Richard Dawson (raucous experimental UK folk racket w/ intense picaresque realness vox)

I dreamt about Richard Dawson last night.

In the dream the mainstream had decided to try and co-opt him and so he had been invited on TV wanker-fest Sunday Brunch with Tim Lovejoy and The Other One. It was a special summer edition which was outside and the invited "too old for Hoxton but we're going to pretend anyway" middle class twunt target market were having a picnic. To try and make him more palatable they had given him a completely inappropriate backing band and they started a version of The Brisk Lad that sounded a bit like Take That. Richard tried to destabilise things by picking up a saxophone (which he clearly couldn't play) and tunelessly honking over them after the first verse. The producers responded by turning up the backing to try and restore order. Richard then walked off the stage in amongst the picnickers and started ad-lining verses, but when he said he would split the stolen sheep "from maw to cunt" it got a bit much for the producers and it went to a black screen.

:D

someone not on phone pls repost to striking imagery thread asap

That should have been "ad-libbing" near the end, but autocorrect obvs.

AAAAAAHHHH

Just interviewed him. Lovely man.

Spoke to him after the gig and can corroborate this

this is great! how did i not hear it till now?

This should be right up my alley but I've never managed to get past the first couple tracks.

there are only 4 tracks

I've listened to this about 4 times in the last 24 hours. Such expressive guitar playing. It makes me wonder what his guitar method is. He said in a Wire interview that when it comes to different tunings, he forgets what they are, but it definitely sounds like he's throwing in some interesting tunings in there all the same.

also everyone likes a guy who posts his posts to multiple threads

imo it is nothing short of the finest pastoralia the north of england has produced, its folk stylings tempered with something utterly seaborne & untameable. 'nothing important' is a preternaturally brilliant folk-prog exegesis on mortality for god's sake, yet it also feels…slightly improvised?

glad to have you on board, i really think this stuff is the most interesting & emotionally affecting music coming out of this country at the moment

― London's Left-Wing Utopian Non-League Ultras Are Reclaiming Football (imago), Wednesday, January 7, 2015 2:26 PM (11 seconds ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

if nothing else, "utterly seaborne" has me downloading this atm

this fucking guy... the lyrical swing between the mundane and the fantastical... All in a weird semi-tonal bloodchant:

Year 7s on a school trip to Featherstone Castle
And some wee scallywag's brung
A Coca-Cola bottle containing a spirit
Poor Peter Hepplethwaite cracks open his head
On a shiny brass doorknob
And has to be rushed by helicopter amublance
To Haltwhistle Hospital

Si Shovell fills a Reebok pump
With the pulp from his belly
Then sets off a fire extinguisher
In the girl's dormitory
And finally clambers into bed with Miss Bartholomew
Much to the chagrin of the deputy headmaster
Whose scarlet skull is firmly wedged between her thighs

I only drank a few little droplets
I only took a tiny draught of the vile stuff

Downing Asda's own-brand stubbies in the lad's bogs
I listen to the dull reflection of a carillon in the toilet bowl
My A-levels drifting away from me
Matthew Mooney's hockle in my hair
Smells like menthol tabs

Outside the chip shop Thaddeus Wagstaff fractures my cheekbone;
3 empty cans of Castlemaine XXXX
Go rolling down my trouser leg
Blood, snot and curry coalesce in the corners of my nails
My friends drifting away from me

I only drank a few little droplets
I only took a tiny draught of the vile stuff

Attempting to penetrate a coconut husk with a Philips-head screwdriver
I pierce a hole straight through my hand into the laminate worktop
It's a major operation to repair a damaged tendon;
I come around with the tube still down my throat
The milk of amnesia fills my cup and back into the hole I go

Snoring like a pan of broth, I arouse the ire
Of my fellow patients
Wagging their ladles in the dark

My neighbour Andrew lost two fingers to a Staffie-cross
Whilst jogging over Cow Hill with a Pepperami in his bum-bag
He's a junior partner at James & James no-win-no-fee solicitor
Thinking of relocating to a Buddhist monastery in Halifax

