MIKE DAVIES COLUMN FEBRUARY 2026

 

 

Rather like the current Katherine Priddy release, the latest advance single for the new album, The Bracken And Tread, about his journeys in Nepal, Make A Start sees GEORGE BOOMSMA taking a swerve away from his familiar sound with a strong Beatles psychedelic vibe to its narcotic vocals and woozy arrangement and circling melody line, as, painting a wintery backdrop, he sings about basically getting off your arse and doing something (“Thaw off and be thankful…shed off those shoddy rhymes on brotherly love/Come now my friend sitting by a winter's bitter end/Bare bones and heart sitting by a winter's work of art/One by one, tooth and nail, make a start”) rather than just keeping out the metaphorical cold.

Taken from the upcoming SCARLET FANTASTIC album, From Montreal To Rotherham, opening with echoing drums, the rhythmically slow walking Cowboy Guardian Angel (Last Night From Glasgow) is Maggie de Monde’s Bowie-inflected tribute to her late husband Leif Kahal, reflecting on their 27-year marriage.

His first release since 2020, Nuneaton’s CHRIS TYE marks an impressive return with ‘Getting Back To The Start’ (Little Dog Music), a sweetly sung, high voiced circling fingerpicked dreamy waltzer that speaks of heart weariness (“strung out again/

Tired of the daylight”) and the struggle to reset the emotional clock (“here in a state/Slowing down in a stalemate/Stalling before every move…Needing to be someone else…spend such a long time/Getting back to the start/And then you fall apart”). 

Following on from the Fuzzbox story come two more books, both available physically and digitally,  about Birmingham bands that operated on the fringes, one a memoir and the other, well,  a sort of biography wrapped in a detective story wrapped in musical archeology Written by Andy Houston,  Dead On It: In Search of Birmingham's Lost Band is a fascinating account of the titular Erdington band (initially Ded On It) who, in the early 90s, threatened to be the next big thing out of Birmingham, their music inspired by Prince’s deeper funk side (their name taken from a  song on The Black Album), the Chili Peppers, acid jazz and rock, embracing seething primal guitars, chest-throbbing bass lines and synths. They regular played jammed venues, but then they simply disappeared.

The book’s premise is that, in 2021 in the recently reopened Flapper & Firkin,  the narrator, music journalist Tom Carter, meets a mysterious stranger who hands him a cassette of a band called Dead On It, imparting no other information ither than he was the drummer. His interest piqued by the music, Carter embarks on a quest to find out more about the band, whose names he doesn’t know, and try and track them down.

What ensues is a mix of fiction and fact, real people reimagined as part of the story. Here I have to put my hand up and say that I am one of them, drawing on my days writing the Tapedecked column for BrumBeat and quoting my reviews of the band, to which end I come over as a sort of keeper of the scrolls, though sadly, while it has my career in music correct, I never lived in a  large Victorian house with a  purple door. Regularly cited in the book as the pundit with the keys to the quest, I confess to having a  smile at some of the descriptions and comments of my fictionalised self.  

Of equal importance in Carter following the breadcrumbs is my fellow BrumBeat writer Max Freeth who subsequently enters the narrative and whose reviews are also quoted along with various other writers who contributed to the mag and others of its ilk.

Illustrated with deliberately grainy black and white photos to add to the air of mystery, following press cuttings, interviews and fading memories, it slowly builds a picture of the band, the record deals that never came to fruition, their musical shifts in gear and sound, the gigs they played, mixing that with a lovely account of how they sent a cassette to Prince (they apparently did) and an imagined scenario of how that might have played out, discussing them with George and while  intrigued too busy to get involved. Whether he actually sent them an invitation to join the fan club and a merchandising catalogue is true, it probably should be.

Ultimately, Carter manages to uncover the names of the band members (Iain Reid, Chris Booth, Simon Lush, Andy Martin) and what happened to at least three of them after they split up, the book ending with lyrics to their songs, Houston summing it up as “exploring what it means to go off-script, flirt with greatness, and laugh at yourself when it doesn’t work out”.  It’s a quick and absorbing read that   captures the story of many a local band and leaves you wanting to actually hear the music, none of which, at present anyway, is available on line. Maybe that’s a project someone else might want to take up.

