It's only as we reach the 6th album proper (discounting this year’s earlier release The Kraken of Roath Park Lake which served as an introductory sampler to the magical world of Nathan Hall and those Sinister locals of his) that I realise that, to my mind, at least, this run of albums were in danger of blurring into each other, possibly as a result of Nathan Hall being such a prolific one-man songsmith. This isn’t a criticism because I’m a big fan of Hall’s playfully jocose approach to psychedelia, but this album sounds different to the previous five releases, as if he’s changed his sound palette from A Saucerful of Secrets, say, to The Bee gee’s 1st - both of which inhabit the sunlit glades of a switched-on, tripped-out summer of 1967, which is where the spirit of this whimsical album abides, its eyes the size of dinner plates, no doubt. Not that Golden Fleece is trying to mimic either of those albums, rather it shares with them a technicolour soundscape of its own, but one clearly at home to that year’s lysergic sense of wonder. Hall’s trick for conjuring up magical imagery is still in place – there are chandeliers in garden sheds to consider; a name-checking of West Coast Laurel Canyon aristocracy to admire; hash pipes and unicorns make an appearance; as do Jason and the Argonauts (the album title is a bit of a giveaway), the Green Goblin, and lost, beautiful, enigmatic actresses; alongside Ferris wheels and joyrides and exhortations to not wear sandals on any day featuring the letter ‘Y’; and in the sublime ‘Castles In My Mind’, my favourite track on the album, we find the line “if you can’t evict your demons, be sure they pay their rent”, possibly the best lyric I’ve come across in ages; and musically, guitars flange, analogue electronics squelch and elsewhere a whole kitchen sink of instrumentation is employed to kaleidoscopic effect – all these elements combine alchemically with Hall’s usual way with a fanciful melody and a touch of pastoral loveliness, and, from this magic, two psychedelic bedfellows, wonder and delight, are produced - but this time it all feels fresher, more focussed, as if Hall has stopped making albums as a hobby and has finally crafted something that he wants to be recognized for, and so he should, for this is the best album he’s produced since 2017’s Effigies. Highly recommended.
