I always get a bit anxious when I’m asked
to write a review of a new record, but fortunately it doesn’t happen very
often. I find I’m a lot better at listening to music than I am of
describing it – I don’t have the required way with words, or a clever way with
similes – and, frankly, I don’t have the gift to describe what’s going on in a
tune, or whether it’s good or not, but despite this, I know what I like: I like
a good tune; a good melody – the sort of thing a milkman could cheerfully
whistle while he delivers a pint to your doorstep – and I like music to be
clever; I like to be able to think “Oh, that’s pretty”, or “That’s clever”, and
mostly I like to be able to think both these things about a song or an album at
the same time. One of the reasons I’m drawn to psychedelic music is that, by its
very nature, it has to be clever; it has to have that something extra going on –
an extra bit of reverb, or a backwards guitar, or tape loops or some studio
trickery – but something clever, nevertheless. Not all clever music is
psychedelic, of course, but all psychedelic music must be clever.
The Beatles – my first musical loves –
managed to have way with a good tune and be clever at the same time, which is
why they’ve remained a constant presence in my life and I am, of course,
particularly fond of their psychedelic period which began with Rain in
1966 and finished at some point during the making of The White Album
some two years later (although Abbey Road has some lovely
embellishments). Can anything be cleverer or prettier than A Day In The Life,
say, or Strawberry Fields? In fact, that whole period is awash with
gorgeous, pretty songs – The Stones’, She’s A Rainbow, Pink Floyd’s See
Emily Play, The Byrds’ Change Is Now, The Beach Boys’ Good
Vibrations – these are my touchstones, my reference points, for judging whether
I like new music or not – is it as pretty as Penny Lane? Is it as clever
as Tomorrow Never Knows? As far out as I Am The Walrus? – all of
which brings us nicely to Nathan Hall, the only person who has ever asked me to
write about his music.
We have history, Nathan and I, although I
doubt he knows it. His debut album with The Soft Hearted Scientists, Uncanny
Tales From The Everyday Undergrowth, released back in 2005 (it’s really a
collection of the band’s first three EP’s) remains one of my favourite albums
of all time (up there with Love’s Forever Changes in my unsolicited
opinion) but I couldn’t tell you why – only that the songs are irresistibly
pretty and clever and undeniably psychedelic. Since that release he has been one
of the few artists from whom I will buy anything that they choose to release. Having
released some five or six further albums since their debut (what with the occasional
collection of demos and the odd compilation album) that estimable band seems to
be on some kind of hiatus but Nathan Hall, not one to let the grass grow
beneath his feet, has been emitting albums as Nathan Hall and The Sinister
Locals ever since, and, with the release of Pointing Paw a few weeks ago,
we have arrived at his fifth release under this moniker. I understand that it
was due to be released last year but the UK’s Covid lockdown prevented SHS
bassist from travelling to Cardiff to record with him (I think he may be the
sinister local). Having been released from those hopefully temporary constrictions
the album finally sees the light of the day, allowing Nathan to manumit his singular
psych-tinged vision upon the world.
The first thing I ought to say, given my
somewhat lengthy preamble, is that the album is packed with pretty, clever
psych-pop tunes and ticks all the right boxes with regards to the milkman being
able to give them a good whistle. Whilst not overtly psychedelic the songs are funny,
playful and whimsical, and, whilst I’m loath to use Syd Barrett as a reference
point, these songs clearly exist in the same universe as Syd’s Love You
and It’s No Good Trying, had Barrett been able to add Hall’s love for vintage
keyboards, synths, effects, electronics, drones and percussion to the mix. He
also has a very Beatle-esque way with a tune, although one that leans more
towards McCartney’s melodicism than Lennon’s acerbic rawness. In fact, the
songs have the same sense of delicate refinement as that of a chamber orchestra
– these songs do not wig-out, but rather exist in their own self-contained
worlds, eschewing traditional song structure, but propelled along with a
melodic playfulness that seeks, as Hall himself notes on his Bandcamp page, the
same confusion of the senses that a prime Beach Boys track does. Lyrically, the
songs explore tales of Covid claustrophobia, the dangers of tacky
commercialism, disastrous job interviews, melodramatic hangovers at the
beginning of the working week, revenge fantasies, spooky stone circles, what
the moon might think about the horrible things the human race gets up to
beneath her benign gaze, and, on the gnomic Hornet’s Nest, a list of stupid
things to not do; musically they take in Brian Wilson-inspired hymnals (Love
Long Gone), Morricone-esque
spaghetti Western vibes (Catholic College), prog-pop time changes (God’s
Magistrate), baroque orchestral flourishes and hypnotic mantras (Wooden
Eyelids), with nods to The Monkees (Insurrection – Malice in the Palace)
and Loaded-era Velvet Underground (Hornet’s Nest – my favourite
track on the album). The overall sound, though, is one of charmed pastoral
restraint which is both gently psychedelic and bucolic. I make no claims to synaesthesia,
but I tend to see music in colour – if I had to pick a colour to describe Pointing
Paw, I would tell you that it bathes in the colour of light through a
stained-glass window, or the dissolute colours of a peacock’s feathers. Nathan
Hall and The Sinister Locals have released enough albums now that I’m able to
start picking favourites, and Pointing Paw is certainly the best thing
they’ve done since their debut release Effigies, back in 2017 - which
isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed listening to the others enormously, but these
are fully-realised, warm-hearted affairs full of ravishing wordplay, psych-pop
melodies and spooky electronic sound effects. Hugely enjoyable.
Available to download, stream or buy from
Bandcamp here.
