Keiron Phelan: Peace Signs
Gare du Nord Recordings

A shame Nick Lowe nabbed the Pure Pop For Now People title all those years ago, as it certainly would have been a proper choice for this extraordinary exercise in folk-pop songcraft from Keiron Phelan of State River Widening, Smile Down Upon Us, and littlebow renown. Such projects present him as more instrumentalist than crooner, but on this new outing he proves himself to be a more-than-passable singer: imagine if you will a blend of Bowie, Bolan, Ian Hunter, Richard Hawley, Kevin Ayers, Leonard Cohen, and Morrissey and you'll have a pretty good impression of his delivery.

The album's pitched as a “Hunky Dory kind of platter,” and though that's certainly a credible characterization, others are also possible. One could, for instance, hear it as a rather Beatles-esque collection when its pop material confidently shape-shifts like some modern-day Abbey Road. Regardless, Phelan's certainly got a way with a melody, every song, it seems, elevated by an enticing hook or two. Those melodies, by the way, hit just as hard when presented in instrumental (flute, more often than not) as vocal form; don't be surprised to find them swirling in your head long after the disc's done.

Peace Signs is the kind of album that gets better with every listen. At first your attention is drawn to the stylistic breadth and melodies, but with repeated exposure the appreciation shifts to the arrangements and Phelan's fine-tuned sensitivity to instrument timbres. He tackles all kinds of subject matter in the eleven songs (hippie girlfriends, Japanese satellites, etc.), but truth be told your attention'll likely be so centered on the sound design you'll hardly notice the songs' lyrics, during initial run-throughs anyway. Though the album's issued as a Phelan release, it's hardly a solo effort, with the leader (vocals, acoustic guitar, flute) augmented by Jenny Brand (piano, organ, clarinet), James Stringer (organ, harpsichord, clavinet, electric piano, muted trumpet), Katie English (cello), and Ian Button (drums), among others.

It grabs you right away when entrancing flute riffs, harp sweetening (by Phelan's littlebow colleague Brona McVittie), and vocal hooks (“How long, how long, how long does her bad luck run?”) distinguish “New Swedish Fiction” and doesn't let up until the elegant, Chaucer-influenced closer “Canterbury” appears ten songs later. Reminiscent of the pop experimentalism of Smile and Pet Sounds, “Apple Shades” exudes the kind of ornate exoticism that would do Brian Wilson proud, especially when the arrangement's assembled from harpsichord, cello, flute, and other acoustic elements. With Jack Hayter's shimmering pedal steel along for the ride, the lighthearted jaunt “Country Song” impresses as one of the album's more charming entries, and there are also whimsical romps (“Song For Ziggy”) and infectious sing-alongs (“Hippy Priest”).

Phelan's songwriting command is evident throughout. Consider, for instance, the way he hypnotically mirrors an ascending-and-descending, triplet-styled melody (voiced by Phelan and Angèle David-Guillou) with vocal counterpoint in “Mother To Daughter Poem” and how wonderfully the arrangement's enhanced by flute, harp, and clarinet. Perhaps the most potent song, hooks-wise, is “Satellite Hitori,” which mesmerizes with a sinuous flute melody and its “My little Satellite Hitori / Gone so far from me” vocal line. Mix in organ accents, gorgeous backing vocals, harp plucks, and a tribal drum pulse and you've got something that if there were any justice would be dislodging the latest flavour-of-the-month from the top of the charts. Peace Signs impresses on so many levels, you'd be forgiven for exiting the recording wondering why Phelan's not a better-known property in pop circles.

November 2018