Barry Dransfield

The Lama Reviews:
I should warn you right away that Barry Dransfield's rare solo LP from 1972 is one of a dozen or less albums worldwide that has a "special" significance for me. I can't readily explain the reasons for this except to say that the particular angle that Barry hits you from on these haunting, evocative songs is the exact same angle from which I am open to receive statements about man, nature and the universe. On a purely objective, statistically verified level, something like Nick Drake's debut LP is perhaps a stronger testament from a similar position, but in the hi-fi room where the Lama rules, Barry comes out on top.

This is an odd bird no matter how you approach it. It's much rarer than the other Dransfield albums, due to the fact that just as the "Folk Mill" subsidiary was being launched, some A & R cokehead at Polydor decided that folk music was old hat, and thus the releases -- which also included the incredible "Moyshe McStiff" album by C.O.B -- were allowed to die a swift death in the marketplace. You have to feel for the artists hit by this bonehead "hardball" decision, especially as the folk scene was about to peak rather than disintegrate. In the case of Barry Dransfield he would never again make anything that comes close to the superb control, delivery and emotional commitment on display here. It is his masterpiece, and the only thing in the Dransfield brothers' checkered catalog that comes close to the tag "masterpiece".

Born out of an explicit ambition to further develop the semi-acoustic folk then popular in the Isles, Barry made several smart decisions when putting his solo debut together. One was to listen attentively when friends were pitching songs for him to cover. Hence we are treated to a number of truly marvelous tunes not covered by many others. It also seems that there was an unusually clear understanding of his own strengths and weaknesses as a performer at play, meaning that not only does almost every song fit beautifully into the total puzzle of the LP, but several of them sound like they had been written directly for Barry -- which was not the case. I bet that a good number of the lucky few that bought this LP when it came out figured most or all songs to be Dransfield originals, until they read the liner notes which reveal that just 1 of the 11 songs were written by the man himself.

So while the opening "The werewolf" sounds like a confession from the depths of Barry's own soul, it is in fact a cover of American folkie Michael Hurley, released some 6 years earlier. I would like to explain the remarkable mood this song creates, but I don't think I can. It's a beautiful melody, built on simple minor chord shifts from the fertile ground where trad and contemporary folk meet. The fable-like lyrics seem to me an examination of male sexuality in its purely instinctive, animal-like form, and the way Barry sings it balances perfectly the complex undercurrents at play; remorse, excitement, danger. It's just his voice and acoustic guitar, not even the trademark violin, and it's pure transcendence. He has never been famous for his vocal qualities, but here he delivers a performance that stands for hundreds of repeat plays.

Perhaps the most well known track covered on "Barry Dransfield" is the second one, which is David Ackles' "Be my friend" -- at least I am aware of other versions of it! Barry's superb vocals and heartfelt violin playing add an overtone of C.O.B-like sorrow to a track that may in lesser hands come off like a piece of Cat Stevensish sentimentality. Here it becomes a moving statement about the human condition, gaining strength from its directness, and I doubt you'll ever come across a better recording of this tune. Two brief jigs follow, nicely played and pointing towards another ocean than the melancholy waters of the LP openers. Incidentally, Barry was a real, old-school fiddle player, meaning that he held the instrument out from his chest, rather than between chin and shoulder like a classical musician. Apart from that, jigs & reels aren't my specialty, so I'll move on.

Barry's atmospheric voice is given plenty of room on "She's like the swallow", which is a cappella for the first minute or so, delivering a beautiful lyric reminiscent of a Shakespeare sonnet, before guitar and violin enter to support a repeat of the verse. The interplay between the string instruments is marvelous, and one can only regret that the track is cut short so quickly. That interplay is carried further on "Broken barricades", which explores the theme of war at sea so common to British folk, although it's used mainly as a metaphor here. Again, the song seems almost too short; the lamenting refrain in particular is irresistible.

