BROWN HORSE : RESERVOIR

BROWN HORSE : RESERVOIR

Stealing Horses
Reservoir
Shoot Back
Everlasting
Bloodstain
Paul Gilley
Sunfisher
Silver Bullet
Outtakes
Called Away

Label : Loose

Release Date : January 19, 2024

Length : 45:40

Review (KLOF Magazine) : While Brown Horse may be from Norfolk, their debut album, Reservoir, strongly suggests that their musical souls are rooted in the soil tilled at Big Pink and lit by a harvest moon. The six-piece features vocalist and guitarist Patrick Turner, alongside original members Rowan Braham on piano and accordion, Emma Tovell on lap steel and banjo and bassist Nyle Holihan, with the most recent recruits being percussionist Ben Auld and Phoebe Troup on backing vocals. All four original members contribute lyrics, while the whole band is involved in the music. Four days in the studio and several years in the making, Reservoir opens with the restrained rock dynamic of the melancholic, banjo-dappled five-minute Stealing Horses, ostensibly about what it says but, according to Turner, more about the way songs change over time and how country artists, if not stealing, borrow from previous generations as the narrator notes “I heard you on the radio late last night/Singing an old Jimmie Rodgers song…You sang right through the things I knew/The things I’d left behind”, adding “If you come down to this same town/There’ll be no compromise/You can leave your saddle here/But it’s still my horse to ride”. The acoustic title track with its plucked banjo follows as Tovell unfolds snapshots of “skin picked wicked sore” lives weighed down by desperation, loneliness and frustration in lines like “Bloodied stubbed toes ache scraped bare across the bathroom floor/Wiping cheeks red wet from the parade outside the mall/The good times passed and never did they ever really stop to say goodbye” and “Snow-flaked scalp shakes long white trails across his back/Gets off the bus and then walks heavy down the dirt road track”. The keys-backed wearily soulful Shootback lifts the tempo slightly but, finding room for guitar solo, continues on a similar theme of not being beaten down by trying to stay alive (“I’m so tired/Of loving what I’m trying to do”), emotionally if not physically, patching the doubts that niggle away and asking “How d’you find a way to shoot back?” when “there are some seasons/That too long have to last”, venturing into the existential with “If I wasn’t you then I would’ve been another/Whoever said that we wouldn’t be each other?”. Neil Young enters the musical landscape with the piano noodling and electric guitars of Everlasting, where desperation and resignation once more colour Turner’s lyrics (“No one really makes it out here/Pull the sheets up, watch your ankles disappear….All my friends and I decide/To quit the city, at least for a little while/God willing we make the best of our mistake”). Bloodstain continues the musical association with its rasping, distorted Crazy Horse riffery, roiling keys and Turner’s snarling whine as it taps into those doubts and demons that, once let slip, can’t be put back in the box or, as the lyrics put it, “once dried you can never try to hide a bloodstain…Call it distraction, call it despair/No matter what you call it you can feel it when it’s there”, the experience of depression captured in “Shark teeth that speak to me waiting in the depths” as you find yourself “Standing alone out on a sand spit/Cut off by the sea” as the water moves closer. The first of two contributions from Brown Horse’s Braham, the six-minute Paul Gilley references the Kentucky songwriter who, unheralded while alive, was, in the decades following his drowning in his neighbours’ pond at 27, identified as likely having written the lyrics to such songs as Hank Williams hits I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry and Cold, Cold Heart. It’s not about him per se, but rather how he captured sadness in his songs as Braham ponders, “If Paul Gilley wrote the words to the saddest song that Elvis ever heard/Maybe he could’ve worked something from the feeling that I’ve got”. Pensively strummed on 70s reverb guitar, featuring Turner on fiddle and Tovell on bass, slowly gathering in power, Sunfisher, the sole lyric from Holihan, visits memory, loss and grief (“I hope you’re living well and leaving the spirit alone/I saw your father last week, he said “you’re sorely missed at home”/Sometimes the silence rings like a bell/The night walked in/in a blaze of red and you were gone when it fell”). Reservoir’s fiercest track with its churning guitars, driving keys and West Coast alt-country rock sensibilities, Silver Bullet is one of the few numbers that crackles with hope and positivity in the face of imagery such as “Silver bullet sounded just like the cry/Of the last lone ranger on the night before he died” and “Reach forward and your fingers touch the rust” as Turner defiantly declares “it might be over for them but it ain’t over for us” and, as the guitars wail, “Forever ain’t the way that it used to be”. The second from Braham, here on accordion, and again clocking in over six minutes, the sway-along Outtakes is an acoustic-based but propulsive number that serves up the metaphor of turbulent emotion in “the cloud breaks above a river that’s run itself dry” but in the face of despair (“I’m the outtakes of an actor trying to make herself cry… I can’t sleep unless I’m weak from work/I can’t sleep unless I haven’t slept in days”) again finds hope and salvation in love (“You are the sight of a sudden bend in the road/The struggle to light of the seeds that the night has sowed”). It ends, arranged for banjo, accordion and lap steel, on a final downbeat, wistful note with the nimbly fingerpicked, intimately sung Called Away and its images of hurt (“I might look alright but I don’t feel alright at all/I loved you, Julianne/And I wish you’d never run off with your father’s friend/With a bruise just below your mouth”) of change (“It was summer then but don’t you know it’s winter now”) and of loss and regret (“You were always set on leaving but I don’t remember why/I still like these memories of you/Snows came early this year and the memories did too”) as it ends asking “Do you ever get that feeling like you left something behind?” Often lyrically enigmatic and poetic, Brown Horse’s music is capable of both molten ferocity and tender sepia-grained caresses; it’s a hugely confident debut that bodes well for a sustained career both at home and, especially, in the States. They embrace their influences but are not defined by them, their musical shoulders more than strong enough to carry the weight.

