WORDS Michael Lanigan
Recently Mumford and Sons proudly announced their interest in trying their hand at rapping on their next effort (the word “effort” cannot be stressed enough), and all those who heralded them as the darlings of a British folk revival realised that they may have unleashed something truly heinous. In light of this it’s high time that another folk band with self-awareness takes up Mumford’s soiled mantle. After hearing Tales from Terra Firma, the world may now swivel their necks towards Stornoway. The band have, on this latest self-produced collection, blossomed from an indie folk outfit into musical voyagers, capturing the atmosphere of peripheral Britain, its seaside towns and countrysides, and the spirit of a fading heritage.
The whole album is an adventurous narrative, accompanied by restlessly shifting soundscapes carrying the eloquence of Brian Briggs’ lyrical observations. Reminiscent of The Divine Comedy, there is little in the way of youthful sulkiness, just spectacular, eclectic instrumentation and the cheerful eccentricity of a quintessentially English album. Opening with bright organs and upbeat Neil Hannon-y horn arrangements, You Take Me As I Am slightly mirrors the Wallace and Gromit soundtrack. This is indicative of the many oddities embraced in the songwriting, as the band rapidly evolves with each passing moment. (A Belated) Invite is perhaps one of the earliest shining virtues. With dreamy Jeff Buckley guitars and gentle drumbeats ebbing and flowing, it unexpectedly morphs into an Arcade Fire Funeral-era romp of Owen Pallet-style strings, a triumphant bulwark of sound.
By far the most intriguing aspect of Stornoway’s instrumentation is the use of a hammered dulcimer. This is something few western bands can insert effectively (besides Dead Can Dance) without simply bashing out directionless, indulgent doodles. It gives the album a slightly Buddhist ambience. Adding to the dulcimer’s spice, they weave Theremin-esque whistles which sound like the X-Files theme in reverse, before Kinksy cider-drenched hooks resurface and drag you back to the British Isles. Lead single Knock Me on the Head is a prime example of this blend, with the schizophrenia of MGMT’s It’s Working as performed by Fionn Regan. The chorus bounces with more old-fashioned organ melodies, bellowing Wallace and Gromit in the best way possible.
THE WHOLE ALBUM IS AN ADVENTUROUS NARRATIVE, ACCOMPANIED BY RESTLESSLY SHIFTING SOUNDSCAPES CARRYING THE ELOQUENCE OF BRIAN BRIGGS’ LYRICAL OBSERVATIONS
The album’s highlight arrives with The Great Procrastinator. The song has an almost traditionally-arranged air of familiarity to it, mixed with a timeless blend of jazzy New Orleans woodwinds. It builds upon a single idea, adding voluminous bulk bit by bit before culminating in a passionate kitchen sink march. If this is not sung in rural pubs 20 years from now, I will be knocked for six. It could be straight out of Look Back in Anger, or off an old 78-RPM such as Put Your Worries through the Mangle. This is cheesy at times, but stunningly moving.
Closing with Simon and Garfunkel moments, and Irish folk music sung by a young Rivers Cuomo, Terra Firma fades quietly and modestly into bliss. There is virtually nothing close to flabby filler; it is a pleasure to play both as a whole and in selection. Like another former Oxford student, Philip Larkin, Briggs and Jonathan Ouin have tapped into the heart of Britain’s mundane mysteries. Both simple and experimental, Tales from Terra Firma is a widely accessible nugget waiting to be stumbled upon.
