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RALPH, ALBERT & SYDNEY Ralph McTell - The Journey (Leola) The Ferryman is, quite simply, a perfect song. It's also perfectly simple. McTell's soft baritone voice is at its smoothest, his guitar picking is almost harp-like, some subtle strings and backing vocals add atmosphere as the song builds, and the mysterious lyrics are based on Hermann Hesse (no wonder I was bowled over as a teenager). It all works together to create seven minutes of luminous beauty and if you haven't heard it, you should. The above-mentioned strings and chorus belonged to the London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, and it speaks volumes that they weren't allowed to turn the song into a schmaltz-fest. That was always one of the great things about Ralph McTell - while he could be sentimental, the simplicity of the presentation always kept him the right side of twee. (With the possible exception of Streets of London, but let's face it, we adored it at the time - and it's only because it got played so much that we now find it a bit of a cliché. The version here is earlier than the one that charted at No. 2). What people may have forgotten is that there was an awful lot more than
lovely songs. Lots of humour, hard-hitting blues, ragtime delights,
political comment. All showcasing his virtuoso guitar technique, and while
based in the folk tradition, broadening his appeal to anyone who likes a
good voice and great music. London
Evening Standard Ralph McTell : The Journey RALPH McTELL - But first I suppose I ought to admit that I'd never considered myself in the front-rank of Ralph McTell devotees who've loyally followed his progress through each successive album and tour. Although I'd almost always enjoyed what I'd heard of Ralph's music, and some individual songs had made quite a deep impression on me, generally it's fair to say that his music hadn't ever totally "engaged" me in the same way as the more obviously challenging music of many of his contemporaries like the innovative or iconoclastic adventurers of folk wyrd (the ISB) or folk tradition (Fairport) or rock (Zappa) - hey, just blame it on my musical tastes at the time! I'd not have thrown all other commitments aside to go and see Ralph live or make buying the latest Ralph album a top priority. Many music fans I know wrote Ralph off then (and still do) as merely lightweight and "safe", even complacently so, and have viewed his music less than charitably, as little more than a pleasant back-road ambling along parallel to the mainstream and enjoying similar views from its confines. So let's put the objectivity back in that assessment: the truth is that Ralph's music is easily accessible with readily definable crossover appeal - and there's nothing wrong with that, when it's of such high quality. His songwriting is characterised by compassion and a gentle humour; his music often sounds comforting and comfortable, mellow and melodious, consonant rather than discordant, unchallenging to the ear and neither unusual nor experimental - and capable of appealing even to your mother or your granny (so it was said, unduly disparagingly I felt). But complacent? - never! For as the author of the thought-provoking booklet essay (Paul O. Jenkins) observes: "While his finished product can temporarily satisfy him, a true artist never grows complacent." It's in more recent years that I've come to increasingly appreciate Ralph's stature as one of those "true artists" and to value the long-term consistency of his achievement. Even though his songs have always been there in the background of my life, and when returned to have always given satisfaction and pleasure - but having said that, as with many classic Beatles songs, I've sometimes found myself growing tired of hearing some Ralph McTell songs too much - which should not be taken as a criticism or comment on their quality, for they're well crafted almost to a fault. Ralph has readily won me over with his deep integrity and unassuming humility, and the specific features of his avuncular disposition (I hope he won't mind me saying that!) have been summed up neatly by Rory McGrath in the Foreword to the set's lavish accompanying 44-page booklet: "Although there is something universal about his words and music there is (also) something uniquely English. There is something touchingly everyday about the subjects of his songs. Little tragedies and little victories in little lives, all portrayed with sympathy, affection and humanity. And all of these qualities come across when you actually meet the man himself." Rory concludes: "one of the abiding mysteries about Ralph is how such a genuinely nice person has become so successful in the music industry". Quite! For Ralph's work is touching indeed, and this quality becomes more apparent the deeper you dig into his œuvre - something that this fine new celebratory box-set affords ample opportunity of so doing. It demonstrates Ralph's artistic consistency over 40 years, as well as charting and following through time the two primary strands