JAMES YORKSTON & THE ATHLETES : MOVING UP COUNTRY

1. In Your Hands
2. St. Patrick
3. Sweet Jesus
4. Tender To The Blues
5. Moving Up Country, Roaring The Gospel
6. Cheating The Game
7. I Spy Dogs
8. Is Just Way Too Early
9. The Patience Song
10. I Know My Love

Label : Domino

Release Date : June 4, 2002

Length : 49:19

Review (AllMusic) : Moving up Country might not warrant the extravagant praise heaped on it by the up-and-down English music press, but it's certainly an album that stands out. Its lazy, meandering songs, mixing English folk and American country, sound fitfully out of place in the modern world, hearkening back far more to the hippie sensibilities (both musical and lyrical) of the late '60s or early '70s. But the ramshackle charm catches right from the opener, "In Your Hands," and though it lets up a bit on the more up-tempo material, it never vanishes completely. Yorkston himself has more than a touch of Ray Davies in his voice, although his writing style is much less succinct and witty, tending toward rambling thoughts over repeating chord structures with a fairly organic backing (i.e., no programming involved). Maybe part of its appeal is that everything old becomes new again, or maybe it's just happy coincidence, but the album is a small pleasure, a lovely way to pass a slow, sunny afternoon.

Review (The Line Of Best Fit) : James Yorkston emerged from East Fife’s Fence Collective in the late ’90s, and the retired punk who gave his ears a rest would seem an unlikely torchbearer for the British folk revival. While his former compadres Kenny Anderson (King Creosote) and brother Gordon (Lone Pigeon, The Beta Band and more recently The Aliens) went on to craft beautiful pop songs tinged with folk-psychedelia, the Scottish artist has patiently chipped away in more traditional musical surroundings. Unplugging his guitar to support people like Bert Jansch and John Martyn, early blessings from renowned DJ John Peel and a deal struck with indie heavyweights Domino Records all helped to secure the release of James Yorkston And The Athletes’ Moving Up Country in 2002. Since then, he’s produced a string of acclaimed albums, most recently Folk Songs in 2009, a collection of other artists’ songs which does exactly what it says on the tin. Domino are now re-issuing Yorkson’s debut in its 10th anniversary year, with a bonus CD of additional recordings along with the vintage Peel session he made at the time. Moving Up Country was possibly a victim of its own proflicacy: with the band holed up in a remote Scottish Borders cottage for several weeks, no doubt supping on the local brew, recording sessions proved very fruitful indeed. Throwing it all together in one package is a smart move by Domino, reminding us what Yorkston was all about in the first place. The various country and folk influences aren’t hard to spot and the wispy plaintive tones not a million miles from Nick Drake, but the real magic here is in the freewheeling quality of the songs. Opener ‘In Your Hands’, for example, is the sonic equivalent of spending a hot summer’s day curled up in the shade with a book and a glass of wine (or something even better!), singer and band gently spinning us a yarn: “Never felt last evening that by this afternoon/Only way of thinking when I’m talking about you/Now it’s lovely to be here/Why don’t you sit me down and tell me all your plans/I’ve got it all worked out, I’m in your hands/Rolling down the grass slopes, by the side of the park/Forgetting all this morning’s hopes of getting you home by dark/though it’s lovely to be here/The sonic world comes the runners, dogs and the cars/But we’re in yesterday’s world and the moment still is ours/Why don’t you lift me down and tell me all your plans/I’ve got it all worked out and I’m in your hands.” The Drake legacy is safe in Yorkston’s hands; the warm tinkling piano and acoustic guitar on ‘St Patrick’, for example, giving way to celtic fiddle with a spring in the step which puts you in mind of a Scottish ceilidh. Kenny Anderson’s accordion soothes a lot of the songs on Moving Up Country, evoking a kind of lazy riverboat feeling, like Mark Twain on a Mississippi steamer watching the world go by. There’s something of Bert Jansch and Pentangle on ‘Sweet Jesus’, repeated patterns building rapidly to the refrain as the singer rushes headlong into love: “As I believe in fate and you’re a sucker for the stars/I’m sure we’ve got sweet Jesus on our side/Singing sweet sweet Jesus and she’ll be mine”. You always get the feeling the chief protagonist is heading for a fall, although Yorkston intended ‘Tender To The Blues’ as a response to the blues rather than wallowing in it. He likens the song to Jackson C. Frank’s classic ‘Running With The Blues’, and there’s certainly a warm melody accompanying its beautiful melancholy heart. The album’s title piece ‘Moving Up Country, Roaring The Gospel’ extends the summer drift as the singer nurtures another troubled romance in drunken exuberance. Anderson’s accordion is all alone at the end of the song as we’re left with a quiet moment to savour. ’6.30 Is Just Way Too Early’ pleads with us to believe it’s a crisp December morning, but I’m having none of it. ‘I Spy Dogs’ tweaks the pace slightly and ‘I Know My Love’ evokes the spirit of cherished folkies past and present. Experimental piece ‘The Lang Toun’ (= long tune?) bucks the trend slightly, with 10 minutes of sprawling kraut-folk, Can meets Pentangle, hinging on a bagpipe drone which conjurs up thick Scotch mist. It wasn’t included in the original album, so is a welcome addition in this package. The demos on the bonus CD sound promising but lack the sparkle that Simon Raymonde’s production gives to the original album. ‘My Distance Travelled’ has that hang-back feeling of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Albatross’, while ‘Easily Led’ is more upbeat ’70s Moody Blues or Procol Harum. ‘Saviour A Saving’ is stream-of-consciousness to the slightly Dylanesque ‘Worthy Souls’, both sounding like something from The Beta Band’s ill-fated eponymous debut in 1999. There’s easily an extra mini-album’s worth of ramshackle charm here, but these songs only highlight the Cocteau Twins’ crucial role in decongesting Yorkston’s early sound. Only ‘Catching Eyes’ would seem to “fit” the lazy summer template but they’d probably got their full quota by that stage. The Peel session fares slightly better with some beautiful renditions which enhance the album. ‘St Patrick’ is slower and stripped-down, the basic piano and guitar accompaniment deliciously iced over, this time with fiddle and harmonica, another highlight. ‘Tender To The Blues’ is darkened with piano, and sounds more like Radiohead’s ‘Pyramid Song’ than any kind of folk balladeering. ‘La Magnifica’ (which appeared on the b-sides collection Roaring The Gospel released in 2007) is also full of deathly pauses, while ‘Moving Up Country’, in contrast, is positively sprightly. John Peel dubbed Yorkston “the finest singer of his generation”, an encouragement which proved to be a great spur to Yorkston, and these versions have taken on a historical perspective since the indie titan DJ’s untimely death in 2004. James Yorkston was never going to be Scotland’s answer to label-mate Bonnie Prince Billy, but this warts’n’all package from Domino Records is a gentle reminder of the songwriter’s strengths and depths before his next scheduled release. Like many before him, Yorkston wrestles with the idea of making traditional kinds of music relevant to the present day. Chip away honestly and purposefully at something and you’ll be rewarded for your endeavours with a beautiful sculpture in amongst all the wood chippings. James Yorkston is still the ship’s captain on Moving Up Country, even if he did retire for a nap, so best lie back and enjoy it in the spirit intended … with a wee dram!

