of nostalgia, but also acceptance, and that’s what makes it so quietly beautiful.

Focus Hocus Pocus (One Night Stand)

This one shakes things up a bit, injecting a bit of playful energy back into the album. The title alone suggests a certain mischievousness, and the song doesn’t disappoint. Andrews knows how to have fun with his music, and this track proves it - witty, a little tongue-in-cheek, and full of life.

The Otter Song

What a lovely way to end the album. The Otter Song feels like a gentle farewell, full of charm and warmth. It’s one of those songs that reminds me why I love folk music - it doesn’t need to be grand or complicated to be deeply affecting. There’s something effortlessly touching about it, and I find myself smiling as the album draws to a close.

SPIROGYRA : Folk-Prog’s Hidden Gem

Written by Anon

There’s a peculiar magic in albums that feel like they’ve been crafted in a parallel universe. Spirogyra’s Bells, Boots and Shambles (1973) is one such creation - a haunting, fragile masterpiece that teeters on the edge of the folk-prog abyss, threatening to tumble into obscurity but somehow clinging to a strange and enduring beauty.

The Good: A Dark Pastoral Elegy

From the opening notes of “The Furthest Point,” it’s clear that Bells, Boots and Shambles isn’t here to coddle it's listeners.

The track is a sprawling, melancholic journey, with Martin Cockerham’s plaintive vocals painting a picture of longing and despair. Barbara Gaskin’s harmonies float above the arrangements like mist over a moor, adding an otherworldly quality that’s both comforting and unsettling.

“In the Western World” is the album’s magnum opus, an ambitious suite that moves through various moods and textures with a theatrical flair.

It’s a bold piece, full of unexpected shifts and poignant moments. The interplay between Cockerham’s acoustic guitar and Julian Cusack’s violin is particularly striking, creating an atmosphere that feels both intimate and grand. It’s as though the band has invited you to witness a private performance in a crumbling cathedral.

The Quirky: Poetry Meets Mystery

Cockerham’s lyrics on this album are as enigmatic as ever, veering between poetic brilliance and outright obscurity. Lines like “the sky is full of broken glass” (from “Old Boot Wine”) invite interpretation but resist easy answers. It’s as if the band is challenging you to engage with their world on a deeper level, to decipher the coded messages hidden within their songs. Yet, for all it's mystery, there’s a raw emotional core to the album. Tracks like “Parallel Lines Never Separate” and “An Everyday Consumption Song” are steeped in a quiet despair that feels achingly human. They’re not just songs - they’re confessions, whispered in the dark.

The Odd: A Beautiful Fragmentation

If there’s one criticism to be made of Bells, Boots and Shambles, it’s that the album occasionally feels like it’s pulling in too many directions at once. The transitions within “In the Western World,” while ambitious, can feel jarring, as though the band is trying to cram an entire opera into a single track. Similarly, the minimalist arrangements of some songs might leave modern listeners craving a bit more sonic depth. But this fragmentation is also part of the album’s charm. It’s imperfect, yes, but those imperfections make it feel alive. There’s a sense that the band was reaching for something just out of their grasp, and that striving gives the music an emotional weight that polished perfection could never achieve.

My Verdict: A Hidden Treasure

Bells, Boots and Shambles is not an easy album, nor is it one that will appeal to everyone. But for those willing to embrace its quirks and delve into its depths, it offers a listening experience like no other. It’s an album that feels like it was made for rainy afternoons and quiet contemplation, a soundtrack for moments of introspection and melancholy.

Spirogyra may have faded into relative obscurity after this release, but Bells, Boots and Shambles stands as a testament to their artistry. It’s a swansong that refuses to go quietly, lingering in the mind long after the final notes have faded. If you’re a fan of folk-prog - or just curious about what happens when ambition meets vulnerability - this is an album worth discovering.

Spirogyra was a British progressive folk band formed in 1967 in Canterbury. Known for their distinctive blend of poetic lyrics, acoustic instrumentation, and classical influences, they carved a niche within the folk-prog scene. The core members included Martin Cockerham (vocals, guitar), Barbara Gaskin (vocals), Julian Cusack (violin), and Steve Borrill (bass).

