Welcome all to šš¼š»š»š¼š¹š¹šāš šš¼šæš»š²šæ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ššš¬ š¼š§š©ššØš© šš„š¤š©š”šššš© playlists.
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Charles keeps it in the familyā¦
In a world of constant change, this time of year is one of standing still. I mean, we are probably frantically moving around like lunatics more so than any other time of year, but the time itself is pretty much unchanging. It is a time of tradition, and a time of family. A time of doing what we do, and in a way that we know how to do it. āItās what weāve always doneā, springs to mind. Which is a far cry from every other side of life these days. Everything seems unknown now. The future looks more unknown than ever before. And so, December brings a vital grounding; a bond with our past. It truly is a festive month. Easter is a nice meal and a brief few hours of relaxation and chocolate stuffing, but Christmas is far more than just one day. December is a dark month full of light. Or full of LIGHTS, I should say. They twinkle in that fond way. The way they always used to twinkle. Even those blinding cold white LED lights of a few years ago have been replaced with a warmer hue; something that evokes the festive times we remember. Basically, as the modern world keeps getting more modern, there is kickback. We donāt all want it. And as those āgood old daysā seep from Technicolor into sepia, we crave it more. We want that feeling of āItās what weāve always doneā.
On Sunday evening, I went to a carol concert (of sorts). This was more out of support (or so I had thought). Every year I do this, because my aunt (not my aunt) sings in that very choir. It is an occasion that brings together the whole family (most of them, anyway), along with another couple of hundred well-behaved strangers. Letās just say itās a very middle-class affair – in a good way. There are no tickets, and entry is free. How often is this the case these daysā¦? You just simply arrive and smile as you enter. Every year the concert is good. It is enjoyable. It is jolly. But we mainly go to this thing out of support. However, this time the show was stupendous! The choir was on absolute top form, and it was accompanied by a most brilliant brass band. Wondrous! I had tingles from the very first tune – probably because these were mostly modern arrangements of classics, so the harmonies were that much more interesting. Donāt worry, they werenāt Steve Reich kind of modern. Why do I bore you with all this? Well, because youāre all musicians! Or most of you, anyway. This kinda stuff should interest you. Anyway, after the vital bladder-draining directly after the show, we would usually have a glass of wine āor soā – yes, there was a bar in the church (modern times or WHAT!) – but instead, we all went back to my cousinās for a drink. Because really, THIS is what itās all about. No no, not the booze. The FAMILY!
Whenever I am around this bunch of unusuals (my family), I know I am in safe hands. I listen, observe, care and warm to it all. It is all so present. And yet it is all formed from the past. A past that has seen oldies depart and youngies flourish (thatās one word, anyway). What was the middle generation is now the older generation. I was once the younger generation, but am now right in the middle. Neither an oldie nor a youngie. Which suits me fine. But I have vivid memories of when things were different. The same but different. I used to be a small oaf smiling politely while not understanding the older peopleās jokes. Now, Iām a small oaf cracking jokes that no one understands. My, how the turntables. I still smile politely. And do you know how I know Iām in the middleā¦? I caught myself saying āMY, how youāve grownā to one of the lanky buggers stooping so as not to bash their head on the ceiling. Heās probably about 11. āMy, how youāve grownā is a decidedly old-person thing to say. Whoops! My point, though, is family. I only meet this mob once or twice a year. Every year we always threaten to make it more frequent, and every year we fail in doing so. Itās tradition! But in being just those one or two times, it somehow makes it all the more special. Thereās stuff to talk about. It is an occasion rather than a casual gathering. But part of me wishes to break this tradition and make it more frequent. Maybe next yearā¦ He says.
Unfortunately, all my grandparents, great aunts and great uncles are long gone. But I remember them with such fondness. I also remember being angry when they departed. As if they had chosen to leaveā¦! Look, I was young and foolish. Now Iām middle-aged and foolish. The thing is, the last of that generation went around 15 or 20 years ago. I didnāt know them well enough. The older I get, the more I want to sink back into that screenless past and enjoy their presence. Not in any formal capacity. Not like an interview or a āWhat did you wish to speak to me about?ā kinda thang. But just to chat. To know their manner, their personality, and what makes them tick. I want to bask in the comfort of their slow consideration. Their warm smile that pauses the clock. I never really had any of that. Or rather, I was too idiotically young to appreciate it. I feel that being idiotically middle-aged lends something else. I am less selfish. I care more for others than I do for myself. While many might wish to gain knowledge, I wish to gain feeling. Feelings which can only be conveyed by an older, wiser person. I live for feeling. Thatās why I love art. Thatās why I am an artist. Knowledge is good, but nothing compares to the heart.
Thankfully, one lady was not too late to do what I couldnāt. This lady chose not to release a Christmas song, but to instead release a song that embodies everything about Christmas. The subject is humble, simple, and beautiful. Please welcome a renowned member of the New Artist Spotlight family, Emily Gray, with her brand new release, āGrandadās Songā. I think we all know Emily well enough to know that she is so totally honest, upbeat, and genuine. She is a hippo at heart. Sorry: a hippy. She believes in peace, love and joy. And honestly, is there a better way to be? I think not. But itās not an easy way to be. Not these days, certainly. There is too much bitterness and resentment. Too many wars. Too much battling about inconsequential nonsense. Too much politics. Too much sadness. And too much competition. Lord knows, I am TRYING to be more like Emily, but – like I said – it aināt easy. I think the way she does it is by observing all the bad and trying her damnedest to switch it all around. Rather than being consumed by lowness, she brings herself up and out of the whole saga that is life. I suppose in a way, it is BECAUSE of all the surrounding badness that she is such a good person. It pushes her to be a better person. Thereās all the more reason. Most of the American hippies of the 60s would probably not have been hippies had it not been for Vietnam. THIS is our Vietnam. Iām not a fan of violent protesters (whose opinion is the only opinion), but I AM a fan of peace loving joy-spreaders. Thatās Emily Gray.