Review (Drowned In Sound) : It’s a frustrating feeling to sense hopeful glimpses of future genius, only to have your expectations dashed when you realise what you’re listening to is merely mediocre, at best adequate. So is the story with this debut album from Scot nu-country acoustic botherer James Yorkston. While his upbringing in the self-confessed ‘make-your-own-music’ desolation of a small village in Fife has undoubtedly shaped the rich and beautifully arranged nature of ‘Moving Up Country’, it’s a double-edged sword. Because, lost in the tranquil splendour of Scotland, the final results are earnest, definitely, but just a little too nice, whimsical and, ultimately, largely forgettable. Unlike the way that coming from Southport (instead of the US of A) was a positive influence on Gomez’s career, James Yorkston’s critics would almost certainly be queuing for, ahem, a country mile to sing gibbering praise, if only he had been born on the other side of the Atlantic. Unfortunately ‘Moving Up Country’ lacks the magic on show from darker American peers like Smog or Will Oldham, and has none of the inspired quirkiness that sets apart the finger-picking eclectic wares of fellow Gaelic troupe Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci. Still, expect to see James on the next Reindeer Section album anyhow, seeing as he’s Scottish and indie and all.

Review (RTE) : Described as a "legend in the bars of Edinburgh" on his press release, after savouring James Yorkston's debut you'll spend the next couple of days wondering why the ale suppers didn't lock the doors and try and keep him all to themselves. Folky without ever being fuddy, Yorkston recalls his experiences of love, the road and where he's stopped-off along the way. There are choruses to sing for on the title track and 'Patient Song', numbers that take longer to grow like 'Tender is the Blues' and '6.30 is Way Too Early' and even two foot stompers in 'I Spy Dogs' and 'I Know My Love'. Thousands of men with acoustic guitars and a few busted romances release albums every year, but this is the one that you really have to own.

Review (NME) : James Yorkston is a folk musician from Fife. Realistically, this suggests that the only way he’d usually make it into the pages of NME was if he smacked one of The Strokes over the head with a banjo. But his debut album, ‘Moving Up Country’, sweetly but firmly demolishes your preconceptions. Unusually, ‘The Lang Toun’ – the fantastic ten-minute Krautfolk drone that introduced James Yorkston earlier this year – is absent. Instead, we find Yorkston singing about women and booze – but mostly, women – while his band, The Atheletes add the swoonsome, flowery folk trimmings in the background. It ain’t rocket science: just the very welcome sound of a country boy made good.