of his musical output, the parallel idioms of troubadour songsmithery and bluesy raggy re-creations. (It's salutary to remember that the latter strand was responsible for introducing many UK listeners to the blues idiom, and though the smoothness of Ralph's vocals may have lacked something in grit there was ample recompense in his mature guitar picking.) And though every song of Ralph's has an element of autobiography therein, such is the universality with which his thoughts and experiences are expressed that you don't need to have detailed knowledge of Ralph's life to appreciate the songs or the life-affirming philosophy behind them. So now it's time to embark on the journey itself, through the four well-filled CDs. Unlike many of the celebratory box-sets previously issued, there seems to be no specifically thematic aspect to the presentation and, unusually too, no rationale for the sequence adopted on the discs is proffered in the booklet, although the running-order turns out to be straightforward in the sense that it's more or less strictly chronological. Disc 1 starts with the very earliest recordings in Ralph's output, three selections from a 1965 demo disc comprising a short ragtime guitar piece (Blind Blake's Drybone Shuffle) then two pretty decent covers (Bells Of Rhymney and Girl From The North Country), both showcasing Ralph's mellifluous voice and easy delivery as well as his even then considerably better than average guitar playing. The first and third of these demo pieces are reprised for comparison in different, later live versions on Discs 3 and 4 respectively: the Travelling Man (1998) version of Girl From The North Country (with missing verse restored), and a lengthier, breathtaking rendition of Drybone Shuffle from 1988. Ralph's jugband predilections are represented by a gleeful 1967 live rendition of Pasadena with Henry Bartlett's band and a fine live Viola Lee Blues from five years later with both Henry B and Wizz Jones in tow. There's a couple of tracks from Ralph's debut LP Eight Frames A Second (expectedly, Nanna's Song, then the wistful, tweely Donovanesque Mermaid And The Seagull), the title track from his second (Spiral Staircase), and two from My Side Of Your Window (Michael In The Garden, Factory Girl) follow in swift succession (any choice of representative tracks from these first three albums would always be a hard one!). And hearing Michael again this time round you'll doubtless find the booklet's critique of this intelligently crafted song extra-illuminating. The rarely-collected 1969 sunshine-pop-folk single Summer Come Along and an undated live Too Tight Rag serve to usher in the epic The Ferryman, a key song in Ralph's canon, which surprisingly is the only selection taken from his landmark 1971 You Well-Meaning Brought Me Here LP (although there's a live version of Birdman from that period to compensate). Ralph's first album for Warner Brothers, Not Till Tomorrow, is represented by arguably its most memorable song, the acutely wistful evocation Barges, and a gutsy alternate take of its lead track Zimmerman Blues featuring a fuller, blowsier arrangement than the album version. Disc 1 closes with the simple yet moving, essential and eternal, personal yet universal truths of Summer Lightning (from Easy) - a perfect example of Ralph's craft. Disc 2 begins promisingly if a tad predictably, leading off with the sensibly sparsely scored (just guitar, harmonica, bass) take of Streets Of London that had originally surfaced on the US edition of the You Well-Meaning ... LP. Three selections from the 1976 "lost Shel Talmy sessions" come next, including Tequila Sunset and a sensitive interpretation of Randy Newman's Marie. A spare alternative take of River Rising Moon High is followed by Weather The Storm (from 1976's Right Side Up), then a brace of tracks from 1979's Slide Away The Screen, where the arrangements still seem mildly overfacing. Then come the Disc 2 highlights, two previously unreleased 1980-vintage recordings made with John Renbourn: Clive Palmer's poignant A Leaf Must Fall and Jackson C. Frank's Blues Run The Game, both models of tenderness, intensity and delicacy in their delivery. The second of the two Disc 2 tracks to include Richard Thompson amongst Ralph's sidemen showcases RT in a typically stunning solo on Red Apple Juice (taken from a 1981 live performance with the GPs). 