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Jackie Leven is the closest the UK is ever
likely to get to Johnny Cash, and if you
haven't fallen prey to his charms yet, it's about time
you did. He's the sound of dark folk clubs, the final
measure of whiskey in the bottom of the bottle as the
door closes on the last vestige of hope.
He might not be an oil painting, but his career
has left a trail of under-appreciated, under-rated
gems, from Celt punks Doll By Doll, through a
vicious street attack that nearly left him unable to
speak, to heroin addiction, to a solo career that has
been ludicrously prolific even without the many
additional fan club-only releases.
There are no surprises on Lovers At The Gun Club,
Leven's 14th official solo studio release, but when
you've got a following as loyal as his, there's no
reason for any. He's found his formula and what he
does (dark, gravely, dirty folk) he does very, very
well.
Recorded in Snowdonia rather than his native
Scotland, this would be a fabulous album to listen to
in the wilderness of any country. Vocals on the title
track are sung by his 'absinthe-drinking pal' Johnny
O'Dowd, who also helps out on Dent In The Fender And
The Wheel Of Fate; Leven describes the opening song as
'a psychosexual voodoo redneck tale' - a description
that would carry well over the whole album.
What follows is truly beautiful collection of
songs, with Dent In The Fender... sparkling even
brighter than normal amid the rough diamonds. Languid
and dark, suffused with midnight weariness but
impossible to ignore, it's the type of music that
might fool you into thinking it can be put on in the
background but, once it's there, will grab your
attention and refuse to let go.
Tracks such as My Old Home should be all you need
in life, if you've got any soul at all, while the
delicate fragility of Woman In A Car defies anyone not
to fall in love with it.
Long since freed from the need to make music for
anyone other than himself and the loyal band of
followers who want exactly what he's peddling, Leven
is free to indulge himself in such personal projects
as To Whom It May Concern, a setting to music of the
words of the late American beat poet Kenneth Patchen.
He then hands the final track of the album over to
another friend, David Childers, as a sampler of
Childers' own album, Called Or Not Called, The Gods
Are Present.
All in all, the themes of Lovers At The Gun Club
seem overtly American at times, swimming with US folk
influences from the style of the music to the themes
of the songs, despite references to such unmistakeable
Britishness as Somerfield carrier bags and Sunderland
fans. This enhances rather than diminishes it, though,
enabling Lovers At The Gun Club to be held up and
measured against the hardest, roughest-edged folk
blues and heartfelt alt.folk you can name. Don't
worry: it more than holds its own.
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