Buck Curran’s ‘One Evening and Other Folk Songs’ is an album of hidden depths. His talent is an alchemical one: seemingly quotidian musical ingredients are turned into rare metals in his hands, and with this eclectic but hugely talented band, the results are doubly impressive.
It’s been less than a year since the last dispatch from the slightly weird and always wonderful world of Buck Curran. Last September saw the release of The Long Distance, a departure of sorts which saw him create a series of short synth instrumentals that married an appreciation of deep time and space (the cover photo, courtesy of NASA, shows the ‘twin jet nebula’) to a love of the cinematic music recorded for Werner Herzog by devotional kraut collective Popol Vuh. While its foray into inorganic sounds and filmic structures hinted at a move away from Curran’s signature alt-folk guitar, the feel of the album was very much of a piece with his penchant for spaced-out, open-ended compositions that owe as much to the avant-garde as to the fingerpicking of his hero Robbie Basho.
For his latest album, the tellingly titled One Evening and Other Folk Songs, Curran appears at first to have reverted to type. It is a collection of eight new songs based around his distinctive, highly accomplished guitar playing and his impressive lyricism. But look and listen a little closer, and you will discover an album of hidden depths. The cover provides a clue as to the new direction: there on the front of the record sleeve is a list of the musicians that appear alongside Curran, presented in a way that puts you in mind of some great jazz combo of the 1950s. Here are Dave Barbarossa (most famous as the drummer in Adam and the Ants and Bow Wow Wow), keyboard player Jodi Pedrali, bassist Roberto Frassini Moneta, and singer Adele Pappalardo. And while the music may bear no superficial relationship to jazz, the concept is similar: these are musicians perfectly aware of their position of importance as collaborators.
Indeed, the album was born from the collaborative process. Curran credits a strong working relationship with Pedrali as the catalyst, and as soon as the rest of the band was assembled, the recordings began to take an off-the-cuff, almost improvisational form. The relaxed approach to recording makes its way into the songs, which are predominantly first or second takes, and the whole album has a joyous feel to it. Opening track One Evening gallops along in the space between classic rock and folk. There is a jam-band looseness to the playing, but not in a sloppy way: the melodies are taut and Barbarossa’s signature drumming – propulsive, primal and strangely subtle – holds everything together. There is a frazzled psychedelic edge to everything too: Pedrali’s keys play a similar role to Richard Manuel’s organ on the best bits of The Band’s Music from Big Pink.
Deep in the Loving Arms of My Babe begins with a delicate filigree of acoustic guitar before Curran dives into a tale whose themes are so recognisable they are almost primordial. But the band are able to breathe new life into even the most well-worn of ideas. Curran’s voice is becoming more deep-fried and rough-hewn with the years and is perfectly suited to this material, while Pappalardo’s backing vocals help give the song a surprising emotional heft. She takes centre stage on Black is the Colour, a simmering combination of folk, soul and classic, Doors-esque psych-rock. Pedrali’s playing could be Ray Manzarek, while Moneta’s bass lopes along steadily and with an admirable purpose. It’s easy to forget that this is a traditional song, so successfully does it take on a new, subdued assertiveness.
The instrumental Sadness provides a vehicle for Curran’s consistently expressive guitar playing. Here, he creates a bleak but beautiful soundscape with an electric guitar performance that would put many a rock god to shame. Red Bird takes a simple melodic and lyrical premise and turns it into something highly atmospheric: Curran has acknowledged the influence of The Pentangle on this album, and nowhere is it more palpable than here, an object lesson in how less is often more. Song For Francesco provides another workout for Curran’s guitar, while Pappalardo’s wordless vocals imbue the piece with an alluring sense of mystery. It is here that the album’s filmic qualities become most apparent: it could easily pass for the incidental music in some experimental western. An alternative version included as a bonus is a lithe and lissome thing, showing not only the adaptability of the band but also their talent for capturing particular and nuanced moods. Zitkala-Sa (Song For Shylah) is equally mysterious but even more sensitive. Curran’s playing sounds almost like a folkier version of Maurice Deebank from Felt: he has a preternatural, almost eerie control over time, and despite the loose recording setup, it feels like no note is out of place, such is his obvious affinity for his instrument.
The album’s final song (before a collection of four bonus tracks made up of alternate, live and demo versions) is the brooding, brilliant New Moontide. Curran’s voice is earthy, full of dark portent, while Pappalardo provides an almost spectral counterpoint, and the lyrics are imagistic, full of ancient and elemental forces.
One Evening and Other Folk Songs is an album of elements in more ways than one: it is elemental in the sense that it has a gloriously untamed quality, where vigorous rhythms play out against melodies that are sometimes so delicate that they might have been woven by spiders. And the lyrics too speak of cold winds and rain and thunder and the search for sunlight. But it is also an album that relies on distinct elements to create its unique whole. These are elements that work together in unexpected ways: the primitive drumming, the quiet, unpretentious sophistication of the songwriting, the surprising soulfulness of the vocals. They come together potently on the alternate take of Black is the Colour, where the bluesy, soulful folk takes on a more sinuous form. Curran is able to turn a well-known folk standard into a journey through a beautiful, treacherous landscape. His talent is an alchemical one: seemingly quotidian musical ingredients are turned into rare metals in his hands, and with this eclectic but hugely talented band, the results are doubly impressive.
One Evening and Other Folk Songs releases 24th May 2024 on Obsolete Recordings and on CD on 23 August 2024 via ESP-Disk’
Order via:
https://obsoleterecordings.bandcamp.com/album/one-evening-and-other-folk-songs