'In this world of movers and shakers and pigeon hole makers the froth they peddle blows halfway around the world before common sense has got its boots on. For my part, every album, every gig, every song is a counterblast to this froth.' So writes Chris Wood in the sleeve notes to The Lark Descending. And every word, every moment of the album resounds with a measured majesty. The songs on here won't deliver sugar-rush thrills, but they do make up a masterpiece by an artist at the peak of his powers.
Chris Wood is the English fiddler, guitarist and singer who came to light in a duo with Andy Cutting, has subsequently played with Wood, Wilson, Carthy and now joins Robert Harbron and John Dipper in the English Acoustic Collective. Several years in the making, The Lark Descending is his debut solo album. Like most classics, it doesn't outstay its welcome at just eight tracks, but maintains a coherence and quality that can easily be lost in a longer recording.
Opening track 'Hard' is one of three original Wood compositions, introducing his slightly odd but enticing voice and sparse guitar style. An affectionate portrait of his daughter, its soft humour and precise lyrical references are endearing, and what could have easily descended into schmaltz is instead touching. 'Bleary Winter,' the first of two songs authored by playwright Hugh Lupton, is for me the finest song on the album. The idea of the land slowly uncurling and awakening from the ravages of a long winter is perfectly encapsulated in Wood's beautifully unfolding melody.
At the core of the album though are the twinned epics, 'Lord Batemen' and 'One in a Million,' clocking in at nearly seventeen minutes between them. The first is Wood's influential arrangement of the traditional song, the second Lupton's modern day ballad set in a chip shop. Despite the years dividing their composition, the parallels between the two are clear. As well as sharing a character by the name of Bateman, both feature would-be lovers whose patience is finally rewarded, an appropriate theme for such an unhurried album. 'Million' is tenderly old fashioned, and is absolutely lovely in the context of the album, but 'Lord Bateman' slightly takes the edge, its inspired arrangement for guitar and voice reminiscent of a Martin Carthy ballad albeit with a softer edge. It is much to Wood's credit that he can place two such lengthy songs together and hold the listener spellbound throughout.
Of course, such high standards can cut both ways, and it is hard not be disappointed by 'Our Captain Calls,' a version of the heartbreaking traditional song that fails to really take off despite some fine violin playing, and has been done much better by Julie Murphy (as 'Fighting for Strangers' on Lilac Tree.) Of course this is soon forgotten as the opening strains of 'John Barleycorn' are heard. Based on Martin Carthy's version, this performance now feels definitive, despite the song's current popularity. Far from the glibness the song could invite, Wood brings a solemn dignity to what he calls 'the passion of the corn.' The only thing that is missing is the cracking of sticks from Morris Offspring, who dance to the English Acoustic Collective performing this arrangement!
As well as 'Hard,' the other two solo Wood compositions are 'Albion' and 'Walk This World.' Lyrically more opaque than the others, they also feature more complex arrangements with Wood overdubbing fiddles and subtle electric guitar (although they sound so organic, I initially assumed they were played by other musicians.) 'Albion,' built on plucked fiddle strings, tells the true story of finding a suicide victim and expands this into a cry against feeling alienated in one's own country, ending with the refrain, 'Albion I'm homesick now / Though I live in the town I was born' and a fading violin coda. In light of the rest of the album, closer 'Walk This World' comes as some surprise, being a rather grand affair with at least two fiddles, electric guitar and even massed vocals on the closing chorus (again, all courtesy of Wood on this strictly solo outing.) But the song more than earns it, being as much a treatise on the integral role of music to humanity as it is a simple song to be sung whilst wassailing.
And so The Lark Descending concludes, leaving the listener entranced by its mastery. With all the excitement about the promise of youth in the English folk scene, it is more reassuring to hear one of the younger generation step up to claim his place alongside the greats with this mature and incredibly powerful album.
Look up Chris Wood's early album with Andy Cutting, Knock John on the Green Man Review for starters, then proceed to Wood's homepage on the English Acoustic Collective's Web site.
