This very generous album of poetic murder ballads and chilling sensations is heavy on symbolism and rich in musical maturity. It has nine exceptional songs and one gracious interlude. It offers 45 minutes of dense and engaging music.
It says "debut album" somewhere in the notes. But "The Devil And I" is the kind of album that would make you pause and wonder if you had missed some earlier releases. LONE WOLF has been captured here in mid-stride, already flawless in his own distinct creative process. It is all here, perfectly formed.
To be frank, there is a depraved delight in hearing the album repeatedly, reconstructing Paul Marshall's psychological and relational history from the tortured narratives. The beautifully polished surfaces gleam with refractions of their rotten interiors: a compelling landscape of blood vessels, exhumed bones and torn-out hearts. Cries of despair, vengeance and ungiven solace are carried in perfect, intricate melodies by a hypnotically gentle, beautifully enunciated voice. To fully hear it you must first drown in it.
Opening song "This Is War" could be from the period when The Beatles had just recorded Eleanor Rigby, with the female as centre, no drums until two minutes in, and no guitars at all. Lone Wolf's song could be Paul's tune, John's psyche and mother/lover/Narcissus as the object of its lust and revolt. The track selected as a single "Keep Your Eyes On The Road" is the big crowd pleasing production number that follows, giving duplicitous reassurance should any waverer feel ill at ease. It dances and grins, laughing at death as it drives on, pausing for doubt only to rush off in a flurry of guitar picking and bubbling, overdubbed vocals: "I lay staring at your innocent skin wondering how I fucked this up, but I surely did".
"We could use your blood" is next. Is it an ode to the placenta? It dwells on the possibilities and vital sources of regeneration in hard, shrivelled times. "Buried Beneath The Tiles" then opens with dread urgency, like the expensive soundtrack of a big-budget psychological crime thriller. The lyrics sketch out the parameters of a mysterious plot, rich enough to encourage a Fellini, and scary enough to chill the marrow.
15 letters is an off-kilter country kind of song with added psychoanalytic glee. The tune is superbly turned and the lyric is a delight "The moon is on its back tonight", "We're sorry, but there's nothing to remove this tattoo from your brain". It’s a song of revenge. The Handsome Family would have been proud …
And then, with sumptuous orchestration, the piano intermezzo of The Devil And I (Part 1) bisects what might be called the female and the male halves of the album/psyche/history. Its nervously waltzing piano theme is embellished with a cello line that could have come from Taverner. A huge bass drum sounds a funeral to all doubt and the cello finds its lowest notes. Where the female had been ascendant, the songs that follow have a more assertive maleness. "The girls were dressed in razor wire to keep them from the rogues", he sweetly sings. It's all the more shocking for sounding so pure. X and Y chromosomes, the small talk of dinner parties and pretty pregnancies are suddenly raw and exposed.
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Beyond that song ("Russian Winter") the death march of "Soldiers" is a fully male anthem, cruel and childlike. It has (amazingly) a very pretty tune. "Dead River" is environmental heroism in the face of doom. It has the bravado of a whistled section followed by a church organ of solemnity that reminds us of that intermezzo and paves the way for the stark lyric of "The Devil And I (Part 2)". This tells us of a life ruined by love and egotism, sifted through like finely rendered ashes being combed for lost clues and squandered redemption. Its finale rolls out in a cavernous sonic space with huge drums and disturbing architecture, both grand and terrifying.
Recovery time needs to be added once the album has ended. If you have played it very loud (you should). I would suggest a least two minutes of silence after the last reverberations. Beware. The weird Wolf might have taken out your heart.
The splendid recording and production needs its own mention. Most of the album was recorded in Uppsala in Sweden by Kristofer Jönson, using a range of sonorous field locations and a swathe of talented Scandinavian musicians on trumpet, flugelhorn, French horn, violin, viola, cello and vocals. These are not just prettifying backing tracks, but careful arrangements by Marshall and Jönson, adding prominent and meaningful parts. James Kenosha completed the recording process and mixed the album back in Bridlington. Taken together, it's a recording that will have few equals this year. It is astonishingly good.
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