JAMES YORKSTON AND THE ATHLETES : JUST BEYOND THE RIVER

JAMES YORKSTON AND THE ATHLETES : JUST BEYOND THE RIVER

Heron
Shipwreckers
Surf Song
Hermitage
Hotel
This Time Tomorrow
Banjo #1
We Flew Blind
Edward
Banjo #2
The Snow It Melts The Soonest

Label : Domino

Release Date : September 20, 2004

Length : 49:44

Review (Humo) : Je hebt cd's die je bij de eerste beluistering meteen omverblazen, en je hebt er die je langzaam bekruipen: bij de eerste kennismaking niet onaardig, de tweede maal knor je al eens goedkeurend en na de tiende beluistering vraag je je af waarom je de cd niet van de eerste keer fucking fantastic vond. 'Just beyond the River' van James Yorkston & The Athletes is zo'n mysterieuze, z'n schoonheid maar mondjesmaat prijsgevende plaat. In het repetitiehok van The Atletes struikel je ongetwijfeld over de accordeons, fiddles, bouzouki's en harmonica's, maar folkies mag je ze zeker niet noemen: voor Yorkston is folk - zoals country voor Will Oldham - maar de springplank naar een unieke sound, en liedjes die deugen. Nooit gedacht dat we bijvoorbeeld tranen in de ogen zouden krijgen bij een song over een reiger ('Heron'). Bijna alle teksten zijn röntgenfoto's van Yorkstons gebroken, pijnlijk kloppende hart. Maar hij wentelt zich niet in het verdriet, meer zelfs: het is opvallend hoe hij in de liefde blijft geloven. Zelfs als hij wordt afgewezen - 'omdat ze hem te koud en te weinig communicatief vindt' - kust hij nog haar schoenen: 'I may not be blessed, I may be way less, will I get the chance?' smeekt hij in 'Hermitage'. Onze andere favorieten zijn de schuifelende, onheilspellende traditional 'Edward', het als een vloedgolf de kade overspoelende 'Shipwreckers', het bijna ontsporende 'Banjo #1', waarin we voorwaar een bijtende Yorkston leren kennen, en de dromerige ballad 'Banjo #2' (yep, de titels zijn helaas iets minder geïnspireerd). Hoewel we niets aan de olympische prestaties van The Athletes afdoen, is Yorkston zélf de ster van 'Just beyond the River': die neuzelende, tussen de instrumenten meanderde stem, en vooral dat bedwelmende fingerpicking op banjo (2004 wordt stilaan het Jaar van de Banjo, zie bijvoorbeeld ook 'Seven Swans' van Sufjan Stevens) en gitaar: héérlijk. Het is dat we niet kunnen zwemmen, of we zaten al op de andere oever. En ú?

Review (Pitchfork) : If there's a new folk movement afoot, nobody told James Yorkston-- the old one seems to suit the Scottish singer/songwriter and his backing band, The Athletes, just fine. Songs such as the delicate, dirge-like "Banjo #2" and the gently wistful "Hotel" are redolent with both leaf-covered Celtic soil and voices that echo over the moors: Anne Briggs, Nick Drake, Fairport Convention. "The peat catches light," Yorkston observes, softly as ever, on the jig-like "Shipwreckers". Yorkston even came to prominence thanks to English folkie John Martyn, who played Moving Up Country on radio and brought the youngster on tour. Yet Yorkston isn't a traditionalist merely for tradition's sake. Like Sufjan Stevens' Seven Swans, Just Beyond the River is an artful, slow-building work-- with banjos! Whereas Stevens' latest makes Christianity safe for hipsterdom, Yorkston's record creates a bucolic, timeless world where magic remains a recent memory. What lies behind the river? For Yorkston, it's the terrifying present with its ever-shrinking family units and a lack of emotional solace casting a fraught shadow over even the most idyllic melody. Four Tet's Kieran Hebden produced the records and makes near-perfect use of Yorkston's deep voice, which sounds like sad-folkie Beck with a touch of Ray Davies lilt. The vocals lie just low enough beneath the John Fahey guitars, traditional bouzoukis, and occasional strings that it takes several listens for lyrics like, "Look beyond my need for clamor/ My clumsy touch and Catholic roving eye," to unwrap themselves like the gift they are. Honest, understated songwriting makes "Hermitage" one of this year's most poignant breakup songs: "Take your chances on the wide and open shores/ Pull together all your dreams and make them yours," Yorkston tells a lover who criticizes his coldness. The album winds to a close with "The Snow It Melts the Soonest", a track on which the tension between Yorkston's faerie realm and encroaching modernity finally explodes. Yorkston heroine Briggs recorded this traditional folk song a cappella, filling it with her delightfully unaffected melisma. In Yorkston's version, the tune drones, pounds, and jabbers in a language that somehow bridges the rest of the album to Hebden's work. It also leaves Yorkston's options tantalizingly open for his next album.

