I’ve been here before, in this place, when all around me is chaos, when the day to day goings on of all that surrounds me is a maddening, frenetic race that nobody ever wins. I’ve seen all this before, all the frantic chasing around that defines modern life, and I know that I don’t like it, and I know that this will provide the perfect antidote to it all, I know that when I slip this collection of lush, sweet, achingly beautiful, yet menacingly dramatic lullaby’s, epiphanies and swansongs into the player I will be ushered away from the madness and the chaos into a world of calm and respite where even the bad days are tempered with a little positivity, hope and confidence. I know that the warming arms or reassurance will collect all my hopes and fears into their tight embrace and put right all that is wrong, I know this, I know it well.
The delicate harmonies, the fragile melodies, the glints of light shining through the inner city murkiness and most importantly the hope, yeah, the hope, that’s what it’s all about – well, it’s all still there, only this time, it’s a little more intense, the delivery is that bit more secure, this is an artist taking what he does best and working through it all perfectly. It’s impossible to know whether these songs just come naturally or whether it’s something that he has to invest many hours perfecting, if it’s the former then it’s a god given blessing, if it’s the latter, well, then he knows what he is doing, and he is doing it well.
Leaving S.F. opens the record, it’s a swooning, gliding instrumental, the sort of song that you hear in your head when you are on a plane or a train, plugged into your iPod, whilst the word goes about its business and you slip, slowly into dreams, into thoughts of home and where you’ll be soon.
This is followed up with the real album opener The Last Word, it’s a shimmering, towering block of acoustic thrum, totally stripped back to the bare necessities which builds and builds to a thrilling crescendo, replete with guitar lines, balancing on the edge of control that rip open the cold dark skies of the city. After the gentle, soothing prelude, this songs really makes you sit up and listen, this isn’t supposed to be an easy ride, this is far from AOR coffee table pomposity, it’s battered and bruised, it’s fragile and flawed, but it’s here, and it’s going to make you listen to what it has to say.
Drowning and Audrey consolidate what is already a stunning opening to this record with tales of love and loss, of the inability to cope which is suppressed by a desire to appear on top of it all, the stiff upper lip, the male reserve, don’t let them see you cry, don’t let them know that there is a chink in your armour. The emotions laid bare are ones that we can all identify with, we have all felt these things, we all know of the chances that we didn’t take, of the opportunities we lost, of the beautiful girl on the exotic holiday island that we never pursued.
"...I want to be your soulmate, I want to be the song stuck in your head, glitter in your eye like stars stuck to sky, yeah, you were mine in summertime, yeah, you were mine..."
What would be side two of this album opens in a similar manner to the first section with Littlest Waltz, it’s a hazy, lazy, dreamy and drifty lilting melody that rather than bringing you down to earth sends you up into the stratosphere and leaves you floating there amongst the clouds.
‘Til the Morning Comes Around is a stuttering, swaggering, upbeat experiment in self preservation, disbelief and optimism, and is chased up neatly by Christmas on Ward #7, without doubt one of the highlights of the album.
"Christmas..." is a piano lead ballad that is worthy of the admission price alone, the story within, again, is one with which we can all identify with – as long as we are being honest with ourselves. It’s not often a record comes along that really speaks to me on the level, a record that is a peer, a friend and a confidant, a record that knows me inside out, and a record that I know equally, but this is one such record. The aching beauty of Kingston Bridge, and this track in particular makes all the chaos of everyday life better, it soothes you, it holds you and it makes you understand that everything will be o.k, maybe things won’t be perfect, but they’ll be o.k, and sometimes we just have to accept that as the best that we can do.
"...I didn't see the christmas lights, I started seeing red fighting losing battles with the voices in my head I'm holding onto next year praying that it comes real soon I'm holding onto next year praying that it comes real soon..."
The album heads towards home with the sub-country strum of R+J a song that compares the characters involved to the starcrossed lovers of Shakespeares classic, revisiting the lap steel adds presence, body and emotion to what is yet another fine example of saying it like it really is. We have all been in these situations, we all sit here and say, “yeah, I know what he means” but it takes a special talent to actually put these feelings down on tape, to commit to posterity a picture of modern life as it really is lived. Closing track Take the
Money and Run searches out a more electronic route, yet brings us back full circle to the airplane flight of the opening sweeps of aural delight, here the plots and plans of a suicidal airliner pilot are debated, and how the actions that bring us to the end can be so exhilarating, so intense and so revealing. So much so that perhaps it is inevitable that you can only experience these things once in your life, and that is right at the end.
chris flew has put together a set of songs that reaches deep down into the confines of your heart, of your gut feelings and your most suppressed emotions and drags them all clear of the fray, that reminds you about what really matters, they remind you that outside of the fray, the madness, the frantic comings and goings of the daily grind there is a life worth living, and it’s worth living to the full.
"...I remember the stars and the sirens as the trucks raced out across the tarmac waiting for a plane to never land.
I held your hand, like it would have made a difference, if someone would listen, or even take the time to understand. But I'm not that man..."
In a word, beautiful.
Johnny Mac - Friends Of The Heroes (Apr 2006)