Tom Moore & Archie Moss – Spectres
Slow Worm Records – Out Now
Spectre seems a far cry from the fare associated with Archie Moss and Tom Moore’s previous work, whether as the well-regarded trio with Jack Rutter or as session musicians for the likes of Jim Moray’s False Lights, these boys have got around and established a pedigree for reliable fiddle/melodeon interplay. So, is this more of the same, the intricate interplay of their never more organic playing? To answer that needs a jump to their own explanation, citing this as “an aim to help re-define how British instrumental folk music is made”. Brave words, and actually balanced by the delivery of this steep curve, the duo carefully merging their bellows and strings acoustica with all the studio tricks of 21st-century minimalist electronica, with found sounds, distortion and drone sitting artfully alongside the analogue. Many have trod this path and many have failed, the traditions colliding in a quagmire. I like to think that Spectres is a success, and, at times, a stylistic par with Sweet England, the 2003 debut by Jim Moray, if as much a surprise now as that was then, and, by being purely instrumental, that much more an accomplishment.
Opener, Gusts, dives straight into the premise, a tone poem that introduces the territory anything but gently, textures presented and framed in a ghostly ice-breaker that may cause some anxious glances in the folk club. But is it necessary to acclimatise, clearly not, as the feeling of nervy apprehension carries on and into the title track, Moore’s repeated viola phrases multi-tracked over a low drone of the squeezebox, as a distorted voice intones. All very strangely and hauntological.
More familiar territory follows, with Pop One, at first a simple, as in complex, duet between the two players, with unexpected pauses for the miked-up bellows to draw breath, muted sounds leaking in as it meanders, delightfully, towards a close, Oculus then picking up on the mood, with a sombre start, and some of the strongest melody on the album. Arbitrary mechanical percussion starts almost as the sound of horse’s hooves, before becoming altogether mechanistic, adding to the trad/modern dichotomies at play.
Now on a roll, Giga starts with an EDM pastoralism, then leaps back and forth into a jig, before thinking better again, then throwing consecutive cautions to the wind, never quite sure whether to be a dance or not. Which Lek then certainly is, a stately gavotte, with an engaging tapped rhythm, as Moss’s melodeon fills in all the gaps left by the fiddle. With more of the bellows “breath”, by now a familiar feature.
Pigeon City offers a change of mood, returning to the opening noir soundscapes, a mid-piece break that serves as a reminder not just to enjoy the tunes. With palate duly cleansed, a European ambience filters into Omens, a leisurely waltz, propelled by a pulsatile thum, backlit by eerie keyboard, before chugging into a pace that meets that of the pulse. Another highlight, met by the altogether more majestic melancholy of Green Belt, as gaunt as it is short.
Second to last Windmill Hill, has this reviewer second-guessing the song titles. Is this a reference to Wyndham Hill, the erstwhile ambient imprint or the Bristol location maybe familiar to Tom? Certainly, there is a sense of the former genre across the record as a whole, particularly here, with echoes almost of Penguin Cafe Orchestra. All too quickly that image is shattered, Balbis bringing this delightful recording to an end with a touch of Hammer horror Grand Guignol.
Whether Moore and Moss have re-defined instrumental British folk music remains open to the ear of the listener. I certainly feel they have added something and something that warrants attention. Two of the most lyrical players in the, largely, English folk tradition, Moore has most of the tunes here, if, and unmistakeably, Moss is doing most of the heavy lifting. I wonder how this may extend into a live setting, so solidly it is founded upon the studio chicanery influences, but, astonishingly, it seems these skills are eminently transferrable, as the on-line launch reveals:
Order Spectres via Bandcamp (Digital/CD/Vinyl): https://duomooremoss.bandcamp.com/