By coincidence, Freeth is actually the author of the other book, Ausgang:Scarred Lips,  an autobiography of himself and the band from his childhood in Winson Green and Cape Hill, through teenage years (comic books, kung fu, yoga, discovering punk, Barbarellas, etc.), art school, his first proper band The Solicitors (playing what he termed nagoy music) and the Kabuki, a magnificently unique bass-heavy outfit in a similar musical field to Alien Sex  Fiend and Sex Gang Children with whom I recorded a Beacon Radio session and whose solitary single, 1982’s I Am a Horse stands the test of time, and the subsequent formation of the goth-inclined Ausgang  alongside Kabuki bassist Cub, guitarist Matthew and new addition Ibo on drums.

They made their debut in in September 1983 at the Powerhouse, toured with The Cult and signed to Criminal Damage Records, their Solid Glass Spine single making it to 23 on the UK Indie Chart before Cub left to be replaced by Stu and the band moved to FM Records, releasing debut album Manipulate  in January 1986 before eventually setting up their own Shakedown label, briefly taking on the name Ausgang-a-Go-Go, a slogan a friend had painted on his jacket.

After a series of musical permutations, they eventually split in 1987, reforming in 2003, releasing the Licked album two years later and enjoying a whole new level of success with festivals and gigs in New York, Prague and Berlin.

Blessed with a seemingly photographic memory, Max goes into great detail, both about his personal and musical life, working as a journalist for BrumBeat and alongside Paul Flower (who, bless him, refers to me as his mentor) at MCP, the major Midlands gig promotors of the time. These days, alongside the current version of Ausgang (a new album featuring the song of the book title is in the pipeline), he teaches a form of yoga.

Taking chapter headings from songs or book titles, it is, as you’d expect a journey littered with familiar musical stories of  highs and lows and I was pleased to see mention of Max’s daughter Naomi, who released several singles on Gut between 1997 and 1999 but never received the attention and acclaim she deserved. She later became Phoenix, her band at the time featuring Dan Whitehouse on guitar.

As befits a band who once recorded a track about a  one-sided conversation between Max and his bed (Kabuki has done similar with Hair), it’s an at times bizarre story but, on account of his dynamic writing and incidental anecdotes,  never less than engrossing reading, another snapshot of how the city forged bands that may never have found mainstream success but became cults whose stories and influences have endured.

 

 

MIKE DAVIES COLUMN JANUARY 2026

 

Hailing from the North East but now Birmingham-based after graduating from the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire in June 2022,   while jazz-folk singer-songwriter LUCY MELLENFIELD  had a  mini-album, In My Short Time, back in 2020, Tell The Water, She Will Listen, released on Birmingham’s Stoney Lane Records, is her full length debut. Drawing on themes of fragility, love, loss and the turmoil of society, she plays grand piano, upright piano, Rhodes, keyboards, synths and acoustic guitar with accompaniment from Tom Henery   on guitars, Alex Collett-Sinfield   on sax, mandolin, kalimba and flute, bassist Josh Vadiveloo, drummer Jonno Gaze  and producer  Chris Hyson on synths.

Described as a musical snapshot of the last five years, she says it draws on  how, in her early twenties, she’s faced fears, battled with relationships, fell in love, saw loved ones suffer, revisited childhood trauma, experienced health scares, and raised questions about the frightening society we live in, with music, the water of the title, being her support system and means of communication.

 

Striking a theme of fragility from the start, it opens with the hushed piano-based Like A Feather, a lightly fluttering song about coping with family conflict, divorce and being pushed to choose sides as she sings “What team am I on?...I’m walking along the wire…Talk to my brother/He’s just another one caught in the game”.

