I’ve waited a long time for this record, 13 years to be precise. Although there have been diversions in the form of live material, a covers album and multi-CD sets of demos and alternative versions of her older songs, that’s how long it’s been since Gillian Welch released The Harrow And The Harvest, her last album of newly recorded, original material. The Beatles released over 200 songs, the vast majority originals, in less time than that but Welch and her partner David Rawlings were stymied by the storm that seriously damaged their Woodland studio in 2020, and their pursuit of perfection is, of course, legendary. The word is that they recorded something in the region of 100 songs over the last decade, and these have been whittled down to the ten that appear on this album.
Furthermore, the lay off – if that’s the right term for it – has brought about a change in their working methods insofar as unlike on previous records by the pair Woodland Studios is not credited to Welch alone but also to Rawlings, and he takes the lead vocal on three tracks. In realty, of course, they’ve always been a duo in all but name. Also, there is a more complete feel to the production on this album, which isn’t to say that Welch’s earlier records were incomplete, just that she had established a rather spartan sound, a homespun, fireside feel that offered a sense of intimacy, as if she and David were singing just for you. On Woodland Studios just half the tracks feature Welch and Rawlings alone, with a full band – bass and drums with added pedal steel – on four and a hefty string section on two.
The subject matter hasn’t changed, however, and neither has the spikiness of Rawlings’ guitar, that easily recognisable sharp tonality. The songs remain desolate, the landscape barren, the protagonists in need of comfort. The freight train in the opening song, slowly chugging away, is empty; an analogy for America under its president elect? We can’t be sure but the outlook looks bleak. ‘What We Had’, the following track, highly pitched by David, looks back nostalgically to something lost, perhaps the storm-wrecked studio, its soft cadence enhanced by violins, violas and a cello deep in the mix. ‘Lawman’, the first by the duo alone, opens with a nod to ‘Bring A Little Water, Sylvie’, Lead Belly’s much-covered folk ballad, before mourning a lover’s death at the hands of law enforcement, while ‘The Bells And The Birds’ contrasts birdsong with peeling bells, its fragility lending it an ambience that could sit happily on any of Welch’s earlier albums.
But for its full band arrangement, the same might be said of ‘North Country’, driven along by exquisitely-plucked guitars, a nagging, lilting figure, and harmony singing of the highest order. ‘Hashtag’, with hints at how covid unsettled our world – ‘Put another good one in the ground, Good lord it’s going ’round’ – is awash with melody, orchestral backing, Rawlings’ vocal lines warm and sympathetic. In contrast to ‘Riverboat song’, a gorgeous song of praise to an unnamed river on the Boots No 1 – The Official Revival Bootleg album, ‘The Day The Mississippi Died’ hints at a time when this mighty river might finally dry up, another touchstone for the state of America as it stands divided by politics, culture and inequality.
The remaining three songs, ‘Turf The Gambler’, ‘Here Stands A Woman’ and ‘Howdy Howdy’, revert to their established style, just Welch and Rawlings playing and singing together. The first, about the demise of a poker-playing down-and-out, has the feel of an ancient folk song, with added Dylanesque harmonica; the second, taken at a crawl, sees the protagonist looking into the mirror as she dwells despondently on her past; while the song that closes Woodland Studios is a rather melancholy contemplation on togetherness that belies its chirpy title and features Welch on softly plucked banjo.
Other reviewers have remarked at how the wistfulness of Welch and Rawlings’ songs is mixed with compassion, how the characters within them face a stark reality that is not always apparent from the America that advertises itself on television and in the movies, and in their struggle to overcome this reach towards a kind of heroism. I concur with this analysis. On yet another exquisitely crafted, long-awaited album, Welch and Rawlings lay bare some truths within songs of yearning and sorrow, just as they always have done and, I hope, will continue to do. It’s rumoured they’ll be visiting the UK again next year. I’ll be first in line for my tickets.
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