London-based, Mersey-born songwriter Robin Elliott has released three EPs over the last few years (including Green Ginger Wine, reviewed here). A folk singer with a wary eye on the modern world, he is finally releasing his debut album, There is a Land, this month. Produced by Ben Walker, it is gloriously eclectic and constantly shifting yet firmly grounded. Elliott’s poetic eye roves the streets while hints of jazz and nagging psychedelia expand his folky palette.
The lead single, Another Country, opens the album with a hesitant waltz, gently swept along by the faintest organ and polite guitar re-verb. Welcomingly betraying his Mersey roots, Elliott’s mellow tenor also showcases his lyrically sharp-eyed observation and wry wonder. As the song builds, the organ becomes more fervent, the waltz more sure-footed, and harmonies raise it to monumental levels.
The Classics is a gently odd and slightly skewed number. With a blast of rock guitar here and some robust drums there, an indie-pop number that feels slightly tongue-in-cheek as Elliott sings, “No one makes them like they used to” whilst making them exactly like they used to. To further compound the mischief, the song starts with a recording of his dad testing out a dictaphone. It causes a strange juxtaposition, entirely in keeping with the rest of the album.
Elliott has stripped the instrumentation right back on previous EPs, sometimes sounding a little like Nick Drake. Here, there is a real sense of drama and occasion, a real sense that he is finding his voice and exploring his world. On William V, he takes on a great spread of history, stirring in personal memories and snatches of more recent, urban, disturbing events. The result is dizzying; as Spanish-sounding guitar and organ swirl the mists of time and, 60s-flecked, it swells to a monumental crescendo.
At the centre of the album sits Southport at Night, an eight-minute epic of brushed drums, gentle harmonising and barely suppressed confusion. It is here that Elliott’s songwriting begs to be noticed as he traces journeys through frustrating urban walkways, hemmed in by choppy guitars until he finds the light. What feels like 2000s indie influences gives way to pine-scented folk flutterings and glorious harmonies. Tempos change, landscapes alter, and the wariness of the opening tracks fall away. Southport at Night is divided into two four-minute pieces, but more than that, it divides the whole album in half.
Nowhere In Particular briefly rekindles the indie flame, as brilliant character studies and fine scouse storytelling crash into that swirly organ before a mumbled interlude and starts again. It is unsteady on its feet, gently wonky until, finally, the whole song careens to a noisy, cathartic ending. Finally, it is time to allow nature to breathe. Nowhere In Particular is when the city is left behind, and the fresh air can be slowly inhaled.
The title track, There is a Land, sways gently to the sound of a bubbling Hammond and raindrop echoes of an electric guitar. It is a lazy day on a riverbank, lush and green, sleepy and twinkling. Is The Sun Shining continues the blissed-out afternoon feeling. There are Jazz-y taps on the drums as the organ swells beneath it, Elliott’s voice folky now, gentle, thoughtful, elegiac. All angst is forgotten as the album floats towards its close.
Mute the Button drifts along with, mainly, just the analogue plop of a synth for company. Elliott, the poet, crafts characters and muses on the role of musicians as the harmonies mass around him once again. Finally, silvery slivers of guitar and fuzzy prods of organ join Elliott’s voice until, inevitably, the bliss collapses into bewilderment. After a kaleidoscopic offering of folk and pop, indie rock and psychedelia, jazz and poetic storytelling, there seems to be nothing else to say.
There is a Land is a wonderfully ambitious and well-executed debut.
https://www.robinelliottmusic.co.uk/