That’s followed with the watery rippling Fact Of Life, the arrangement becoming fuller with drums, keys and brass, her soaring voice intimate and exposed, conjuring a mood reminiscent of a cocktail that stirs together Tanita Tikaram, Jacquie McShee and perhaps even Kate Bush, as she addresses relationship uncertainty and the need for clarity (“Am I a fact in your life?/Or am I just a passing fancy hoping that I’m yours/I will be okay if it comes to that/So please don’t be afraid to tell me how it is”).

With pensive repeated guitar notes and an uneasy brooding atmosphere against which her quivering and clear voice floats like the vocal equivalent of Millais’s Ophelia,  Paper Thin goes to the heart of an unpredictable, agonising love affair with themes of dependency, instability (“I’m on the brink of flying away in pieces/My cards aren’t glued

They’re loose, loose as stacked sticks/One little nudge and they’ll come crashing down”) and, again, the torment of uncertainty (“Will you be here tomorrow like you were today?

…your charms, they’re so intangible/Just like paper slipping through my fingers/I lay myself out for you/A soft bed of flowers where you can rest your head/But when I open my eyes, all I see is a bed for one/Instead of two”).

 

One of only three tracks that clock in under five minutes,  the fingerpicked Yellow Duck begins with the image of a lonesome yellow duck wading through a pond at night, the song evolving with nervy piano notes into a  reflection of  a young woman trying to find a solid rock amid life’s turbulent waters (“no one to confide in/Put up a wall, defence is her strength/Swallowing blindly everything that is left/The lights go out on this once lit fun fair/Push and a pull, pull and a push/A mother’s attention and a mother’s curse/Rippling, wallowing, shattering, scattering/Clinging on… Floating around/These days never feel like walking on solid ground”).

Again under five minutes, etched on hesitant piano notes, Orange and Lemons is a more upbeat love song (“Each kiss was just another moment’s bliss/Looking over the hillside, there was no doubt in my mind…Now let me wonder how a face as pure as yours/Ended up in my bed next to me…You made me smile like I’ve never smiled before…It was your voice that melted my heart/That now runs free through the valleys to nowhere”).

The first of six that push beyond seven minutes, riding a jittery pulsing rhythm the slow jazz grooved Remember This reflects back on childhood with “homely smells of corned beef stew/Hand cut, crinkled chips fresh from the pan/Kippers and some buttered bread on a Sunday” and how “she would stand in front of the mirror/In her cream white coat and bag stuck to her side/Perfecting her bright red smile/Before jumping into the car and racing me down the hill”), switching parents (“Perched on the arm of his chair/He would tell me I’m solid; what a thing to say/But he’d teach me to take pride in my words/And read me tales like the Selfish Giant”) before  the present makes its stark presence felt (“let me take your old frail hands/For you deserve the world, but age takes its toll… how I wish I could take you out for a dance and a bitter lemon/See you sit down at the bar/And entertain the crowd with your um cha cha”),  poignantly closing with “You let me see that love was true…Sparked a moment in my heart/That hangs like a piece of art today…Can you hear my prayers to you now?”

Only slightly shorter, another ruminative piano ballad, Ground Zero returns to feelings of being emotionally untethered (“all the faith I had has begun to dissipate”), both defiantly self-reliant and vulnerable (“I can walk on my own two feet, but I need somebody to join me through the folds/I’ve chosen a lonely road/A path away from home/I can’t escape now/Just got to wait for the snow”) as the poetic takes hold as she sings “fear grows like ivy on a house in disarray/Send me a sign…Feels like Christmas morning/Sipping chocolate on a carpet ride/Oh, but watch out for the white bear/He is known to tantalize/Feeding off your wonder/Dancing rings around your eyes”).

Edging close to ten minutes with glacial piano and haunted woodwind and brass notes conjuring a wintery nocturne feel, Why Fear The Night with its lengthy instrumental play out is steeped in nature imagery as it explores the world of dreams and the imagination (“Earth’s witchcraft begins work for tonight…Once the world is sleeping a young girl stirs/A strange sound seems to have awakened her/So she turns on her reading lamp and takes a glimpse outside/A fox’s eyes meet hers”). She urges “prepare to take flight/let go of your pillow/Creatures crawl out from their lair/Mysterious insects flitting in and out of the glare…Senses now aroused, the young girl takes a chance/Her night lamp by her side, she leaps outside to dance/She swoops below the moon who unveils her pretty face/And prances over roof tops, singing sounds of love and grace/let go and fly”.