1982's erstwhile unreleased song Messrs Stevenson and Watt instances Ralph's keen interest in history. It's then good to find, straddling Discs 2 and 3, a couple of tracks taken from 1982's fine Water Of Dreams set, in the shape of the sublime protest of the title track and the celebrated fable of "local Croydon heroes" Bentley And Craig. Closing Disc 2 is a previously unreleased live recording of the "gentle but powerful indictment of Cold War mentality" Alexi. Continuing on our journey through Disc 3 we find Ralph's affecting tribute to another of his heroes, the Bahamian guitarist Joseph Spence (Hands Of Joseph), after which we get a sequence of songs written for "children's albums" that reveal Ralph's songwriting craft to be anything but child's play! After the mildly tiresome Kenny The Kangaroo there's Old Puggy Mearns (recorded only last year at Ralph's home), which is especially delectable in a Roald Dahl sort of way, after which it's good to hear again the fun I Like Rubbish (featuring Billy Connolly). Keeping The Night At Bay (another from the kids' collection Tickle On The Tum, this time a delightful lullaby) leads neatly onto one of Ralph's most famous, and intensely poetic, creations From Clare To Here, which is presented here in a 1991 live recording. Following this we get a sequence of blues-inspired cuts, taken from 1988's Blue Skies, Black Heroes, the 1990 compilation Stealin' Back and the 1994 charity collection Out On The Rolling Sea, interspersed with Ralph's wonderfully deft and jaunty Laurel-and-Hardy guitar piece That'll Do Babe (recorded live in 1994) and two selections from his infrequently-heard Dylan Thomas concept album The Boy With The Note. The beautiful, tradition-influenced Irish immigration ballad The Setting (taken from 1983's Bridge Of Sighs) and Ralph's percipient examination of faith Jesus Wept (from 1995's excellent Sand In Your Shoes) then close Disc 3 in fine style. Finally, Disc 4 carries on where Disc 3 left off, with Sand In Your Shoes' standout track Peppers And Tomatoes - just one of the songs that give the lie to those who've never considered Ralph capable of vicious, biting commentary. Then we're treated to a gorgeous little Cajun-style unreleased outtake from that very album, Rue De La Montaigne St Genevieve, before moving on to illustrate Ralph's winning way with a "standard" (Georgia On My Mind, taken from the 1997 charity compilation of the same name and penned by Hoagy Carmichael, against whose melody writing standards Ralph readily admitted his own had been set). The Travelling Man live take on Nanna's Song is included for comparison with the original 1968 studio take on Disc 1, before bringing things further up to date with two tracks from 2000's fine studio set Red Sky (and although I'd not necessarily have chosen Up, there's no doubting that Easter Lilies is a canny choice that displays the consistency of Ralph's writing over the years). The remainder of Disc 4 takes the chronology on up to the present day, beginning with two suitably relaxed 2001 live recordings of Let Me Down Easy and I'm Satisfied, and a representative track from the following year's National Treasure album. Three more previously unreleased live treasures follow, recorded variously between 2002 and 2004; these include the lovely Still In Dreams and the affectionate tribute to Derroll Adams, A Feather Fell. Then there's Michelle, which formed Ralph's contribution to last year's BBC Rubber Folk Beatles tribute project. The final disc closes with two recordings made only a short while ago: a considered cover of Don't Think Twice It's Alright and, to end with, a superlative rendition of Red And Gold (recorded specially for this box-set) that with its potent sense of history returns to one of Ralph's perennial themes, that man ultimately returns to the soil from which he sprang. That final track encapsulates everything that's so great about Ralph - the strength of his powerful yet understated writing, the simplicity of his expression, the warmth of his singing voice, the deft accomplishment of his guitar accompaniment, the melodiousness of his performing style and the intrinsic integrity of his whole personality. Having reached the end of the discs now, the four CDs have been a journey in the self-evident temporal sense, certainly (from 1965 to the present day), but also a journey through Ralph's fertile creative imagination. It's one which even the more casual admirer of Ralph's music would, I feel sure, on the strength of this well-constructed box-set be sorely tempted to retrace at an early opportunity, while also feeling sufficiently inspired to fill in some of the gaps in his/her collection. The omission of one or two songs which have become more than personal favourites for many (like The Hiring Fair and First And Last Man) is in the end a small price to pay for the discovery of many other less-well-known gems among Ralph's writing. As well as Paul O. Jenkins' uniformly intelligent 24-page critical
essay and Rory McGrath's aforementioned foreword, the booklet also
presents a short essay by John Renbourn exploring Ralph's relationship
with the guitar, and includes scattered over its pages a host of
well-reproduced and relevant photos attractively assembled; there's also a
discographical tracklisting (which, however, frustratingly omits recording
dates for some of the selections). One disadvantage with the main essay is
that although the individual songs/tracks are discussed perfectly credibly
within the body of the text, it's not always easy to locate at a glance
the reference to each one in isolation unless you've already become
familiar with the essay and its layout; this is a minor consideration
however, when the commentary is as informed and perceptive as this.
