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.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, 22 October 2011
Story Chain
My friend and fellow-writer Denyse Kirkby has had a touch inspiration. Her story chain – well, two story chains, really, one adult, one young adult, is an idea to build a global story where everyone can contribute.
I think it’s beautiful, and I urge everyone to take part.
Adult Story Chain
Young Adult Story Chain
I'll be popping over there later...please pass the word about it.
I think it’s beautiful, and I urge everyone to take part.
Adult Story Chain
Young Adult Story Chain
I'll be popping over there later...please pass the word about it.
Monday, 17 October 2011
Girl Singer
Girl Singer
Tell Her What She’s Won
It’s 15 long years since singer Carolyn Wennblom released her only album, Bees to the Honey, one of the most underrated delights to emerge from Seattle in the ‘90s. But now there’s a chance to rejoice as she’s back, this time as part of the band Girl Singer. And make no mistake, this really is a band, not a vehicle for her. The four-piece, which includes two members of the Walkabouts (and, interestingly the song Injury Wants An Encore sounds like it could have been taken from the Walks’ songbook), is a tight, thoughtful unit, which suits the moody, enigmatic material. Wennblom’s voice has taken on more of a velvet quality with time, but still wonderfully elusive, and the other players (plus a few guests) give the ideal framing for each one, whether it’s the soft drive that propels Start It All Over or the drone of the opener, Coming Around. It’s an album born of maturity, the emotions and situations never clear-cut, the emotions in shades of grey rather than black and white, the music considered. It is what it is, with no compromises for commerciality, but always deliciously listenable, and worth hearing again and again. The production, too, is beautifully realised, smooth without being slick, and great attention to details in the sound. The thing to hope for is that it’s not a decade and a half until we hear from them on disc again. One of 2011’s superb discs.
Tell Her What She’s Won
It’s 15 long years since singer Carolyn Wennblom released her only album, Bees to the Honey, one of the most underrated delights to emerge from Seattle in the ‘90s. But now there’s a chance to rejoice as she’s back, this time as part of the band Girl Singer. And make no mistake, this really is a band, not a vehicle for her. The four-piece, which includes two members of the Walkabouts (and, interestingly the song Injury Wants An Encore sounds like it could have been taken from the Walks’ songbook), is a tight, thoughtful unit, which suits the moody, enigmatic material. Wennblom’s voice has taken on more of a velvet quality with time, but still wonderfully elusive, and the other players (plus a few guests) give the ideal framing for each one, whether it’s the soft drive that propels Start It All Over or the drone of the opener, Coming Around. It’s an album born of maturity, the emotions and situations never clear-cut, the emotions in shades of grey rather than black and white, the music considered. It is what it is, with no compromises for commerciality, but always deliciously listenable, and worth hearing again and again. The production, too, is beautifully realised, smooth without being slick, and great attention to details in the sound. The thing to hope for is that it’s not a decade and a half until we hear from them on disc again. One of 2011’s superb discs.
Saturday, 8 October 2011
I've been remiss - forgive me
It’s been a while – far too long, really, since I posted on this blog. But that’s what happens when life intervenes and the need to make a living takes over.
But, for the novelist side of me, the last couple of weeks have been very interesting. The first reviews of Cold Cruel Winter have appeared in the US, and I’m quite staggered at how positive they’ve been. So far Publishers Weekly, Booklist and Kirkus Reviews had published them, the first a starred review that called the book “superb” while the other two were effusive in their praise. To complete the set, there’s one due from Library Journal at the start of November, and I’ve been told that, too, will be a starred review. So all the trade journals seem to like it, which is a very positive thing as I wait to hear whether the publisher wants to offer a contract for the fourth in the series.
While waiting with crossed fingers for that, I’ve been sent the cover for the third book in the Leeds series, The Constant Lovers, which will be out (in the UK at least) in hardback next January, the same time Cold Cruel Winter appears in trade paperback. In colour this time, and the moody shot of Kirkstall Abbey is lovely.
As if all that didn’t make for a basket full of joy, people have begun paying me for appearances, which has come as a shock, albeit a gratifying one. But the biggest and most exciting news on the appearance front is the duo – of sorts – with storyteller and musician Simon Heywood. It will receive its first outing at the end of November at Slaithwaite Civic Hall. The evening will be a mix of conversation, some readings from my books, some storytelling – from both of us – and some music that features in the books – mostly from Simon. We’ll be videoing the evening, and putting any worthwhile clips on YouTube. If it works the way we hope, then we’ll be touting it around to literary festival organisers (and anyone else who’ll have us).
But, for the novelist side of me, the last couple of weeks have been very interesting. The first reviews of Cold Cruel Winter have appeared in the US, and I’m quite staggered at how positive they’ve been. So far Publishers Weekly, Booklist and Kirkus Reviews had published them, the first a starred review that called the book “superb” while the other two were effusive in their praise. To complete the set, there’s one due from Library Journal at the start of November, and I’ve been told that, too, will be a starred review. So all the trade journals seem to like it, which is a very positive thing as I wait to hear whether the publisher wants to offer a contract for the fourth in the series.