Equally minimalistic and atmospheric, her voice, at times wordless, flowing across the scales, the languid, sax-caressed Breathing Sideways turns to social commentary (“Truth has no place here no more/Doubting our own kind…Some of us find it hard to stop the train/That we’ve found ourselves captive on/Caught on a trembling jet stream/That opens up a world of grave uncertainty”), a world where “Invisible warfare is everywhere…And all these stories, they give reason to doubt/And all these lies, they just give reason to shout”) but which has become the norm in which we live.

 It heads to a close with the sparse piano arrangement of Pillars with its thematic echoes of seeking safety in conformity (“If you dare stand out to face the rain/You will only find yourself in pain…I thought I was strong/Thought that I could speak my mind about what I believe in/Turns out I was wrong/I rely on numbers and agreement of others/But turns out that most of us do”). Singing “I urge to speak but all my reasoning is dried up from the dust of doubtful winds/And every pore is left to dry, left to quench the water denied to me”, it’s about trying to sort the truth from the clouds that obscure, rising to take on progressive rock colours as it concludes “Thoughts like iron bars are cast upon me…

Some plucked from the air and some are rooted in the soil/But if we don’t know which is which/We’ll believe none”) before the dying fade of the piano.

It ends with the two part combined 11 minutes plus At The Mercy, part I with sparse resonant bass notes and narcotic vocals and stream of consciousness lyrics (“Visceral reactions, responses, internal fights/Intrinsic fears like stabbing spears forging their way through/Psychological patterns, a web of intricate insecurities/Non-sensical, irrational, delusional/But human”) as, in a fight or flight, reaction she withdraws into herself  (“I lay battered, overwhelmed/Lost, scared/Vulnerable to the unexplainable/Vulnerable to the unattainable/It’s a reminder of this living vessel I am occupying”). It feels like an existential prayer to the elements find sense among the noise and chaos that afflict us emotionally, physically and psychologically, the lengthier part II pared down to just the barest instrumentation and the repeated otherworldly lines “We hold our hands up/We’re at the mercy of our insides” before it rises to a climactic swell.

A musically masterfully crafted poetic and at times metaphysical journey into and exploration of  the complex emotional synapses that shape our anxieties, needs and hopes in an ever shifting world of relationships and psychological pulls, this is a stunning and immersive piece of work that deserves to see her follow Katherine Priddy as the next Birmingham sensation. 

Talking of whom, her third and final single from the upcoming These Frightening Machines album, Hurricane (Cooking Vinyl) sees her spreading her musical wings for a very sultry, bossa nova flavoured track with Bond theme undertones that features Ben Christophers on electric guitar, bass. piano and organ with Simon Dobson on trumpet.

 

MIKE DAVIES COLUMN DECEMBER 2025

 

Following on from the Lord Of Chaos single featuring Kathy Pilkinton on vocals and Graham Coe on cello  with its theme of shedding your burdens and from whence the EP title comes, CHRIS CLEVERLEY now releases God Of All Things (Opiate Records), the full five track follow up to last year’s seasonal-themed In The Shadow Of John The Divine. Again putting a different spin on the usual seasonal, there’s two further originals and three traditional numbers given the  Cleverley treatment. The latter  opens the collection with a suitably wintery instrumental arrangement of The Holly & The Ivy, the second being the more obscure The Falcon or Corpus Christi Carol, voices held in the distance with a liturgical arrangement taking its cue from Jeff Buckley’s and the third closing up with his and Kim Lowings’s haunting medieval-shaded arrangement of Coventry Carol, a staple at All Saints Church in his hometown of Kings Heath and one rooted in his childhood memories. The other original, a co-write and duet with Molly Rymer Frost Giant which, invoking  the imagery of the Jötunn, the ancient Norwegian embodiments of the primal forces of nature and chaos and an analogy for the  frozen disconnect in contemporary connections with each other and the world in which we live as they sing “shards of frozen/Haemoglobin/A frozen ocean/It’s you I’m hoping for”. Quite magical. 