He reckons I should try meditation
He reckons it could benefit my peace of mind

My bedroom walls are papered with the stripes of Newcastle United
Between which I perceive the presence of a horse-headed figure
Holding aloft a flaming quiver of bramble silhouettes
He is the King of Children
Singing like a boiler: 'Tomorrow is on its way'

I haven't had a wink of sleep and now the sun is in my porridge
I'm starting a BTEC in Engineering at Tynemouth College
My thermos flask leaks parsnip soup on the metro
Clogging up the keys of my MacBook

Carrot pennies steam amidst a pyre of pencils
Ruck-sack dripping up the steps of WH Smith's
To buy a fresh pad of paper

I only drank a few little droplets
I only took a tiny draught of the vile stuff

Nothing Important is even better, maybe?

I am born by Caesarian section at 9:30 AM
in Princess Mary's Maternity Hospital
on the 24th May, forty years ago today,
dangled by the ankle, smacked across the bum,
swaddled in a blanket howling like a wheel.
My big brother on his tip-toes hisses 'I don't like him'.
He's Maradona, I'm Peter Beardsley, chasing a ball through the mud
followed by the kitchen window, bellowing through the fern:
'Boys! Dinner's ready!'
Dad is tuning in the telly beyond a heaving mountain of spaghetti hoops.

I am nothing
You are nothing
Nothing important
Death within a dream

Petrified on the back of a pedalo in the Balearic Sea off Alcudia
I can see the ghost of my uncle Derek waving to us from the beach,
gently drifting out of reach,
the telephone receiver swinging by its cord,
a glass of broken beer expanding on the lino.
My mam slips into the coffin
a polaroid of his sweetheart
Clutching Good-Luck Bear I peer gingerly over the side,
press my nose up to the tide,
and there behold a barracuda chewing on a chrysanthemum
and a family of clownfish hovering in the corpse's hair.

I am nothing
You are nothing
Nothing important
Death within a dream

In the scullery of the cub-hut my clarinet falls
into a sack of flour - a flurry of pins
squashed into the leather handle
a crescent moon of sleeping fig-wasps.
Drizzling my fingers with The Magic Sponge
Dad says 'we'll probably have to chop them off'.
He collapses like a canvas tent on the floodlit astroturf
rent by a fibula guide-rod poking a hole through his shin
There are teardrops in his moustache
charging a flute of champagne
down the aisle and out for a throw-in
A St.John ambulance careers between the sugary pillars of the wedding cake

I am nothing
You are nothing
Nothing important
Death within a dream

A crystal spoon
A pewter tankard
these words inscribed upon the base:
HAPPY RETIREMENT BEST GRANDDAD IN THE WORLD
A toby jug filled to the brim with curtain hooks
A sheepskin rug discoloured with tobacco smoke
within its braids concealed a rank
of plastic soldiers set to burst underfoot
Berwick in oils: a skiff on the swollen Tweed
cradling a false pearl
a ceramic seraph
with an ashtray for a brain
- and I don't care about these things
Why do they remain so clear while the faces of my loved ones disappear?

A Rington's plate
a forking hairline seam of superglue through the Black Gate
a digital photoframe
frozen on a blurry orange thumb
I don't care about these things
Old karate trophies
I remember these things
Thimbles and pesetas
I remember all these things
A roll of Woolworth's price stickers
I can see all these things but
where have all my people gone?

In the end it wasn't meant to be.
He was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.
He survived for seven days
before he slipped away

yeah try not to cry

I like those lyrics. Right now, I just wish he didn't sing them in unison with the guitar lead like Robert Wyatt doing George Benson. But I am trying.

'Nothing Important' > 'The Vile Stuff', though

The Vile Stuff is utterly amazing but yeah it got those votes (compared to NI) on the strength of having a shortened version with a video. Nothing Important is maybe one of the 20 greatest songs I've ever heard. I like that it got 134 points in the EOY poll with 3 votes alone!

