You can’t beat recording in unlikely places rather than regular studios, can you? I mean, many of this writer’s favourite albums have been laid down in the unlikeliest of locations, from oast houses in Kent (The Only Ones’ first album) to lighthouses in Iceland (MuM) to sheep-shearing sheds in the wilds of Western Australia (The Triffids’ great “In The Pines”).
So personally this writer’s entirely behind the idea of fine Cardiff roots-y rockers LONE PINE setting up and recording direct to 8-track with no overdubs whatsoever in an old lock-up in Newport and getting 6 tremendous tracks down in one feverish twelve-hour session.
Ok, admittedly once you’ve embraced their slightly unorthodox (if probably practical) methodology, it helps that Lone Pine have the necessary quality material to their name as well and certainly this clutch of world-weary, tough’n’tender tunes suggests they could well be a force to be reckoned with over a period of time.
Opener “Jackie” gives you some idea of what to expect. It’s ragged, but defiantly glorious roots-flavoured rock’n’roll with Steve Honeywill’s anarchic lap steel flitting around beautifully and Daniel Catherall’s gravelly, lived-in vocals sounding like a terrific hybrid of heroes both Transatlantic (Jay Farrar, Paul Westerberg) and homegrown (Clayhill’s Gavin Clark).
A slew of further lovelorn vignettes such as the lonely and bruised “Women They Leave”, “Love Is Everything” and the crunchy, last-gasp rocker that is “Somethin’ Musta Changed” quickly prove Lone Pine know a thing or three about turning heartbreak and desolation into creative gold. Yes, a number of the obvious Alt.Country spectres do hover over the feast (not least Uncle Tupelo and Whiskeytown), but Lone Pine have an intuitive way of their own and know a good impassioned tune when they hear one, so the comparisons are never odious.
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Besides, they really pull out the stops on the closing pair “Hold On” and “Mum’s Shoes.” The former is a slower, semi-ballad with a likeably expectant arrangement and some spidery, Robbie Robertson-style lead guitar, while “Mum’s Shoes” is a 10-minute epic with the band reining in and letting out the throttle as required and tellingly never losing sight of the plot. Very good and surprisingly fat free for such a lengthy ride.
So not only do Lone Pine prove lock-ups ain’t just the preserve of dodgy dealers like Arthur Daley, but they should also be added to the steadily growing list of roots-rock acts who are proving the streets of provincial towns in the UK are every bit as relevant as the dust bowls and open spaces of the Midwest where heartbreak and impassioned, country-flavoured rock’n’roll are concerned.
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