Sheās not writing about awfulness in a sarcastic manner – thatās my job. Sheās not writing about love in a plastic way. Sheās not writing about sex in a latex way. Sheās writing about what she knows best. Family. HER family. Or more specifically, her grandfather. But I know what youāre thinking: āhereās another oldie whoās bitten the dust, and here we are with another song of loss, where its meaning can only really be felt and understood by its writer and a smattering of others. I know, I know – they just had to put it out thereāā¦ Well yesā¦ Except youāre wrong. This is a song for her grandfather to hear. He is still among us! She didnāt wait until the inevitable, to say āI love youā. We usually wait. These old legends canāt hear it when theyāre gone. There MIGHT be an afterlife, but are you willing to take that riskā¦? Emily wasnāt. Soā¦ Why make something so sad as āGrandadās Songāā¦? Well hereās the thing: itās not sad. Not in the slightest. Only the opening music might be considered sad. I would personally call it melancholic. Itās pensive. The only thing that might lead it towards sadness is perhaps her awareness that this beauty is not forever. It is only forever in our memories. Life goes on, until it doesnāt. Emily has created a perfect memory that will live with her forever, inducing more memories for other passing listeners. Shall I tell you about the simplistic narrative relayed by our very own folk queen? Itās nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, ordinary is exactly at the heart of this beautiful tune.
It covers just one day. Emily and her grandfather, together, alone. They chat. They listen to one another. They drink tea together. They drink beer together. But thatās only the beginningā¦ Oh wait, no, thatās all. And thatās all thatās needed. Thatās the point. The simplicity. The family. The closeness. The nothing of it is the everything of it. Itās warm. Itās cosy. Itās Emily being Emily at her most peaceful. And folk music lends itself so perfectly to this sentiment. Drums are not needed. Bass is not needed. Synths are not needed. Because everything thatās needed is already here. Less is not more, but simply a sufficiency. So, how then does Emily manage to not make this song boring as hellā¦? In many ways, I would have said. Firstly, by softly plucking her guitar in meditative rounds. Secondly by cooling off her voice from beginning to end. Maybe ācooling offā isnāt the best way to describe her voice, because itās very warm indeed. And speaking of sound, I think this is my favourite mix of any Emily Gray song, thanks to Tim Davies (of Map of Autumn fame) as sound engineer. But more about that voice. She doesnāt start soft, sad and fragile, then lead into her famously defiant ārousing the troopsā voice. Instead, she starts satisfied, and ends satisfied. There are still trills, there is still vibrato, there is still passion, but it is all very respectful and understated. Probably because her grandfather is watching. Or listening with closed eyes and a smile, sitting back in his comfy chair; a singular tear runs down his cheek. Not from sadness, but from pride. Ach, now Iām all teary-eyed. Look, itās that time of year. Emotional. Jesus, why on Earth am I affected like this??
Sorry, I had to take a moment to gaze out of my window at the distant view, while listening. Itās getting dark now, but I feel the beauty. I just saw a red kite! Lovely, arenāt they. I think I get why I am SO affected. Aside from the songās sentiment, itās the other major element that makes this song so magical and emotive. That major element being something I havenāt yet mentioned. A fellow called Scott Shaw. Many of you know him already. Some will know him as one half of the hosts of our weekly ‘Liner Notes’ show, as part of the NAS Top 20 show. Others will know him for his own cinematic classical music. And the rest of you will know him as our resident āNAS violinist for hireā! Want a pianist? Get James Hawken. Want an engineer or producer? Get me (howās that for a grand ad?). Want a violinist? Get Scott Shaw. Emily got Scott. And by Jove, he didnāt let her down. I have heard his playing on numerous records over the past couple of years, and itās always been really good. But this one simply HAS to be my favourite. It is technically perfect, but has such heart! Its fast vibrato is reminiscent of Edith Piafās. But less ridiculous. Itās like a parlour fiddle. But not a diddly-diddly kind of fiddly fiddle. The violin and indeed the entire song is lacking reverb. Which adds to the intimate nature of the song. Instead of sounding like it was recorded in St. Paulās Cathedral, it sounds like itās recorded in a room. Almost suggesting that those very four walls once kept Emily and her grandfather safe and warm during that intimate chinwag. The violin is notoriously hard to play well. It is just too easy to make a mistake. Mainly in tuning. Meaning that the slightest error or wavering can make it sound just awful. Scott manages to keep things perfectly in check. It is, after all, his Fender Strad.
āGrandadās Songā is a perfect and strangely addictive song – which could explain why it went STRAIGHT to number one in the NAS charts this week!
So! A bar in a church, ehā¦? I pray to God itās still open.
Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Iāll be back in my Corner on January 6th!
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