LAST NIGHT I MET THE DEVIL - James McCann (Bang! Records)
Know how it feels when you find something cool or valuable that was sitting under your nose all the time? Like when you pull a wad of long-forgotten, thought-lost banknotes from your washed jeans? I can correlate that with a recent live encounter with James McCann and the Dirty Skirts, the Melbourne band on a brief Sydney run. There was something vaguely familiar about the singer-guitarist/band leader in the farmer's hat. I knew he'd been an original member of bluesy angst merchants of the moment, the Drones, but the other pieces only came together weeks later...
James McCann had been part of late Sydney band the Lowdorados, whose demo is somewhere in the cupboard as I type and who were one of the better attractions on the lower rungs of the live ladder back in the mid '90s. The rest of his c.v. includes spells as the first singer for anarchic Hard Ons spin-off Nunchukka Superfly and as a part of Harpoon, a two-bass sonic attack (who I could take or leave.)
Anyway, back to that gig and the brief but scorching set of bluesy, country-tinged rock that McCann and Co put in was so compelling that I forked out for a copy of the this CD on the spot. Which is why you're reading a review.
I should have known. It was obvious. It's on Juan and Gorka's Spanish - sorry, Basque Country - label Bang! - which is fast becoming a home for Australian acts that might have slipped under the wire or gone out of print in their home country. The nine songs were recorded with ex-Lowdorados or Drones members in 2003-04 and most appeared on an album called "Where Was I Then?" on Shock. This version is the better (I picked that up recently). Here's the skinny:
James McCann plays saturated, thick guitar. The songs lilt or lurch, depending on their mood. Layers build simply, and tunes like "Black, Brown and Blue" grow almost imperceptibly, in this case on the back of unlikely partners like violin and distorted guitar.
McCann has a solid, soulful voice. I keep coming back to "Town's Full of Smoke" because of the way he drags the melody out of its depths in understated fashion- and then firmly but plaintively wrings its skinny neck as guitars stack on top of each other and the bassline arcs and falls.
I also come back to "Insight Is Gold" which is a little more obvious in its guise as straight-up rocker but no less effective.
McCann does Dylan on the lo-fi "Through the Night" and doesn't fall flat. That in itself says something. Even Bob does sometimes.
There's also a slide guitar song. Every album should have a slide song. Jim Selene does the honours on the chugging "Knowing Smile" and James even pulls off a part where he sings along and mimics the keening bottleneck sound.
"Heat Of The Belt" is stark and evocative like a mid-summer West Australian grain field and includes one of McCann's best vocals. You could call it a ballad, but be careful of stereotypes.
Did you ever hear a Neil Young album called "Arc"? It's a 35-minute tone poem of feedback, stitched together from live shows he did with Sonic Youth, around the time of the Gulf War. It works on one level but you wouldn't listen to it constantly without the aid of something derived from chemicals.
This album's closer suggests something similar but also sounds more edgy and less contrived. At nearly 23 minutes long, "She's Intermediate/Hoodoo Joe" might test the endurance of most sane people, but primal scream fans (the music - not the band) will hang in there, and be rewarded. Deconstructed but still musical on an elemental level, this piece renders the growled, yelped vocals almost superfluous, it groans under its own bodyweight before free-falling into thin air. Self-indulgent for sure but also weirdly cleansing.
I envy Melbourne people for their nightlife more than their weather, and because they can see people like James McCann live, every other week.
–
The Barman
3/4