Finally, copious credit must go to the indefatigable David Suff who's
masterminded the project, for the box's very assemblage has evidently been
another supreme labour of love that while effectively celebrating Ralph's
long-term achievement also so very persuasively presents a strong case for
reassessing Ralph's music. Ralph McTell: The Journey
1965-2006 FOPP Record Store - Ralph
McTell The Journey People in marketing and advertising go on about king perception. That cruelly applies to Ralph McTell. When perception rests on one song out of the hundreds it can only be suspect. And it began with his first two albums; Eight frames A Second and Spiral Staircase were released in 1968. Their calling-cards - Manna's Song, Streets Of London and Spiral Staircase - served to freeze-frame his career in many minds. After the 'dizzy heights' of making the UK singles charts with Streets, a sizeable body of pop-pickers - short-term memory, ditto allegiances, etc - must have dropped by the wayside. Despite lodging in the youth wing of the British national consciousness with his children's television songs, the godsend/pack drill duality of Streets Or London remained. If I wasn't always assiduous at keeping pace with his recorded output, then that counted double with commissioning editors in the wider wacky world of music journalism. Pitches flopped. McTell had long moved on. They hadn't. We now have cause to move on. Longevity in career terms - and that is plainly what McTell's trajectory shows - can be a mixed blessing. Leaving aside the faithful, where do people hop on if they are beginning the ride? When did they hop off? The /oumeyfl-eola Music, Olabox 60) condenses one man's career into a 66-track summary in ways that make it the ideal place to resume or continue the ride. The Journey is helmed by David Suff. His previous marathon anthologies have shed considerable light on the British folk scene and the careers of Shirley Collins, Sandy Denny. June Tabor and The Watersons. If the gem-piled-upon-gem Journey reveals one fact, it is the extent to which McTell kept true to his original inspirations while going through transition after transition. Comments McTell drolly, "I've had a 40-year career. I say sometimes in spite of my recordings. I'm not at ease in the studio. 1 don't like recording studios. I don't enjoy recording and I don't particularly enjoy listening to my own records. But I enjoy the process of creating. I leave the 'studio bits' to other people." With customary flair. Suff has turned over stones in the McTell rock (or should that be folk?) pool to reveal all manner of wildlife bubbling away in the archival crevices. The discographically inclined will search in vain for the novelty whizz-bang pop of Granny Takes A Trip - it's on 2000's The Best Of by the way. The Journey's combination of music and text - notes courtesy of Paul Jenkins - delivers the wherewithal to make a balanced judgement of McTell's song craft, guitar prowess and career. And most tellingty, rt delivers plentiful insights into a career more likely to be in transition than resting on its royahy cheques. Act One begins with Ralph May, the Croydon hotshot in the guitar shadow of Wizz Jones and Davy Graham and the song shadow of Bob Dylan. By the time it reaches its terminus in 2006, it has charted and mapped his life experiences and personal turning-points of Paris, bohemian Cornwall and Putney. (Maps are supplied.) Along the ride he has become a first-rate observer of the fractured - and sometimes fractious-human condition. Sparing you exact statistics, a high proportion of tracks here bear the legend "previously unreleased", kicking off with a trio of 1965 studio cuts - Drybone Shuffle, Bells Of Rhymney and Girl From The North Country-and the pop hit Pasadena. What is so very revealing are the echoes of his inspirations, listening and reading habits. Dylan's Don't Think Twice and the jug band mainstay Stealin' cross-fade into the backporch swing of Ladies Love Outlaws and his tribute to Joseph Spence, Hands Of Joseph. The Mermaid And The Seagull is the best Wizz Jones original Wizz never wrote. Bentley And Craig bottles a similar outrage to Woody Guthrie's Sacco and, Vanzetti storytelling. Mike Piggott's violin and the Lickette-like female chorus on (HeyBabe)Would I Lie To You nod to Dan Hicks And His Hot Licks. The flute closing Michael In The Garden has a certain Traffic feel. Poetic influences surface in the upbeat Slip Shod Tap Room Dance from The Boy With A Note about the Welsh poet and admirer-of-the-glass Dylan Thomas while the spoken word recitation Old Puggy Mearns, shimmers with Dylan Thornas-meets-John-Masefield rhythmicality and turns of phrase. When it comes to McTell's children's songs and songs about children - from Alphabet Zoo and Tickle On The Turn'- his go off the graph from Edward Lear' to Woody Guthrie. 2006 has proved to be a very good year for reappraising people's careers through the affluent medium of the boxed set. The Journey, Billy Bragg's Volume I and Jake Thackray's Jake In A Box stand out. But The Journey gives you the chance to look deep into McTell's creative process and deep-set preconceptions and perception. For McTell though, everything boils down to "the belief that there
is a basic honesty in one man and a guitar if the subject matter is
right". Amen to that. RALPH
McTELL - The Journey
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