The second taster for KATHERINE PRIDDY’s third album, ‘Frightening Machines’ (Cooking Vinyl) is the title track, a dreamy, slow walking, keyboards-stroked number that, the title referring to our complex but fragile bodies, comes from personal experience of when hers stopped functioning as it should (“Seems things have taken a turn/All these levers and systems won’t do as they’re told anymore/I’m having to learn/That these frightening machines aren’t as tough as they seem…now I’m calling/Out for a sign that this body’s still mine after all”). Feeling “a passenger at my own wheel”, it ends with recovery as she sings “I just needed to take time to heal”. A fine body of work indeed. 

The second single from THE ENEMY’s forthcoming album, Social Disguises,  Trouble is a riff chugging swaggery  rocker with punky echoes of early Bowie that frontman 

Tom Clarke says addresses the feeling of  “when you realise you’re no longer part of counter-culture, or sub-culture, when you’re in that grey area between being anti-establishment, and being the establishment” as he sings “I don't understand a thing these days/Maybe I'm too set in my ways”.

Piano notes falling like snowflakes, DAN WHITEHOUSE sings of Christmas in the trenches on The Bells Of Brierley Hill (Want To Know).  Co-written with Chris Cleverley as part of a Black Country writing workshop,  the song is told through the voice of a young soldier lying in the trenches on Christmas Eve and  imagining the sound of “the church bells/Of St Michael’s ring across the town/A call for all to come together/A day of peace, a chance lay our weapons down”. He’s also just released a Bandcamp only cover a David Essex’s seasonal evergreen A Winter’s Tale, a simple piano arrangement that allows his voice to bring out all the regret in the lyrics. 

 

MARC LEMON sees out the year in his Village Green Machine persona with Good Morning Mrs Kitteridge (from whence the name comes), an organ-backed, and obviously Kinks-influenced,  song about a  Cockney lady who lived next door when he was a child, and tells how he helped across the road when she returned on a bus from a night out at a  club with the women from work, somewhat worse for drink.

ANDY LLOYD has been busy reworking his back catalogue again, this time as New Shoots which gives the  21 tracks, variously from his Bloomsbury Set, Wedge, Sanctuary and Food incarnations a reggae overhaul. It all works far better than you might imagine, giving them a Jamaican groove that, rooted in both the 60s ska of Laurel Aitken, John Holt, Horace Andy,  Tony Tribe and later early Marley days,  can stand proud alongside fellow Brummies UB40’s takes on the genre.  I’m not going through all of them but you really should check out A Thing Like That. Gentleman Of The Road, the Marley-infused Getting Away From It All, the breezy I Remember The Times, the more dub shaded title track and an unrecognisable version of his 1983 Top 60 hit Hanging Around With The Big Boys. Sounding incredibly fresh, and infectious  it’s available on Spotify but he really should make downloads available on Bandcamp, and spark a real career renaissance.

His first new music of the year, trailing the second of his Christmas EPs, CHRIS CLEVERLEY releases the shimmering Lord Of Chaos on which, accompanied by Graham Coe on cellos and Kathy Pilkinton on vocals with John Elliott handling programming is a late December winter prayer to the gods of ice, gods of oceans, gods of spirals and agents of chaos for a “bright white light, that might hit me like a blessing” as release from the “extraordinary weight we carry/All through the year”.