Side 1 ends with a Dransfield original, and "Girl of dances" is one of the very best tracks on the album. Another instance of the remarkable consistency in sound and mood previously defined, Barry delivers a platonic love song that seems like a distill of the great numbers that have preceded it; the guitar and violin interplay -- the violin now doubletracked to create a rich, almost Arabian sound; the distinct yet moody minor chord changes; the soaring yet mournful voice; the timeless lyrics being equally valid for 1852 as 1972. Thankfully, this track is allowed to develop its full potential and clocks in at almost 6 minutes. This, along with "The werewolf" were chosen to represent the Polydor album on a Dransfield retrospective sampler, and rightly so. From beginning to end, side 1 of "Barry Dransfield" is absolutely flawless, in fact I think it's unbelievably great, its lingering theme a bittersweet celebration of life and all its ups and downs.

So all the duds are on side 2 then, right? Well, not really, but it can't match the 20 minutes that preceded it. There are a couple of tracks that showcase a more jokey, tongue-in-cheek side of the man, and undeniably make for excellent entertainment -- as in the case of "Lots of little soldiers", a clever satire on the hypocrisy of the arms trade -- but the highlight of the side is the beautiful "Lily's ballade" which is in the spellbinding melancholy style of side 1. The skillfully performed "Robin Hood and the peddlar" is a charming tall tale from the days of yore, reminiscent of the Dransfield brothers usual material, while the closing 4-minute commercial for Worthington beer unfortunately ends the album on the wrong note, lifting you from the elegiac churchyard mood into a public house comedy act. This is the one case where Mr Dransfield's judgment failed him, but apparently the number had a personal significance to him.

As a non-chartered, fantasy A & R guy I like to suggest various changes to the LPs I review even if the last copy shipped some 30 years ago, but I'm gonna forfeit this task for "Barry Dransfield" because any change to the Wordsworthian brilliance of side 1 is likely to be to its detriment, while a restructuring of side 2 would be a bit like rearranging the deck chairs on the HMS Indefatigable. I'll take "Barry Dransfield" as it is -- an excellent contemporary folk LP with a first side of such extraordinary beauty that its greatness almost carries the whole of side 2 as well.

Notes on the reissue: The 2003 CD reissue on the Spinney label is a pretty good job. I think it would be hard to bring out more from a vinyl-sourced mastering effort than what they've done. On direct comparison it sounds slightly better in terms of clarity and dynamics than my CD-R copy which is burned directly from a vinyl orig. The Spinney liner notes state outright that the master tapes are LOST ("despite the loss of the master tapes...") and this is where it gets interesting. To begin with, it's NOT TRUE. At least the tapes were around in 1998-99, when a double CD compilation of the Dransfield bros was put together by the Free Reed label in England. Buried in the extensive liner notes to that double CD there was a reference to how such-and-such at Polydor managed to find the masters just as the compilation was being completed.

Now, the reason I know this is true is because I compared the 2 tracks from the Free Reed double CD with the current Spinney CD, and good as the Spinney sounds, the Free Reed tracks ("Werewolf" and "Girl of dances") sound obviously better -- they have the crystal clear quality you get from masters after a digital transfer. It took all of 10 seconds to tell the difference; you can hear Barry move his hand along the guitar neck after the very first line of "Werewolf", and on the Free Reed this sound is LOUD as day; a similar phenomena can be heard when he breathes in before the 2nd verse. No doubt about it: it's from tapes, these tapes exist, and the Spinney liners are incorrect. Other than that, Spinney distorted the colors of the sleeve a bit, adding a sepia-tone filter to what was a naturalistic photo. In fact on the CD back cover it looks like Barry is wearing lipstick and rouge, and while he was a modern, open-minded guy I don't think it's an accurate representation.

Since an orig may set you back some £400 I'd still encourage each one among ye to get the Spinney re, because as a listening experience it's quite alright, and the liner notes are highly interesting.