Richard Dawson is an interesting one. Yes, there are similarities with other avant garde guitarists like Bill Orcutt and Derek Bailey, but those dudes strike me as being very deliberately deconstructionist to an almost academic degree whereas Dawson's playing style is 100% expressionist and very audibly so. His lyrical approach and the regional, historical and autobiographical references he incorporates into his work are truly unique. Also, the influence of art and world music in his work is as strong as any English folk music. Not to mention the way he amps his nylon string guitar through a Fender, which is considered highly unorthodox but achieves a very particular tone. There's a reason Wire mag has been going crazy over him this year.

― quinoa: how's it spelt? (dog latin), Friday, January 23, 2015 2:43 PM (6 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

brilliant post that needs to go here, nice one dl

New remix of Judas Iscariot by Basic House (Bish from Drunk In Hell/Opal Tapes).

http://www.factmag.com/2015/01/23/hear-basic-houses-misty-remix-of-newcastle-guitar-bard-richard-dawson/

An over-reliance on locations and names in lyrics is not to my taste. But: Dawson does it so much and so arrogantly I feel he's doing it deliberately to mock American songwriters who have interstates and national parks they'll namedrop without thinking about it. I mean, I think he's "taking the piss"

srsly been struggling with which riverbed tbh

He's basically doing the same stuff that happened in so much early 2000s psych-folk and freak-folk that I loved, not Devendra/Vetiver/Akron Family, but Cerberus Shoal/Big Blood, Eric Chenaux, Deep Dark United. Love this kind of stuff.

xp please LJ don't I come here to relax

sorry

there's something to be said about an overreliance on place names but dawson's use of microscopic detail is a v important part of his aesthetic - see the lyrics to Nothing Important where he compiles a huge list of childhood memories but then REJECTS them all - he has no need for them - it is more the tragic pathos of detail that he is invested in I'd say, less taking the piss (although there is a bit of that; he's very funny)

never heard any of those artists. links would be appreciated :)

or just single-song/single-album recommendations

I'm not so into that piss-taking theory, if only because it seems like a poor payoff for the effort it requires. I think as Dawson does it, it's serious (I don't mean po-faced).

Silly thing to take the piss out of, so, no.

Richard Dawson is an interesting one. Yes, there are similarities with other avant garde guitarists like Bill Orcutt and Derek Bailey, but those dudes strike me as being very deliberately deconstructionist to an almost academic degree whereas Dawson's playing style is 100% expressionist and very audibly so. His lyrical approach and the regional, historical and autobiographical references he incorporates into his work are truly unique. Also, the influence of art and world music in his work is as strong as any English folk music. Not to mention the way he amps his nylon string guitar through a Fender, which is considered highly unorthodox but achieves a very particular tone. There's a reason Wire mag has been going crazy over him this year.

― quinoa: how's it spelt? (dog latin), Friday, January 23, 2015 2:43 PM (6 minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

brilliant post that needs to go here, nice one dl

― my shoes are deception (imago), Friday, 23 January 2015 Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

No it isn't.

LOL

I just responded to that in the EOY thread:

hey dog latin I am late for this but there is not one single thing about Bill Orcutt that is "academic", now please go listen to Harry Pussy's What Was Music and Ride A Dove.

it's a great post about Dawson, at least - I don't know Orcutt or Bailey

so you didn't know a few of the bits he was comparing it to - are you even going to start thinking before you type this stuff.

Place naming has always incited ire in my heart I guess since I heard some Canucks try and do it "she blew like a Chinook down Yonge Street" or something

If you like the raga guitar of Richard, search Eric Chenaux "Worm and Gear", it's on Soundcloud. Stompy vibe? "Sweetie" from the Cerberus Shoal split w Herman Dune (no Herman on it don't worry). Deep Dark United is my favourite band ever, seek "Zut".

Hey, I like Herman Dune. Grrrr.

omg I did not know about that Cerebus Shoal split, I love them, thank you!