The second single from his work in progress album documenting his travels in Nepal, 

Accompanied by drummer Ally McDougal, bassist Bart Debney-Davies, Will Looms on electric guitar and Nick Cowan on keys, GEORGE BOOMSMA releases the reflective You Said, a slow walking, gently fingerpicked, drum shuffled lightly blues-tinged song softly crooned in a whispering vocal about an “untimely adieu” and an unspoken carpe diem conversation  about casting off the things that weigh us down (“the world is passing you by two steps at a time/Have faith in your sibling/She is older and wiser than you/Enjoy the ride, it soon will pass quickly/And be filled with pride from climbing impossible skies”).

 

Available on Bandcamp or as a limited edition handmade CD, STYLUSBOY  releases The Coleshill Tapes (Home Session),  a four song EP inspired by the residents of Coleshill who shared their memories from World War II.  Opening with the upbeat strummed reverie of  Pockets Full Of Life And Freedom with its talk of waltzing the dark away at Saturday dances and battles paused for a football match between foes, it moves on to the plucked notes of  the wistful poignancy of the slow, softly crooned  winter-set The Journey That Never Came Back. A Better Tomorrow is as musically upbeat and ultimately optimistic  as the title suggests with the lyrics recounting taking shelter from bombing raids and the community spirit of the residents and it ends with Raise A Glass, a thank you toast to those who’ve gone before, the granddads, the fathers and brothers “who fought for me and you”, the mothers and daughters and sisters “who held life  together like glue” and “those who sailed that day’...and those who brought them back home again”. 

MIKE DAVIES COLUMN OCTOBER 2025

Fronted by Maggie K De Monde, SCARLET FANTASTIC continue their comeback with From Montreal to Rotherham released next year by Last Night From Glasgow, co-written and produced by John Walters and featuring both him and Basil Gabbidon of Steel Pulse fame. It’s heralded by the first single, a hypnotic, moody, part spoken, electro-clopping cabaret with strings cover of Bowie’s Time from Alladin Sane though whether the line about falling wanking to the floor is more likely to get airplay than it was 52 years ago remains to be seen. (www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOSKelrE0bA)

KATHERINE PRIDDY gets into an early Halloween mood with new single Matches (Cooking Vinyl), which, the first taste of next year’s  sonically varied and adventurous These Frightening Machines, is set to a building lolloping rhythm with a driving drums battery  and hushed, conspiratorial vocals was, , inspired by the witch trials and, echoing the album’s, sees her reclaiming the voices of the women who have been silenced, persecuted and misunderstood throughout history.  Katherine will play Birmingham Town Hall on May 9.

Reverting to his VILLAGE GREEN MACHINE alias Marc Lemon’s revisited and reworked English Café, about a group of university students about to bid final farewells to one another, knowing realistically they will never see one another again,  a fine piece of 60s jangly folk pop that he says took Dave Davies as its inspiration, though anyone who’s into Vinny Peculiar or Cleaners From Venus  should embrace with open ears. (www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8z54-a3yp4)

ROB PETERS & THE SLAPDASH COWBOYS have also done a spot of revisiting, releasing a newly recorded single version of the staccato rhythmically  stabbing My Rende-Vous originally from and his first release since 2024’s Dreams album, the psych-freak out section now featuring demented fluttering guitar. He’s launching it with a gig at the Red Lion Folk Club, Kings Heath on Wednesday November 19th along with the expanded Slapdash Cowboys line up of Hannah Brown on drums and vocals, Kate Hall on bass, synth, percussion and vocals and Emma Reading on electric guitar and percussion with special guest Katherine Abbott.

MIKE DAVIES COLUMN SEPTEMBER 2025

JOHNSON & FINNEMORE marks the debut duo teaming of Birmingham pedal steel guitar legend Stewart Johnson and Swampmeat Family Band frontman Dan Finnemore for Find A Love That Brings You Home (Gulf Coast) featuring, among others, contributions from Buzzby Bywater on bass, pianist Liam Grundy, fiddler Howard Gregory,  and Stewart’s daughter Hannah,  Julian Littman and Charlie Dore on vocals Johnson providing dobro and guitar alongside pedal steel,  it’s steeped in country but also embraces the blues and touches of 70s Laurel Canyon, opening proceedings with the Hawaiian colours of the fiddle and mandolin arrangement crooned country waltzer Babybird.  The equally country How Many Summers? takes a chugging rhythm as Finnemore sings about shining on everyone and giving your love away until it’s gone, followed by the more desert country soul paranoia and anxiety of Beady Eye. A compact 100 seconds, again with Hawaiian steel colours, the easy swaying How’s The World Treating You is the sole instrumental, staying in a laid-back JJ Cale groove with Ride High where Neil Young echoes seep into the slow shuffle. 

