Unthank : Smith

Folk is more than a four-letter word. Folk is singular and plural. Folk is us and them, us ‘against’ them, contemporarily and historically. Folk music is the articulation of passing time and the matriculation of lasting rhyme (and reason). Folk tales are the disseminations of a fractured nation, a captured generation, the songs of the unsung. Echoes of the oppressed and suppressed that prevail. The prose and cons of rebelry (sic), reverie and revelry.

With all this (and more) in mind emerge Rachel Unthank and Paul Smith with their debut album ‘Nowhere and Everywhere’, a collection of traditional tunes mixed with original compositions that address regional matters both physical and psychic, specifically the area of Northumbria, the North East of England. With production by Field Music’s Sunderland native David Brewis it’s a regional affair.

For Unthank this is a continuing concern whether with her initial ensemble from 2004 – 2009 with the Winter Set or latterly as The Unthanks with sister Becky, Niopha Keegan, Adrian McNally and Chris Price. For Smith, more known as the hyper-kinetic frontman of Maxïmo Park, this is a new path to pursue, with the duo delicately embarking on the discovery and exploration of new roots and old routes. The banks, flanks, tides and sides of the watery Tyne, Wear and Tees all figuring prominently.

Plundering the provincial and proselytising the personal, both voices entwine and unwind, on three tracks the absence of instrumentation renders their respective twangs both haunting and daunting. None more so on opener ‘Captain Bover’ which tells the notorious tale of the nefarious shipmaster who tricked or whipped conscripts into sea-bound servitude. A life of strife on the ocean wave.

The Smith-penned ‘The Natural Urge’ tells the story of World War 1 artist, Paul Nash, whose landscape paintings communicated the horrors of war and in their picture postcards from the edge damaged and destroyed dystopia (strafed wastelands; leafless trees) look and feel frighteningly relevant. You wouldn’t wish to be there.

‘Seven Tears’ (a Rachel Unthank original) is all-in weird and eerie, full-on wired and weary, a mystical mantra addressed to the ‘selkie’, a mythological creature that removes its outer layers in the sea to morph into human form on firmer terrain. The tears in question acting as an elixir in hope of returning love.

‘Red Wine Promises’ was originally recorded by fellow Humbersiders and pioneering flame-keepers of the arcane, mundane and profane siblings Lal and Mike Waterson on their 1972 album ‘Bright Phoebus’. Smith has noted that the song was initially misprinted on the album’s first pressing with an ‘and’ included, the removal of it here adds a different sheen to proceedings. A drinking song that celebrates the highs and lows, the enthralling-ups and falling-downs that the demon drink enables.

As a love-letter to locality and long-lost characters and creatures this album is a joy. Musically backed by Faye MacCalman on clarinet and Alex Neilson on drums, it’s hugely moving and soothingly warm, ultimately you’re left feeling, anywhere, somewhere, everywhere and nowhere … maybe. That’s ‘where’ you’re at.