SONGS OF
GREEN PHEASANT
same
CD, Fat Cat
It is easy to guess that Duncan Sumpner, the man behind
everything that is Songs of Green Pheasant, was born into the wrong century.
He would have fit better into the Seventies of last century, or even some
centuries ago, doing “minnesang” for the lord’s lady. Inbetween these
melodies derived from medieval ballads – just check out “The
Nightfall” to see what I mean - and mid-seventies-Folk-supergroups - from
Crosby, Stills & Nash to Simon & Garfunkel, actually - there is
nevertheless a definite feel for avant-garde tools using noise and such. Not
too hard to have noise on a home-recorded 4-track record, you say? Well, for
one the unhinged closeness to the recording process results in an intimacy
and transfer of emotion rarely achieved, even by most home-recorders and
lo-fi-producers. During these songs the listener will feel (almost
uncomfortably at the beginning) close to the musician. Moreover, it is
definitely a difference if noise gets on the tape on purpose or by accident
and the inability to do better. Besides, this is not a noise-record in any
sense anyway, so don’t get to upset about it, okay?
This is a collection of ten songs born from their own
desire. Some of them seem like short sketches of songs really, which at
times is a pity, e.g. when Sumpner starts an interesting sliding and
slapping-part on the old acoustic guitar on “Knulp” and suddenly the
song is over. What can you do? A song is always over when the music stops.
(Yeah, I know the exceptions to this rule, from Cage to the Melvins to
metaphysics …) Others have the feel and look of having been worked on and
over quite a lot, especially traceable in various arrangements, that just
smell from the changes that have occurred from their conception to their
laying down on tape. I don’t know how to say this, but some of these songs
just feel more mature and ripe than others, which might change drastically
over the next few months (especially because Sumpner is rehearsing with a
second musician to get these songs out on a tour).
Interestingly, with time and as the record goes on, the
songs start to blurr and fade into each other in my mind and the same effect
of tranced loop starts to rise that I always had when listening to records
by Flying Saucer Attack or Wolf. Maybe it is just the effect of the
structure and this one instrument I can’t name lying a base of droning
bass-sound through the final song on the record “From here to somewhere
else”, but I had that symptom also before that song started on various
occasions. With time also, and that might seem a little contrary now, the
beauty of melodies as on “I am Daylights” or “Hey Hey Wilderness” or
in almost every song here and there starts to peel itself of its shells. And
there is a lot of beauty and harmony and praise of nature’s greatness
within these songs. Does it come from those “feet in ancient time / (that)
walked o’er England’s mountains ‘n greens”? I am only half joking
here. Time and time again I am gently but firmly pushed towards antique
atmospheres and melodies and then back towards the future.
The lyrics, though hidden or rather slumbering gently
in the soft mist of the music, seem to go straight to the most imminent and
central issues. “They can’t break your soul. / Tell me what is a
soul?” he sings on “Nightfall”, shortly before the song breaks off
into its second half and turns from harmonious into bleak and destructive.
By the way, the only incident of aggression in any sense of the word on the
whole record, and the song ending on overdriving guitar noise. Other than
that one instance the feeling is gentle and reflecting. Please don’t
mistake that for harmless. True, there are a lot of mistakes you can make
with this record, and maybe I have made some as well and the real inner
worth of this record will reveal itself to me over the next few weeks, but
at least I can lead you this far along the road. But if you have overcome
all the barriers, this piece of art will truly open itself upon you and
you’ll never regret it.