A love song, piano tinkling away, Ear To The Ground is another swayalong, the tone changing with the Johnny Cash cowboy chug of The Gun, a love song too but of a much darker hue, Stewart’s solo plucking out notes like silver bullets while Hannah duel vocals with Dan. It ends with the title track, a two stepping honky tonker with Mariachi brass flavours and percussive clicking.

Doing the rounds is also the documentary, The Many Lives Of Stewart Johnson tracing the man’s illustrious career that, a former army brat, has seen him play all over the world and in styles ranging from rock n roll and blues to bluegrass and country, even playing in  stage productions of Great Balls Of Fire and Jailhouse Rock as well with daughters Hannah and Sophie  in The Toy Hearts and the Hannah in The Broken Hearts.

 

A taster for his next album which charts his experience travelling in Nepal, GEORGE BOOMSMA channels the choppy percussive handclappy style of Stealer’s Wheel for the ‘Pokhara Line’ which,  set during a bus journey from Pokhara to Kathmandu, picks up the story midway from when his travelling companions left and he  continued the journey solo, the song capturing both the excitement of what lies ahead and the underlying uncertainty faced by a now lone traveller. The title refers to one of the world's steepest Zipline which, in Pokhara and over a mile long can reach speeds up 62 miles per hour.(www.georgeboomsma.com)

Basking in the glow of great reviews for his 2018 debut album Santiago, AMIT DATTANI was brought crashing down to earth when he was diagnosed with a degenerative nerve condition and told that, within two years, he would no longer be able to play. Refusing to accept such a  fate,  he learnt an entirely new way of playing and now, seven years on  armed with a custom-built guitar, he defiantly returns with The Wrong Kind Of One which, recorded live with Steph Sanders on drums, again showcases his folk-blues fingerpicking style, mixing songs and instrumentals, it embraces self-penned numbers and traditionals alike.

It opens with the title track’s skittering notes, scampering drums, and extended picked play out which, reminiscent of  Will The Circle Be Unbroken, addresses refugees and the journeys they’ve made to escape violence, hardship, war and destruction only to find themselves  dehumanised and mistreated in the lands where they sought refuge. 

That’s followed by  his take on Make Me Down A Pallet On Your Floor, a traditional blues about homelessness that continues to have resonance in today’s social climate, returning to a theme of resilience and paying attention to your mental health in times of dark days and anxiety with the slow sway of Steady the Boat. The first of three instrumentals, the melodically circling Gathering Acorns was written during covid after watching his young son picking up acorns in the  local park, the childhood theme continuing with the ragtime touches of Golden Days, inspired by their walks to school, singing songs together.

As you might surmise, turning to electric guitar, the steady marching beat Now I Can Play On with its  hints of Richard Thompson is about his new guitar  and being able to continue making music, it getting a second nod in the brief instrumental Tony, referring to both its name and his father’s nickname. The last of the vocal tracks is his  slower tempo  cover of his favourite Dylan song, One Too Many Mornings, , ending with the third instrumental,  bringing blues colours to the traditional gospel hymn Just A Closer Walk With Thee,  a thank you to whatever divine power brought about his prognosis defying living musical resurrection. 

The second taster of the upcoming Live Freaky! Die Freaky!” psych-rockers SOLAR EYES  release Time Waits For No One  (Fierce Panda), a churning, heavy drumming   groove monster that, opening with a sample of Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear And Loathing in Los Angeles, is about being stuck in a rot and desperate to get out and live life in the best way possible, Glenn Smyth spitting out “no, no, no, no”.