Review (Sputnik Music) : Continuing in the grand tradition of country influenced bands with ‘horse’ in the name (Crazy Horse, Sparklehorse, Band of Horses, etc) are Brown Horse - so far so predictable but does their approach to music hold some surprises? To put it bluntly, not really, but this thar colt is no ‘soon to be nag’ ya hear. Here we have an alt country framework that finds space to work in some old school country rock, some barroom band vibes and even a few cheeky soft rock influences. This sound also leans in heavy on a ‘90s brand of ‘alt’ at times and that’s why frequently I’m reminded as much of Live’s singer Ed Kowalczyk as I am with any country star. We need to spend more time with the vocals as they’re pushed front and centre in the mix and they’ll be a deal breaker for many; as much as this won’t be my favourite vocal performance of the year the style does warm on you over repeat plays, but they really did need to smooth out after a middling first impression. As creaky as Will Oldham and only one billy goat shy of a Stevie Nicks, this voice is achy breaky and oh so shaky. So at the final judgement - yay or neigh? Well if you can get into the vocals enough then this is worth persevering with, as the quality of the writing on soulful tracks like the standout ‘Shoot Back’, along with the sense of authenticity in the instrumentation elsewhere, becomes more apparent over time. Saddle up.

Review (The Soundboard) : As my personal first review of 2024, I’m already looking back (all too soon) to the past year to bring up a question: has country music ever felt more celebrated? Maybe it’s from the saloon bar whiskey-slingin’ bro country recalling laid back fun times, or indie hipsters’ newfound appreciation for country’s confessional nature, that has propelled it into the spotlight again. Maybe the legacy of Old Town Road is finally, and rightfully, surfacing. It’s probably a combination. But one thing’s for sure: the UK’s not quite showcased the country love of our transatlantic cousins. For all the tens of millions of Stateside listeners that indulge Carrie Underwood, Chris Stapleton or the new blood of Zach Bryan—all worthy of their accolades in a constantly-reinvented sound—us Brits aren’t quite so famed for it. That seems strange when the nation’s folk tradition impishly infiltrates all manner of overtly ‘British’ music. For one, that Noah and the Whale song, for all its tweeness, still collabed with the grossly overlooked Laura Marling, and you could argue folk’s homespun narrative lyricism is evident in Whatever People Say I Am…and its countless imitators. Richard Dawson’s music could’ve been made in the 19th century or even the 9th. But the country style itself has been hard to come by here. Until now, where we have Norwich’s Brown Horse. That’s less surprising, as East Anglia continues to put itself onto the map. Starting out as a folk quartet in 2018 (again, never a few degrees away from the roots of country), Brown Horse’s current six members teamed up only last year to refine their individually penned tunes. While dabbling originally in old time country standards, with Reservoir, the stylistic swings of acoustic strums, fiddles and ‘70s keys straddle the midground between Harvest and the critical darling sounds of bands like Wednesday, and it’s something that seems wholly self-referential. Opener Stealing Horses, a slow-tempo ballad that builds with biting guitar overdubs, celebrates an ol’ Appalachian country tradition handing its harmonica to the next generation of capable hands. The persona talks of an admiration for Jimmy Rodgers when their listener “weren’t even born”, instructing them to “steal my horse to ride”. On the more morose Paul Gilley, they celebrate the late eponymous country star that passed a young age by drowning. These tracks, and the amalgam of country styles that follow, make the case for the genre’s original heart and soul never going out of fashion. Stealing Horses marks a perfect introduction to pastoral scene setting, albeit being a little on the nose with the farmyard metaphor and showcasing an idiosyncratic vocal that’s an acquired taste. Partly like an Adrienne Lenker snivel, it takes some getting used to (and, please forgive me, evokes the Gogolala