The history of British folk music holds a number of cases where incredible musicians recorded timeless records that never got their due; one such album is Elephantasia (released in 1972) by Dave Evans. The Bangor native sailed the seas with the merchant navy, learned guitar at the hands of “Morocco John,” ran a folk club, and made stringed instruments, fine wines and ceramics—quite the resume, but not one that necessarily prepares anyone for a standard career path.
In 1972, Evans experimented with a 2-track, reel-to-reel tape recorder, ending up recording two tracks, Elephantasia and Lady Portia, using that would appear on Elephantasia. His accomplices on the album included Hawkwind’s Steve Swindell on keyboards, bass player John Merrit, and Rodney Matthews on drums. Despite only selling 2,000 copies at the time and being hailed by the likes of the BBC’s John Peel, the album fell into a certain obscurity even as his recordings were eagerly shared by folks in the know.
The songs are unique; there are no extended guitar workouts. In their place are a set of 10 songs that are anything but ordinary. The instrumental Elephantasia uses double-speed guitar to extraordinary effect, creating an almost electronic-sounding high-end, complete with slide phrases, sounding like a madcap carnival. Hijinx on the high end are countered by another, quite fast, acoustic playing complimentary notes that only add to the complexity of the moment.
Rather than being a speed merchant, Evans’s playing is always in the support of his songs. On the Run conjures visions of John Martyn’s I’d Rather Be the Devil, but where Martyn tends to be more unrestrained, Evans always seems more the picture of self-control, even as the harmonica burns and the bass pulses furiously. Completely different and far more gentle is the tale of Ten Ton Tasha, a very large feline. A lovely little acoustic delight, it breezes along, never overstaying its welcome.
Evans is simply the epitome of being laid back. Combine that with a wanderlust that eventually took him to Belgium, where he plied his trade as a ceramicist who also repaired and restored instruments. He followed his own path and never worried about what others would think. Songs like That’s My Way and St. Agnes Park offer a myriad of delights that could be considered contemporary pieces if one was unaware of Evans’ history.
Unique to Evans is the notion that, for better or worse, he’s in charge. He made the most amazing music imaginable but did so on his own terms. Elephantasia is music that needs to be heard. It never demands it because that was never Dave Evans’s way.
Elephantasia is out now on Black Vinyl & CD: Bandcamp