Ferran Orriols is quite unabashed when it comes to his open relationship with music. Cançons, the short opening track of his new album Darrere els horts, consists of a single couplet, sung mostly a cappella in Orriols’ native Catalan, which translates roughly as ‘I don’t demand anything from songs and they don’t demand anything either.’ It’s a freewheeling philosophy, and one that doesn’t tie him down to a particular genre or era when it comes to inspiration. Although the Barcelona native’s sound may at first seem quite self-contained, in reality, he is well-versed in a wide variety of musical forms, and he mixes them with ease and lightness. Hermoses, for example, is imbued with the spirit of European folk-pop of the sixties, with some of the irrepressible energy of ye-ye, but also perhaps the laid-back soul you might associate with the music of Brazil.
The approach serves Orriols well, ensuring that the album contains enough twists and turns to keep us interested for twenty-four songs. It’s more melodic, more winsome and, on balance, more satisfying than his 2023 LP, Plata, which wedded his twee-folk leanings to more overtly dream-pop arrangements. Here, we have Orriols as troubadour, and although many of these songs are fleshed out by accompanying musicians, there is an overriding sense that Orriols is singing them from his own, very personal space. A song like Fer l’amour wouldn’t feel out of place strummed by a campfire on a nighttime beach, while Tom Delonge – a paean to the Blink-182 frontman – sounds like one of those near-novelty songs that the Beach Boys seemed to be able to knock out in their sleep, but which contained some of their best work. La Mamorta is a glam-folk stomp in praise of the marmot. Devendra Banhart would be proud.
Banhart’s natural forebears Donovan and Vashti Bunyan loom large over tender acoustic kiss-off No t’estimaré sempre igual and disarmingly cute life lesson Les dents. Like Donovan at his unpredictable best, Orriols is adept at peppering his songs with surprising juxtapositions: Les Presses has a brief shock of electric guitar and drums, while Mustang mixes up Balkan and Wild West influences with oddly effective results, and the unaccompanied traditional La Morronga sees him share lead vocals with Roser Reixach. The cheeky/grumpy protestations of El Grinch (‘It’s Sunday and I don’t like football) are sent against a warped background synth, while the following song, Artistes, is almost Celtic rock and Estima’s melody hits like a Catalan Paul Simon.
It’s tempting to think of Orriols as a kind of savant or outsider artist working in isolation, but this sells short the breadth of his collaborations and the human warmth of his music. On one hand, you can hear the crackle of campfires – literally on songs like Benparit – and on the other, there are the subtle but always noticeable studio interjections, electronic hints and full-band rockouts (like the propulsive Càmping) that keep you guessing and make the album a bit more of a white-knuckle ride than you might expect. Roses Grogues (Yellow Roses) is perhaps the most interesting curveball of all: a languid, discursive ballad originally written and performed in the 1970s by UK folk-rockers Heron, it features Heron’s own Steve Jones, who provides a beautiful, delicate piano. Along with the jubilant closing title track, it provides a joyous coda to one of the most unexpected triumphs of the year so far.
Darrere els shorts (May 9th, 2025) Great Canyon Records
Order via Bandcamp: https://greatcanyonrecords.bandcamp.com/album/darrere-els-horts-lp