Wednesday 30 November 2011

The Walkabouts - Travels in the Dustland

The Walkabouts
Travels in the Dustland
Glitterhouse GRCD 731

I first saw the Walkabouts perform in 1986 – I’m pretty sure it was at a bar named the 5-0 on 15th Avenue East in Seattle. They were a young band then, but the potential and the deep level of artistry was already there. Seven years later they were my first interview assignment when I started writing for The Rocket, and I couldn’t have been happier; I’d been a fan for a while then. Over the years I came to know them and develop a huge respect and love of their work. So, when talking to Chris Eckman a couple of years ago about his excellent Dirtmusic project, I asked if there’d ever be another Walkabouts album: “If we don’t do it soon it might never happen,” he answered, and the future didn’t look too good.

But they did do it, and Travels in the Dustland is more than worth the long wait. It’s still quite inimitably the Walks with the driving guitar rhythms and intensely poetic lyrics. But it also builds on what’s gone before. Since the 1990s there’s been a more cinematic sense to their music, but this time around it’s fully realised in what’s essentially a suite of songs, and that realisation is musical as well as lyrical. “My Diviner” and “The Dustlands” both have wide sweeps of sounds, but with minute attention to details that help add to that widescreen sensibility, such as the chamber orchestra on “The Dustlands” or the trumpet that echoes distantly towards the end of the piece to offer the idea of space. The band bring in a number of guests but use them very sparingly – this remains very much a group disc, one with a feel of the dry, parched Southwest rather than the lush green of their Northwest home. For musicians who don’t play together so often these days, they lock in together beautifully, and it’s a compliment to say you never notice the rhythm section; what they do is so exact, so perfect for each song that they don’t need to stand out. Chris Eckman and Carla Torgerson are still the front people, their voices complementing each other as they always have.

It’s an album with epic ambitions and performances to match. A number of the songs are more than six minutes long, but never seem stretched out, a series of connected vignettes that highlight Eckman’s literate lyrics, which still possess that Raymond Carver-esque quality of image and a story encompassed in a few words. What they’ve created isn’t a rock album, but a disc that’s ultimately American music, both in sound and words tugging at the fabric (both real and mythical) of the country, and it’s a brilliant piece of works.

Thursday 24 November 2011

Last Friday I discovered that my second novel, Cold Cruel Winter, had been named one of the Top 10 Mysteries of 2011 by Library Journal. At first I didn’t believe it, even when I saw it, and then I became almost speechless for the rest of the day. Next morning I had to check again, just to be certain it wasn’t all a dream. But the words were still there, still in the same order.
It’s one of those things writers dream about, but never expect to actually happen. When it does, when those dreams come true, shock sets in. It drains away slowly, but even six days later it doesn’t feel completely real.
Library Journal is one of the biggest publishing trade magazines in the US, aimed – as you’d guess – at libraries. It had given the book the kind of review I’d have killed to have, but I’d never expected more. Publishers Weekly had also raved about the book, and Kirkus and Booklist had both been very, very positive. The book has been better-received than I’d dared hope.
Since then I’ve been told by the publisher that Cold Cruel Winter has gone into a small second hardback printing. On January 1 it’ll be available globally as an ebook, and January 26 will see it out – in the UK, at least – as a trade paperback.
That’s the same day the follow-up, The Constant Lovers, appears. The official launch will come a week or so later at Leeds Central Library, and I’m flattered that they’ve agreed to host it. I’ve every reason to be grateful to Leeds Libraries, huge supporters of the books in the branches and reading groups. I’ve learned a great deal since The Broken Token appeared in 2010, and now I just want to make the most of that and write – and continue to learn – as much as possible.