Their music was characterised by its haunting melodies, intricate arrangements, and a balance of male and female vocals. Despite limited commercial success, albums like St. Radigunds (1971) and Bells, Boots and Shambles (1973) gained a cult following for their emotional depth and innovative approach. Spirogyra’s work remains a hidden gem for fans of progressive and folk music alike.

JUST ANOTHER DIAMOND DAY : Vashti Bunyan

Written by Anon

Listening to Vashti Bunyan’s Just Another Diamond Day is like stepping into a whimsical painting where every brushstroke is made of mist, wildflowers, and the occasional baaing sheep. It’s an album that feels less like a collection of songs and more like a gentle hug from the English countryside itself.

Released in 1970, long before anyone had coined the term ‘cottagecore,’ Just Another Diamond Day is a love letter to a simpler life - one of horse-drawn wagons, dew-soaked meadows, and a complete absence of Wi-Fi. It’s almost painfully idyllic, but somehow it never tips into twee territory. Instead, it invites you to leave behind the chaos of modern life and revel in a world where the biggest worry might be whether your horse fancies a bit of a nap.

Vashti’s voice is the star here, and what a voice it is. Delicate, unassuming, and as soft as the clouds that surely inspired it, her singing is less a performance and more a conversation. She doesn’t so much demand your attention as quietly request it, like a friend offering you a cup of tea and a biscuit.

The title track, Diamond Day, is a standout, with its lilting melody and lyrics that make you want to quit your job, buy a wagon, and head for the hills. But it’s not all sunshine and frolics. Tracks like Glow Worms and Rose Hip November bring a wistful edge to the pastoral dream, reminding us that even the most picturesque landscapes have their shadows.

The instrumentation, featuring contributions from folk royalty like Dave Swarbrick, is understated yet exquisite. The arrangements are as light and airy as a summer breeze, with flutes, strings, and the occasional plucky banjo weaving together a sonic tapestry that feels timeless.

Now, let’s be honest: this album isn’t for everyone. If your idea of a good time involves headbanging or songs about heartbreak in a nightclub, Just Another Diamond Day might leave you scratching your head. But for those of us who occasionally fantasise about running away to a hobbit hole, it’s pure bliss.

Of course, the humour lies in its earnestness. Who among us hasn’t wanted to be as carefree as Vashti seems here, singing about the joys of milk churns and willow trees? And yet, there’s something deeply subversive about how unapologetically gentle this album is. In a world that prizes big, bold statements, Just Another Diamond Day whispers, “Let’s just be quiet for a while, shall we?”

In the end, the album’s charm lies in its ability to transport you. It’s not just music; it’s a holiday for your soul. So, pop it on, pour yourself a cup of something warm, and let Vashti Bunyan remind you that sometimes, the best adventures are the ones where you never leave the garden.

Vashti Bunyan (born 19 March 1945, Newcastle upon Tyne) is a British folk singer-songwriter celebrated for her ethereal voice and pastoral themes. Initially discovered by Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, she released the single Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind in 1965, but her early pop career failed to take off.

Disillusioned with the music industry, Vashti embraced a nomadic lifestyle, travelling across Britain by horse-drawn wagon, a journey that inspired her 1970 debut album, Just Another Diamond Day. Produced by Joe Boyd and featuring contributions from folk luminaries, the album was a commercial failure at the time but later gained cult status as a lost classic of British folk.

After retiring from music for over three decades, Vashti was rediscovered in the early 2000s and released two acclaimed albums, Lookaftering (2005) and Heartleap (2014). Her work has influenced a new generation of artists, cementing her legacy as a unique and enduring voice in folk music.

FOXWARREN : Landon Johnson

Written by Anon

I must confess, when I was first asked to listen to Lullahush, - that ever-so-serious purveyor of ‘sonic landscapes’ - and learned there was an album called Ithaca, I rather hoped it might be a bold musical odyssey.

Please click the album cover to hear the album.

