Places We Neglect

In a piece I wrote for the _Boar_ last November, I claimed that Lewis Garland & The Kett Rebellion were “among the brightest, cleverest and most talented musicians on the folk scene today”. I said that their live act was “pretty much, as good as it gets”, and that when their debut album arrived it would “doubtless be hailed as a masterpiece”. Now I am sitting here wondering how many of my words I shall be forced to eat.

Places We Neglect is finally here, the band’s first attempt to record the music which has been lighting up venues as far afield as the Warwick Arts Centre and Glastonbury. It’s been a long time coming, what with the sheer number of dates the band play and Lewis’ various throat problems. But the wait is finally over, thank God, and now it’s down to me to tell you what it’s like.

‘Run To Ground’ kicks things off, and finds Lewis laying into the champagne anarchists and liberal hypocrites that form the fashionable elite. He strings together a series of rhyming aphorisms without any loss of meaning or power; and all the while you are aware of two features of the band that serve them well throughout. First is their obvious talent, and balls, in choosing to break free from the usual three-chord drudgery. But second is their humbling self-deprecation; they’re serious about their music, but not too serious, and on the closer, ‘Moi’, Lewis is the first to own up to his ‘arty’ imperfections.

Having shown they can do politics, the band turn to romance. ‘Is This War?’ finds a man and a woman so different that they cannot possibly coexist – and yet they still shiver and still sin, and end up sleeping on the floor. This lacks Drew Coleman’s weeping concertina, but the violins compensate well enough. ‘Blackboards And Fingernails’, meanwhile, is a caustic tirade, underscored by the ambiguous refrain that evil is only a letter from love. While Lewis takes the lead, snarling and scowling the verses, Bradley Blackwell anchors things on double bass, which gently thunders through the piece to counterpoint the humour.

‘Life Drawing’ and ‘Ball And Chain’ are central tracks, both in their ordering and in their demonstration of the band’s dual fortes. The former is a beautiful love song, with Coleman finally picking up his concertina. He underscores Lewis’ finger-picking with a series of minor chords that make the chorus swell like a sighing lover. The latter is a tantalising take-off of medieval madrigals. The lyrics poke fun at those who blame their problems on ‘society’ or religion, making it a very timely protest song. The band are tighter than elsewhere, and you cannot help but tap your foot faster and faster as the momentum builds.

‘Patchwork Quilts’ is an interesting track, being the most lavishly produced. It’s not overdone, but the guitar sounds richer and the whole thing has a shoegaze feel to it. The band also sound more childlike; as they play you begin to imagine flowing streams and shapes in the clouds. Lyrically, and musically, it manages to steer just clear of the Jack Johnson cliché, ending up as a very interesting departure from the current sound.

There are a few duds we must touch on for the sake of balance. ‘Long Way Down’ is more sparsely written, and coming off the back of ‘Roots’ it feels lazy and rushed. ‘Art’ falls into the self-referential pit without offering much in the way of irony to haul itself out again. And while ‘Someday’ is not in itself an appalling track, the bare production does Lewis little justice, making him sound like just another guy with a guitar.

But these are not enough to put me off. This album was never going to be perfect, because it’s not recorded in the band’s natural (live) habitat. The energy is lower, but crucially enough quality remains, in both the song-writing and musicianship, to make this an essential album of 2009. It’s everything The Kett Rebellion can be at their best: witty, self-deprecating, charming and above all clever. And while the live act is still their lifeblood, that’s no excuse to pass on this slice of brilliance.