Tag: Until The Cradle Falls

One of the joys of this job(?!) is the chancing on an artist largely undiscovered, one of the legion of unsung bedroom studio troubadours who beaver away unceasingly. Paul Thompson is one such and, no, he isn’t the one from Roxy Music. Passing Places is actually his 7th album but don’t let that put you off; the time spent has clearly given him ample time to hone his craft. Think singer-songwriter, with a smooth and liquid honeyed voice, matching that aspect to surprisingly complex musical arrangements, involving guitar, dual keys, bass and drums, occasionally brass.  

These are often big sky, broad horizon songs, by and large; my notes see I have scribbled down Springsteen, but if sung by Nick Drake at his most fragile, with flickers even of Dougie Maclean also seeping by. He is East Anglian, from Norfolk, so I guess that sort of big sky/broad horizon view is a given. I don’t think they have, mind. passing places in the fens and flatlands, it a relief to learn the title of the album, and indeed the artwork, stems from the Isle of Mull, where they certainly do, an inspiration and metaphor, it seems, for this set. 

‘Keepers Of The Gate’ opens proceedings, built on an unhurried gentle clip clop of a beat, piano rippling under Thompson’s light vocal. An almost indecipherable hint of the song, ‘Caledonia’ is just under the radar, to capture that Maclean reference, slipping swiftly away as a swirling organ ushers in some muted brass. It is a grand start. Steve Fordington supplies the piano, with Tim Skinner on drums. Thompson provides the guitar, bass and organ. Uncertain on brass, unless these to come keyboard derived. 

That paired piano organ combo is back, present and correct, for the faltering catchiness of ‘Time To Rise’. I really like Fordington’s piano, which gives always the full Roy Bittan, possibly explaining my instant association into the bard of New Jersey, Thompson himself no mean Federici. For ‘Until The Cradle Falls, it is a more guitar and piano construct with what sounds like a string quartet bringing in the horizon. A lilting lullaby, the mood is remaining distinctly that of a long open road, without any annoying ETA, a ride to be savoured. 

A touch more nonchalance inhabits ‘Here To Stay’, as Thompson explores more his higher registers. The repeating piano motif draws as much attention to itself as does Thompson’s voice to the rest of the song. I can hear R.E.M. in this, at their most beautiful. I’m tempted to wonder how strong this set might be without Fordington, but won’t dwell on that point. 

The title track skips out brightly, to dispel that mood, a fizzy taste of 60’s folk psychedelic whimsy. The guitar part meanders between jangle and jingle, which is never a bad thing. A change of mood and gear, then, for the doomier warning of ‘She Frees the Dove’, picked guitar and cello, into which I can find a hint of one of those acoustic covers of ‘Dancing In The Dark’; this may be unfair, as I have no idea whether there is any such touchstone. 

We’re back to the early 6o’s for the narrow gauge bombast of ‘Another Place And Time’, with some marvellously twangy guitar to offset the feel of a Scott in this one. Whether it is Walker or Matthews is debatable, the mood of the former and the voice of the latter, which shouldn’t, anyway, spoil the careful construct of the song. I’m realising I haven’t touched much on the lyrics for this album. I’m guessing they all make sense and scan, etc, but it feels the sound is more important than the context. 

I liked ‘When The Clocks Went Back’, which has also the tang of 60’s pop, pre-Merseybeat. But, to match all the Anglocentrism of that, the vocals have a soary West Coast feel, not for the first time wondering how these songs might sound, were any of the Beach Boys available, the day in Norfolk this was laid down. ‘It’s Been too Long’ begs the question as to what, but it can’t be a comment on the length of the album, as this 9th track might be my favourite. With a generous wash of Farfisa organ soaking all over a very summery sound, end of summer, I guess, there are more hooks here than a Peter Pan audition. Splendid. 

Following that late highlight, inevitably comes a sense of winding down, for the very autumnal ‘Picture Box’, as strings and piano frame a now near falsetto Thompson. Which allows, and perhaps aptly, given I have felt summer, and then autumn, in the two preceding songs, ‘Winter Prayer’ to wrap things up. A starkly picked guitar sets the tone, voice and piano then providing the melody, which floats away pleasingly, bringing this intriguing album to bed. 

Intriguing? I think that the right word, as Thompson has performed a rare trick, bringing together disparate influences into a sound of his own, not least as his voice is so decidedly his own. It isn’t going to break down any great barriers or build any world conquering career, but as long as we have songsmiths like this, diligently attending to their craft, well, we have a future, frankly. And that’s good. Thanks, Mr. T. 

Seuras Og 

Artist’s website: www.paulsmusic.co.uk 

‘Until The Cradle Falls’ – live (in an orchard):