Jubilee Jugband from a hilarious Muppets sketch), with its most unintelligible moments braying over the title track. Repeated listens reward though, especially as Reservoir is a moody blend of fiddles and slide guitars that perfectly mimics the sound of whiling a day away. With an armoury of six talented heads chipping in to the songwriting process, layered vocals and noodling jam-band moments mark the album’s highest peaks. Bloodstain, not just boasting the best hook, is the closest Brown Horse dabble with the distorted, gritty alt-country that’s claiming album top spots. Walking basslines, crispy solos and keyboard tinkling sound loose and clinical at the same time, and it takes the ‘if you want a riff heavier, play it slower’ mantra of hardcore and metal into an all-new context. It’s great. Likewise, the keys of Shoot Back sound excellent, and drive into upbeat pastures that are in full bloom on Silver Bullet. Sunfisher is another perfect advert for the group’s synchronicity, granting breathing room for each instrumental to truly shine. And with closer Called Away instead sounding far more intimate and pared down, the troupe adeptly add colour when needed, and hold back when not, all testament to their hive mind chemistry. Considering its four-day recording session, Reservoir’s playing is assured, meaningful and the right level of improvisational to make for a breezy release in a UK country scene that is severely lacking. In ten years time we may well be thanking Brown Horse for lighting the kindling of a whole new wave of alt-country. Here’s to a welcome folky future.

Review (Americana UK) : ‘Stealing Horses’, which opens the album neatly sums up the evolution of Brown Horse from folk quartet to Country Rock powerhouse. Accordion mixed with Neil Young-style guitar, may sound like an uneasy combination, but the slightly unlikely blend produces a wall of sound that supports the singer and their words, in much the way that the best Cowboy Junkies songs do. Their press says that “the band acknowledges an indebtedness to the turn-of-the-millennium alt-country sounds of Uncle Tupelo, Silver Jews, Lucinda Williams, and Jason Molina, the songs on the album also resonate with the preceding “Last Waltz’” generation of seventies folk-rock artist,” which undersells the band badly. Yes, there are discernible influences, but they are assimilated into a unique sound. The title song, brings the folk instrumentation forward and pushes the howling guitar into the background, adding to the theme of desperation and loneliness that it speaks of. The song seems to give up, rather than actually ending which leaves the listener with a feeling of weary melancholy. The electric piano on recent single ‘Shoot Back’ reminds us that masters of the melancholy are The Delines, but Brown Horse are closing on them fast. ‘Shoot Back’ is “a questioning, frustrated kind of song. The lines in the chorus were based on something we heard someone say in a union branch meeting. It’s a pretty angry song in a lot of ways but there’s maybe some hopefulness mixed in there too”. A shift of sound to stately piano ballad arrives on ‘Everlasting.’ The spiky guitar solo punctuates the anthemic harmony vocals, and piano outro. ‘Paul Gilley’ is a tale of heartache set against the life of the songwriter, who drowned in 1957 at the age of twenty-seven, whose mother destroyed much of his work. The fiddle breaks that crop up in the middle of ‘Sunfisher’ is more of a scream in a “silence that rings like a bell”, rather than the that you might expect from the way the descending line is played. It’s the electric guitar and piano that dominate the driving ‘Silver Bullet’. You can almost hear the crowd noise over the sustained guitar note that fades away at the end. ‘Called Away’ closes the album with a more delicate country folk tune, with guitar distortion allowed to drift into the background’, behind the acoustic instruments. With a sizeable UK tour, currently in some fairly small venues but that could be about to change, coming up in the spring, and the positive press building Brown Horse could be the name to conjure with this year. Is it too early to talk about album of the year? Their Bandcamp page suggests they are “alt-country nobodies”. Not anymore.