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Review by Jack Foster
Kate Rusby is one of the few traditional performers who
has managed to cross over from the folk scene into the mainstream,
as one one of the most recognised folk singers outwith the
traditional world. This possibly has a lot to do with her
cameo appearance in a Ronan Keating song a couple of years
ago, obviously a shrewd move on Rusby's part - but it only
goes to expose the hollow nature of mainstream music's followers,
who wouldn't be seen dead listening to a traditional folk
album unless sanctioned first by either radio 1 or Top Of
The Pops. This said, Kate Rusby should be held in high regard
by the folk scene for bringing it to a much wider audience.
'Awkward Annie' is the follow up to 'The Girl Who Couldn't
Fly', and is the first album not to have been produced by
John McCusker. I am a fan of McCusker's production, and
was therefore intrigued to hear this new self produced album
- the difference is clear, and Rusby's production is beautifully
subtle and understated. Kate Rusby's voice is such though,
that even if the album was recorded on a dictaphone - it
would still hold up. The title track is a surreal folkie
ballad typical of Rusby's writing, tinged with humour whilst
tirelessly brandishing the standard of the traditional ballad.
A tale of unrequited love (though, I fear that description
could apply to almost any folk ballad).
One of the things I always enjoy when listening to a new
folk album is the fact that no two performers ever seem
to use the same title for a traditional song, so there are
always a few familiar songs you weren't expecting. 'John
Barbury' being one of these, a beautiful rendition of a
song I've always known as 'Willie o Winsbury' as performed
by the likes of Pentangle and Dick Gaughan, and 'Bloomin
Heather' with which I take issue with slightly, because
the title is 'Wild Mountain Thyme' (ours is not to reason
why). Wild Mountain Thyme, sorry - 'Bloomin Heather' should
be one of my favourite tracks on the album, but it is let
down by the jarring backing vocals, which I'm sure would
be lovely at the Royal Opera House - but they just don't
work on a folk album.
Give me a pair of headphones and leave me with track 6
though - 'Planets' is four minutes and ten seconds of folk
genius. The mixture between Rusby's voice, and the only
time I've ever heard what I'd describe as an emotionally
charged banjo (yes, banjo).
The whole album is definately more downbeat and personal,
perhaps reflecting recent events in Rusby's own life. The
album is the best yet though, and I guess it's true that
heartache and sadness often lend themselves well to the
creative spirit (if that doesn't sound too much like pish).
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