Still only 28 Willy Mason is increasingly sounding the old soul.
His third album, and first for new label Fiction, sees some of the
idealism, along with many of the rough edges of his earlier records
worked on like sanded wood. What’s left is smoother, warmer and perhaps a
little less charming. It’s polished maple, as opposed to folksy
whittling, and some may miss the wide-eyed wonder of his classic
‘Oxygen’. What we have in its place is an often accomplished, rather sad
set of songs presided over by a voice that is improving as it ages. If
he lives to be as old as Johnny Cash he’s going to sound amazing.
Produced by Hot Chip/MIA/Kylie collaborator Dan Carey, you’d be forgiven
for expecting something substantially more upbeat, but the overarching
feel here is one of sadness, and a quiet longing. Carey creates lovely,
subtle beds for Masons solid-oak voice, using a combination of acoustic
drum boxes and understated electronica, while Mason keeps things simple,
usually with strummed acoustic guitar and quiet rumble of bass. It’s a
far more elegant approach than either 2004’s Where The Humans Eat or 2006’s If The Ocean Gets Rough.
Early press for the record promised a departure with 'dub and reggae'
influences, which is overstating things somewhat - Mason rarely strays
from the forms of blues, folk and country, despite the playful, choppy
percussion. The one notable exception - and the record's clear highlight
- is the mesmerising six minutes of ‘Restless Fugitive’, which does
features a swaying, dubby bass over a sparse beat, and spidery, reverby
guitars. The effect is something akin to Think Tank-era Blur
covering the Clash’s ‘Bank Robber’. It has a solid, compelling groove,
deceptively simple and rather wonderful. It’s easily the best thing
Mason has put his name to since ‘Oxygen’.
Jan 30, 2013
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