Sandwitch
Album: Rise Up
Label: Chaos
Tracks: 12
Website: http://www.myspace.com/sandwitchfolk

Sandwitch (or should it be Sand Witch?) is husband-and-wife duo Andrea and Buddy Freebury, based since 2006 in deepest Wales. They've been making music together for some 15 years now, and this is their fifth album - a statistic which, as their liner note points out, would normally imply a level musical progression over that time but in this case Rise Up is to be considered their second "difficult" album following an awkward three-year artistic block. I was surprised to learn of this, for the singing, playing and songwriting on Rise Up appear universally confident and assured on pretty much all counts, with only minor issues that I feel worth raising during the course of this review.

Having not heard any of Sandwitch's CDs prior to number four (Going 4th…), I'm not able to comment on the musical progression issue, but as a stand-alone product Rise Up is an attractive proposition by any standards. Andrea and Buddy's intense accomplishment is on proud display throughout the disc's generous playing-time, with a sequence of mostly self-penned songs with a keen sense of tradition, songs that belie their deceptively gentle settings by demonstrating the depth of the duo's concerns and often quite poignantly reflecting their experiences and lives. Buddy's one of those musicians for whom the term multi-instrumentalist seems to have been specially invented (he plays at least five types of guitar including bass, as well as mandolas, flute, piccolo, ocarina and soprano sax), while Andrea does duty on acoustic guitar and Celtic harp. Both are highly competent singers of real character; I could liken Andrea's forthright, rich voice at times to a sweeter-toned sister of Anna Shannon, perhaps.

Generally, the duo's music has a bold presence, and a distinct resonance of what has been tagged the golden age of underground folk (early 70s), and (aside from some interim production advances maybe) this album wouldn't have sounded out of place in that era. Having said that, they also take good heed of contemporary songwriting by delivering superbly responsive accounts of Steve Knightley's Cousin Jack and Kate Rusby's Falling that complement their own material very well.

From the very start their own songs are very engaging; Don't Go Down The Mine, to all intents and purposes a creative rewrite of a song from a Roy Palmer collection, makes for a strong disc opener, while the mining theme is picked up again later on The Bell, a narrative inspired by a true story of railways in the South Welsh valleys, and smuggling provides the focus for the rollicking Dead Man's Cave. More personal concerns are addressed in the poignant Sea Of Daffodils and Borrowed Time, contrasting with the happy warmth of Summer Haze and the overt but sensible (if obligatory!) and suitably rousing political rant of the disc's title song, while Circle Of Friends both celebrates and audibly enjoys the companionship of like-minded folk-mates in the shape of guests Amanda & Mark Hadlett (of Stormcrow), Sam Coles and Glenn Coggin. Andrea and Buddy have also recruited another fine singer, Maria Barham, for vocal duties on four tracks including an ensemble a cappella take on My Johnny Was A Shoemaker.

By now you'll gather that I really rate Sandwitch, and this CD is very appealing indeed. The production is keen, and the songs are given some atmospheric touches which for the most part enhance the writing (the only unfortunate miscalculation being the intrusively loud howling-wind effects that spoil the evocative Land Of The Moors And The Sea).

Congratulations then to Sandwitch on their emergence out of the rut to produce a seriously haunting and intriguing CD.

David Kidman