While waiting with crossed fingers for that, I’ve been sent the cover for the third book in the Leeds series, The Constant Lovers, which will be out (in the UK at least) in hardback next January, the same time Cold Cruel Winter appears in trade paperback. In colour this time, and the moody shot of Kirkstall Abbey is lovely.
As if all that didn’t make for a basket full of joy, people have begun paying me for appearances, which has come as a shock, albeit a gratifying one. But the biggest and most exciting news on the appearance front is the duo – of sorts – with storyteller and musician Simon Heywood. It will receive its first outing at the end of November at Slaithwaite Civic Hall. The evening will be a mix of conversation, some readings from my books, some storytelling – from both of us – and some music that features in the books – mostly from Simon. We’ll be videoing the evening, and putting any worthwhile clips on YouTube. If it works the way we hope, then we’ll be touting it around to literary festival organisers (and anyone else who’ll have us).
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Another Book Finished
The fourth book in the Richard Nottingham series, Come The Fear, is now finished and with the publisher, so it’s breath-holding time as I wait to see if they like it. It’s always a good feeling to complete something, especially when I feel good about it (and I certainly do with this one).
Equally interesting, at least to me, is the process that went into it. When I wrote The Broken Token, I more or less blundered my way through it. I had a story I wanted to tell, but equally, I wanted to evoke the Leeds of the 1730s, in feel if not always absolutely historically accurate; my idea was that if a reader emerged thinking they’d experienced the period, I was successful, and it seems many did. I had my characters, and that was about it. I hadn’t even considered it in terms of a series.
But a series it’s become, and I’d like to think my professionalism as a writer has increased with each book. A series is an odd duck. Characters recur. Some leave, some die, new ones enter, but there must be development, and character has always been a central facet. I’ve come to love Richard Nottingham and those around him. When someone important leaves or dies, I actually grieve a little. I feel I know these people intimately, and their lives expand (or contract) as the books develop.
There’s more planning these days. I still essentially have just a starting point and an ending, and the characters dictate what happens, as if I’m watching a movie, but I’ve come to take on the role of director a little more. I sketch out ideas, which may or may not be used, and I approach each book with a much stronger idea of the focus (For Come The Fear that’s very much the poor and dispossessed, even more than in previous books) and how I want to approach it.
These books have their own tone, often poetic among the dirt and debris and an 18th century city, and I’m not even sure how that came about, but it’s part of the book’s landscape, and something I actively consider as I’m writer. I make note of phrases, which either come to me or are inspired by reading others, and these will be inserted, often during the revision phase.
So, publisher willing, Richard Nottingham will be back (book three is due out early 2012). Meanwhile, I’m working on a couple of other projects, a mystery set in the Seattle music scene of the late 1980s (I spent 20 years in the city, quite a few of them making my living writing about music’; for once I’m writing what I know!) and another mystery, a Leeds setting again, but during the Civil War, in 1645. Quite a while ago I knew I wanted to write novels that covered the history of Leeds, and this is the first step outside my comfort zone, so we’ll see how it pans out…
Equally interesting, at least to me, is the process that went into it. When I wrote The Broken Token, I more or less blundered my way through it. I had a story I wanted to tell, but equally, I wanted to evoke the Leeds of the 1730s, in feel if not always absolutely historically accurate; my idea was that if a reader emerged thinking they’d experienced the period, I was successful, and it seems many did. I had my characters, and that was about it. I hadn’t even considered it in terms of a series.
But a series it’s become, and I’d like to think my professionalism as a writer has increased with each book. A series is an odd duck. Characters recur. Some leave, some die, new ones enter, but there must be development, and character has always been a central facet. I’ve come to love Richard Nottingham and those around him. When someone important leaves or dies, I actually grieve a little. I feel I know these people intimately, and their lives expand (or contract) as the books develop.
There’s more planning these days. I still essentially have just a starting point and an ending, and the characters dictate what happens, as if I’m watching a movie, but I’ve come to take on the role of director a little more. I sketch out ideas, which may or may not be used, and I approach each book with a much stronger idea of the focus (For Come The Fear that’s very much the poor and dispossessed, even more than in previous books) and how I want to approach it.
These books have their own tone, often poetic among the dirt and debris and an 18th century city, and I’m not even sure how that came about, but it’s part of the book’s landscape, and something I actively consider as I’m writer. I make note of phrases, which either come to me or are inspired by reading others, and these will be inserted, often during the revision phase.