Perhaps something Homeric in scale, a stirring homage to Irish folk traditions that would honour their timeless beauty. How naïve of me. Instead, what we have here is less an epic voyage and more a disastrous holiday package - one where the ancient, soulful melodies of Irish folk are unceremoniously shoved into a suitcase alongside vacuous electronic tinkering.

It’s like someone decided the haunting purity of our cultural heritage wasn’t quite hip enough and thought, “I know! Let’s smother it in synthetic fluff and call it innovation.”

From the very first track, An Droighneán Donn, I braced myself for the worst - and Lullahush, bless him, did not disappoint. What was once a plaintive, centuries-old lament is here reimagined as a sort of ethereal mess, drenched in so much ambient noise that the original melody can only be glimpsed in brief, ghostly gasps - like a drowning man bobbing up for air. The electronic production looms over the song like a thundercloud, oppressive and gratuitous, as if the delicate cadences of Irish folk are too fragile to be left standing without the crutch of a synthesiser.

And then there’s Maggie na bhFlaitheas. Ah, yes - this charming little assault on the senses, masquerading as a tribute to the traditional reel Over The Moore To Maggie. In its original form, the tune is a lively, foot-tapping delight; here, it’s been dismembered and stitched back together with all the grace of Frankenstein’s monster. Lullahush, in his infinite wisdom, has stretched and warped the melody, draping it in such an ocean of reverb that it sounds as though poor Maggie has wandered not ‘over the moor’ but straight into a malfunctioning dishwasher. What was once a spirited jig is now a sonic dirge - an electronic fogbank where the pulse of the original is barely detectable.

By the time I reached Jimmy an Chladaigh, I half-expected Lullahush to leap out of my speakers and personally apologise for this musical vandalism. The track begins with a tantalising hint of something authentic - a few mournful strains of traditional instrumentation - but, like everything else on this album, it’s soon drowned in a sea of glitchy, meaningless noises. It’s the aural equivalent of ordering a fine Irish stew and being served a lukewarm bowl of quinoa.

The whole album is an exercise in what I like to call sonic gentrification - taking something earthy, raw, and brimming with cultural memory, then sanding it down and slathering it with sleek, soulless effects to make it palatable for the artisanal-latte crowd.

Nowhere is this more offensively clear than in Raglan Road. Patrick Kavanagh’s poem - already set to music in one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful ways imaginable - is here reduced to a wispy, saccharine shadow of itself. The emotional heft of the lyrics is entirely lost beneath a wash of dreamy electronica, as though Lullahush fears the words might be too moving if left to speak for themselves. I suppose we mustn’t have the listener feeling too much, must we?

To hear Lullahush tell it, this album is a ‘conversation between past and present.’ If that’s the case, the conversation is a one-sided shouting match where the past is rudely interrupted at every turn. Instead of engaging with the raw emotional honesty of Irish folk, Ithaca buries it under layers of production so vapid you could skate on it.

It’s as if Lullahush took these beautiful, weathered songs - songs that have endured centuries, I might add - and decided they needed a good hosing-down with an Instagram-friendly aesthetic.

Now, I suppose some might call this sort of thing ‘pushing boundaries.’ How terribly daring, they’ll say, to mix the organic with the artificial.

Personally, I call it musical vandalism. It’s like spray-painting a Renaissance masterpiece and patting yourself on the back for being edgy. There’s an arrogance here - a sense that Irish folk, in all its plain-spoken power, is somehow insufficient without the intervention of a laptop-wielding auteur.

And yet, for all its pretensions, Ithaca ultimately feels as hollow as a drum. It’s an album that takes the deep, aching soul of Irish music and dilutes it until it resembles nothing more than sonic wallpaper - pleasant enough if you’re sipping oat milk under exposed lightbulbs but utterly devoid of the raw humanity that makes these songs matter.

Lullahush may think he’s weaving a grand tapestry of past and future, but in truth, he’s done little more than slap a filter over tradition and call it art.

In the end, I can only offer my condolences to the poor, disrespected folk tunes buried beneath this mess. They deserved better.

Folk music, like fine whiskey, needs no synthetic sweetener - drown it in electronic fizz, and all you’ve got is dishwater with delusions of grandeur.

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