EWR1 –James Green – Tempers –
Reviews
Sonumu website
A mini-album of maximal
pleasure. For his first solo CD, James Green
presents fourteen pieces, none longer than two minutes, and all apparently
captured on tape with the first or second take. Each is an elegant, unflawed
pearl coaxed out of his acoustic guitar, nearly Satiean in simplicity of execution and depth of expression.
Both the playing and the mood hearken back to the English folk revival of the
early sixties, but the feeling is timeless. Gentle, winsome
tunes which do indeed invoke the cosy melancholy of early
winter.
Losing Today
Magazine
Wide open spaces,
the rolling hills of nature’s green quilt fencing off a picturesque village
hideaway of rows upon rows of century old thatched cottages untouched by
commercialism, uncluttered and detached from the hustle and bustle of the fast
lane. The tranquillity broken momentarily by the sound of the
local church bell marking another day no different from any other day where
calm, well being and the simple life are the order of things. These are
the images conjured by ‘Tempers’.
Another of those ultra limited CD
releases. This time
only 250 pressings of this delicate debut for Sheffield’s newly installed Early
Winter Recordings whose aim it is with future outings is to release a host of
neo psychedelic / free folk artists into the public domain.
Housed in a
dainty hand painted slipcase ‘Tempers’ is the debut solo release for label owner
James Green he of the Big Eyes themselves regular featurettes of these pages. ‘Tempers’ consists of fourteen
improvised compositions recorded between May / June of
last year on a classical / nylon string guitar. Each composition was recorded
within two takes; any tracks failing that self-imposed proviso were excluded
immediately from the recordings. No track titles I’m afraid but fans of Big Eyes
will notice the contrast in sounds immediately. Whereas Big Eyes are better
known for their noire-ish symphonies, Green lightens
the moods with these delicate though brief rustic adventures into an unworldly
rural life.
The amazing thing
about this release is that despite there being no lyrics, no mixing trickery
where subtle atmospherics are incorporated, it’s frailty and sparseness are
overt, bear in mind that Green is only armed with a lone classical guitar and
that’s your lot, then what he manages to achieve is quite remarkable, that
feeling of warmth and depth that strikes at odds when you consider the bare
naked confines of the recording process. Reference wise the drifting appeal of
John Williams and John Fahey are by and large apparent the latter so ably
apparent on Track 3 while the former best served on the thoughtfully tranquil
Track 9 and the delectable slow burning closing cut. Fans of Charlie Parr, the
Relict, Low and the early material by Death Cab for Cutie will not go wanting
while the purists among you will swoon. Green deliberately keeps from over
elaborating, each of the cuts here barely stretch beyond 2.40 (with the
exception of the clockwork like dynamics on Track 12 at 4.02) by keeping it as
such the spectral appeal of the melodies don’t out stay their welcome and prove
to conjure enough nimble allure to keep the most casual spectator in awe. Exquisite stuff.
Plan B
Magazine
Tempers’ cover is
a delicate lino-print of flowers and a windmill, reminiscent of Thirties British
pastoral art. The music treads a similar ground between experimental and
traditional, and it’s a luminescent, shadowy, magical ground.
Green recorded
Tempers on a two-track last summer, and the resonant
warmth of wood and strings echoes a sense-memory of sunbeams through a slanted
window. It starts with a chromatic strangeness and restless intervals, and hits
pockets of conventional melody and blues before dancing back into abstraction
again. Green uses the guitar’s upper register and its fragile, creepy timbre to
create a weirdly modest and suggestive sonic space that bypasses the slightly
autistic nature of much acoustic guitar playing to produce something beautifully
ephemeral. Oh, this music breathes like a breeze blowing your bright blue dress
on the washing line.