I like Herman Dune too tbh! But for different reasons, different moods

Weirdly that CS/HD split is imo the best thing the Cerberus camp would do til Big Blood

yh cheers, stoked to hear these. micachu mixtape was gr8 btw so ty doubly

I agree that place naming can be irksome - claiming a sort of rootsy kinship in a play for perceived authenticity - but Dawson is playing with memory and its trappings, also he likes & revels in the sounds of the names a lot. Hogwhistle Hospital!

Didn't hear much Harry Pussy in the Dawson tracks I listened to; solo Orcutt is a different matter.

oh for sure, was just bringing up the HP albums is response to Orcutt's perceived "academic" qualities

Yeah they are pretty much the antithesis of academic albs (unless the Centre for Advanced Bill Harkelroad Studies has really taken off recently)

Hogwhistle?

OMG, it has been a long time since I listened to anything by Chenaux or Deep Dark United! Should dig some up. Has Dawson ever mentioned being aware of them?

For the record, the only Orcutt I've heard is 'A History Of Every One'. I will check out Harry Pussy. But yeah, IIRC that was an album of deconstructed standards and reminded me very much of Derek Bailey. I mean, I love and respect Bailey. He's a revolutionary and his ideas are incredible, but I listen to Dawson for very different reasons.

Respec' to Del

A gentleman and a scholar.

Not much of a singer though

Nobody's perfect.

Place naming has always incited ire in my heart I guess since I heard some Canucks try and do it "she blew like a Chinook down Yonge Street" or something

It's okay when Stomping Tom does it though, right?

we used to live there on vine st

his account is protected so i won't bother to link the tweet, but David Flipping Sylvian has just written:

richard dawson will be, if he's not already, a national treasure. with occasional hints of wyatt, there's no one else writing anything like him. this album, less strident than others, is quite breathtaking.

does anyone want a single ticket for the show this thursday 3/30 at union pool in brooklyn? i bought one not realizing i already had tickets for sunset rubdown at the bowery ballroom happening at the same time and so i've had to make a choice.

anyway i guess preference will go to whoever responds soonest who is interested? the ticket is in the DICE app

man I would love to see him, especially on one of these shows he's playing with Pigs x7 (what a combo!), but it's a pretty small tour.

great show tonight. charmingly digressive between songs. hadn't realized this is his first visit to North America.

still giving a ticket away for thursday in brooklyn if anybody is interested which is painful for me but i've committed to the other show damn me!

I've got a ticket, but have a friend who would love to go, if you still have.

If there's anyone on here who's been listening to and thinking about The Ruby Cord all year long, as I have, I'm putting together a small "roundtable" thing that'll mostly be focused on the lyrics. The words on the album are so beautiful, the stories so good, but I've seen hardly any discussion or analysis of actual details of the lyrics -- and what I *have* seen is usually remarkably different from how I understand things myself. I've read about four or five summaries of The Tip of an Arrow and each one has a different take on the ending. I started thinking that it might be fun to gather some Ruby Cord diehards together and use a messaging app to really go in-depth about things. (And at the end I would shape the talks slightly into some kind of "Ruby Cord Roundtable: song by song" series and post it on a tiny, effectively no-readership music site of mine, just so that it doesn't all completely vanish into the aether.) If this sounds like the kind of thing you'd enjoy, send a message!

And another (sort of) Circle collaboration is one the way! Jussi and Tomi from Circle have released two albums as Mahti, where they've teamed up with Hannu Saha, a traditional Finnish folk musician. Both albums are beautiful and well worth checking out, gorgeous cover art too.

Anyway, a third Mahti record is coming soon and they've added Richard to the group, as well as Sally Pilkington.

https://mahtifinland.bandcamp.com/album/musiikki-1

Phenomenal news! Even if the two are joining more as "Bulbils" than as "Dawson & Pilkington, songwriters of Hen Ogledd," that's still one hell of an addition. Obviously. Bulbils rule the world.