So, publisher willing, Richard Nottingham will be back (book three is due out early 2012). Meanwhile, I’m working on a couple of other projects, a mystery set in the Seattle music scene of the late 1980s (I spent 20 years in the city, quite a few of them making my living writing about music’; for once I’m writing what I know!) and another mystery, a Leeds setting again, but during the Civil War, in 1645. Quite a while ago I knew I wanted to write novels that covered the history of Leeds, and this is the first step outside my comfort zone, so we’ll see how it pans out…
Saturday, 6 August 2011
Beginner's Guide to Scandinavia
Various Artists
Beginner’s Guide to Scandinavia
Nascente NSBOX079
This 3-CD budget collection really does make a very fair introduction to modern Scandinavian music – that’s Scandinavian in the inclusive sense, adding in Iceland, Finland, Greenland and the Faroe Isles. Each of the discs has a theme – Pop & Contemporary, Folk & Roots, and Jazz, Experimental & Atmospheres, but the borders between them are very fluid – Valrav could easily be in folk rather than pop, for instance, while Kimmo Phojonen might just as easily have fitted in Experimental. The pop disc is nowhere near as fluffy and vapid as it could have been, with Lars Demian sounding Serge Gainbourg weary on “Alkohol” and Cornelis Vresswijk channelling inspiration from Jacques Brel on “Samba For Pomperipossa.” There’s no Robyn, sadly, one of the best pop stars to come from the region, but there is the sweet acoustic indie sensibility of Pascal Pinon, the folktronica of Valravn and Pohjone’s barely contained strangeness.
The folk disc does offerme moderately well-known names – Värttinä, Maria Kalaniemi, Annbjørg Lien and a couple of others, But it does also shine a spotlight on others, such as Eivor, who deserve more fame for their adventurous work, as well as Morild, Hedningarna and BOOT. It goes some way to showing the range of Nordic folk music being produced, and the fact that roots music has enjoyed a real resurgence is some of the countries thanks to university degree programmes (Finland and Denmark), while other countries, like Norway and Iceland, are still lagging behind in delving into their folk traditions, at least on a more global stage.
But its disc three that holds the greatest adventures, the music that tends to defy easy definition. From Benny Anderssons Orkester (yes, the former ABBA man) to the joiking of Wimme and Mari Boine, it’s a lesson in possibilities. Nordic jazz has long show a different, more abstract, sensibility than its American counterpart, and you can hear that in the piece by Karl Seglem, where sax mixes in new, ornate ways with folk music (Gjermud Larsen draws from folk in similar ways, too), or the excerpt from the beautiful, breathless “Judas Bolero” from Lars Danielsson or the voice and ice instruments used by Terje Isungset. It’s perhaps apt to end with a pair of Samí tracks, a people whose nomadic ways have taken them across many of the Nordic countries. Both Mari Boine and Wimme have been relentlessly experimental, and the tracks here highlight that, as well as the innate beauty of the joik. Put all together, it’s a fascinating primer on Nordic music, one that stays clear of the main highways and focuses on the smaller, less-driven roads – but the scenery there is always more interesting.
Beginner’s Guide to Scandinavia
Nascente NSBOX079
This 3-CD budget collection really does make a very fair introduction to modern Scandinavian music – that’s Scandinavian in the inclusive sense, adding in Iceland, Finland, Greenland and the Faroe Isles. Each of the discs has a theme – Pop & Contemporary, Folk & Roots, and Jazz, Experimental & Atmospheres, but the borders between them are very fluid – Valrav could easily be in folk rather than pop, for instance, while Kimmo Phojonen might just as easily have fitted in Experimental. The pop disc is nowhere near as fluffy and vapid as it could have been, with Lars Demian sounding Serge Gainbourg weary on “Alkohol” and Cornelis Vresswijk channelling inspiration from Jacques Brel on “Samba For Pomperipossa.” There’s no Robyn, sadly, one of the best pop stars to come from the region, but there is the sweet acoustic indie sensibility of Pascal Pinon, the folktronica of Valravn and Pohjone’s barely contained strangeness.
The folk disc does offerme moderately well-known names – Värttinä, Maria Kalaniemi, Annbjørg Lien and a couple of others, But it does also shine a spotlight on others, such as Eivor, who deserve more fame for their adventurous work, as well as Morild, Hedningarna and BOOT. It goes some way to showing the range of Nordic folk music being produced, and the fact that roots music has enjoyed a real resurgence is some of the countries thanks to university degree programmes (Finland and Denmark), while other countries, like Norway and Iceland, are still lagging behind in delving into their folk traditions, at least on a more global stage.
But its disc three that holds the greatest adventures, the music that tends to defy easy definition. From Benny Anderssons Orkester (yes, the former ABBA man) to the joiking of Wimme and Mari Boine, it’s a lesson in possibilities. Nordic jazz has long show a different, more abstract, sensibility than its American counterpart, and you can hear that in the piece by Karl Seglem, where sax mixes in new, ornate ways with folk music (Gjermud Larsen draws from folk in similar ways, too), or the excerpt from the beautiful, breathless “Judas Bolero” from Lars Danielsson or the voice and ice instruments used by Terje Isungset. It’s perhaps apt to end with a pair of Samí tracks, a people whose nomadic ways have taken them across many of the Nordic countries. Both Mari Boine and Wimme have been relentlessly experimental, and the tracks here highlight that, as well as the innate beauty of the joik. Put all together, it’s a fascinating primer on Nordic music, one that stays clear of the main highways and focuses on the smaller, less-driven roads – but the scenery there is always more interesting.
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