Heed The Thunder
Album: Cokaigne
Label: Self Released
Tracks: 8
Website: http://www.heedthethunder.com

This band ain't easy to pin down, but they sure make interesting and rewarding music. Two-thirds of their number (Kate Gathercole and Mark Waters) are known for their roles in psych-folkers Sproatly Smith (whose latest CD still hasn't reached me for review…), while the third, Alex Gordon, first came to prominence in the late 90s in alt-country combo Lincoln. Those backgrounds don't exactly give the clue to what to expect from Heed The Thunder, but there's plenty of psych-folkery of the Led-Zepp-3 variety, especially in the Page-like acoustic guitar work that permeates the first few tracks especially (I'm also reminded of Roy Harper in the 12-string traceries of Interested In People).

It would appear that Cokaigne is the trio's third CD release, and it has both the air of accomplishment and a singularity of musical vision while at the same time appearing slightly ramshackle as befits its genesis at a two-day live recording session in the flat lands of the north Norfolk coast. The album's production, by Hieronymous Melchers, is sparklingly clear and crisp, with exceptional definition and a dynamic sense of perspective.

Investigating further, I learn that Heed The Thunder have been variously tagged "agri-psych" and "ruralcore" (this latter term relating to the wide spectrum of sounds they conjure, from Americana and skiffle to trad-English and weird-folk). But I might as easily invoke and itemise a veritable plethora of "reminds me of" points (yet without my ever intending to label the band's music derivative in any way, rather to imply a richness of inspirations). Yes, I could say that opener Blackest Night has a bit of a Robert Hunter/Grateful Dead feel, while the rhythm of the lyric made me think of Boo Hewerdine's Harvest Gypsies; Street Life marries the rhythmic slow-tread of a Neil Young/Crazy Horse epic with an insistent, ominous fuzz-guitar figure. There's a close-honed Gillian Welch feel to Drink Up And Go with its rustic backporch figures, and a simple Make Me A Pallet On Your Floor air to the melody of Will Succeed (before the banjo part goes slightly amok during the breaks). Then there's some decidedly weird touches like the askew brass-band shambles that intrudes on Basilisk, the jubilant clappy rhythms and jarring brass chorale of Horrible Condition (a bit nightmarish Bedlam Boys, that one, peculiarly crossed with jaunty Dead End Street-mode Ray Davies), and the jittery wooziness and Robert Wyatt-like cabaret-vocal of closing track Lucky Man (the only track that outstays its welcome a touch).

An unusual and rather stimulating disc, one that definitely makes me want to backtrack on Herefordshire's celebrated ruralcore-folkers' earlier recordings.

David Kidman