Review (Uncut) : For 2002’s excellent debut Moving Up Country, Yorkston installed ex-Cocteau Twin Simon Raymonde at the mixing desk. This time around, the telling enlistment of Kieran (Four Tet) Hebden as producer has resulted in a more lissom approach that adds soft lustre without sacrificing the intimacy of the previous record. Vocally, he’s closest to the autumnal weariness of Fence Collective team-mate Lone Pigeon, but the songs are as rounded as anything on John Martyn’s Bless The Weather. Teased out by accordion, “Shipwreckers”is typical, as is the fireside blush of “Surf Song”, but “Hotel” is the blackly enticing centrepiece, adorned with lovely drips of banjo and acoustic scrape.

Review (PopMatters) : Scotland’s James Yorkston is onto something special. His 2002 debut, Moving Up Country, was one of 2002’s best albums, full of stark, pastoral folk songs and romantic brooding. The title track of the following year’s Someplace Simple EP was Yorkston’s most charming composition to date. Now, with Just Beyond the River, he’s delivered his coziest set of songs yet. Make no mistake-like the best storytellers, Yorkston isn’t afraid to face the darker aspects of life and love; if anything, Just Beyond the River is less summery than anything he’s done before. But these songs crackle with the warmth of a fireside on a rainy autumn day. Yorkston is best at creating vignettes of intimate conversations and chance encounters that capture the delicate moments when relationships begin — or end. The bliss that was evident on Moving Up Country is here tempered by a dose of cold, hard realism, if not fatalism. “You excel at the ambush / I believe in you girl / And I want you”, Yorkston sings at the close of “Heron”, Just Beyond the River‘s first and most beautiful song. Gently picked guitar builds into a surging swell of accordion, and then everything goes quiet again. In a subtle way, the music mimics Yorkston’s own ambivalence. “Surf Song” is another highlight, finding a sense of peace in the moment, however fleeting it may be, as Yorkston and his new companion tell of their lives before they met. “You said you would not hear”, Yorkston says, “Of my life with some lady / who had cut deep in my heart / And you’d barely even scratch me / But I smiled and said, ‘It’s early days'”. The words ring strikingly true to anyone who knows how easy it is to be idealistic when love is new. “We Flew Blind” and the six-minute “Hotel” touch on similar themes. The latter, with banjo and acoustic guitar lightly nudging one another through a cycling rhythm, is so evocative you can almost see said hotel room, curtains and emotions fluttering as morning light creeps through the window. Not all of Just Beyond the River is so gentle. “Shipwreck” picks up the tempo and the sense of urgency, while “Banjo #1” is particularly disturbing and wrought with tension: “You told me you had slept with a quantity of men / You told me not all in a voluntary sense… You’re lucky you never knew me / As an angry young man / I’d raise my voice and holler / At the slightest of things”. Again, the music mirrors the words, this time with a stop-start arrangement and dissonant fiddle solo. The equally downbeat “Edward” is a Yorkston interpretation of a traditional song about murder. The production by current hot property Kieren Hebden (Four Tet, Beth Orton), is appropriately intimate. Whereas Moving Up Country had its jaunty moments, Just Beyond the River sticks to sparse, listing melodies and arrangements. The Athletes achieve emotional and musical impact with just banjo, accordion, fiddle and light percussion to back up Yorkston’s acoustic strumming. Everything is closely-mic’d, and a headphone listen reveals bits of hushed breathing, creaking stools and tapping feet. Like all singer-songwriters of distinction, Yorkston has his own manner of phrasing, giving the impression that all of the songs are related to one another. Any thoughts of self-absorbtion vanish in light of his heavily-accented, matter-of-fact delivery, which suggests that he’d be just as happy singing his songs to his trusted dog. If there’s any complaint, it’s that too often his voice doesn’t quite stand out from the mix. Overall, Just Beyond the River finds James Yorkston creating music that is steeped in deep tradition and full of the comfort that comes with honest self-expression. Call it aural comfort food; it’s good for the soul.