Album Review: Adam Walton - Afal

 

There's an old, dismissive and slightly arrogant saying about those in the teaching profession:

Those who can, do..those who can't, teach. 

If you try hard enough, you can almost hear Alan Partridge saying it in an ill-conceived attempt to present The East Anglia Teaching Awards. It's often wheeled out by those wishing to look down their noses at someone who has just as much - perhaps even more - influence on the lives of their children than they do. 

In a slightly different context, the work of the music journalist is often seen as the work of someone who couldn't do music very well. I'm an example - albeit a small one - as I was in a couple of bands that did naff all and now I write about better bands for scant reward; makes you wonder why really...Anyway, there is a point to this introduction other than perpetuating my own existential angst. Honest.

 There are music journalists who can co-exist in their own musical world without the nature of their musical talent being questioned - John Robb is certainly one that springs to mind. It's also a description that could easily fit for Adam Walton. 

   📷 Gail Watt

Many of you will know Adam for his 30 year career on BBC Radio Wales - a constant torchbearer for new Welsh talent of all genres on his Saturday night slot. He has also made his own music; his band The Immediate could easily have been swept up in the 90s' 'Cool Cymru' tidalwave given a bit more luck. Life got in the way and it was nearly 20 years later untill the band returned, reforming more out of a need to reignite old friendship flames than any other lofty ambition.   

The new solo album Afal follows on from his Cloudburst E.P released earlier in the year. Walton was intrigued by Beck's Seachange album when he was writing it and was adamant when coming into the recording process that he wanted to "..preserve as much humanity and natural grain in them as possible.". He went about that by minimising the number of takes and resisting studio tricks like Autotune.   

'Rain On My Parade' therefore, is not the big, grand show-stopping Barbera Streisand number that the name may suggest. In fact, that might just be the point. The acoustic guitar is brittle in it's infancy with the vocals matching the introverted thought processes of the lyrics: I like to chase the clouds/with noone else around. The delicate picking allows for plenty of space for Walton's withdrawn vocals to take on a life on their own. It shows a keen ear for the techniques and abilities of Elliot Smith and E from The Eels. The contradictory shift from wanting to be left alone early on to: I want to see your scenes/be where you have been perfectly summing up the introvert's dilemma.

The power of 'Emily Said (On Account Of The Days' lies in the beautifully played classical guitar chord structure; it's as clean and crisp as you can get and elicits similar feelings in me as Love's 'Old Man' manages to. There's more nods to the 60s' with single 'Mary Sees UFOs', which adds a more trippy, psychedelic element to proceedings. The intro is cut from the same cloth as 'Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds' before shifting into a Syd Barrett like delusion that is ultimately other-worldly and dreamy to comprehend.

A consistent element of the album is the small soundscapes that punctuate the fully formed songs around them; often creating a springboard for those songs to flourish. They come across as off-kilter experiments with sound, creating different moods as they wash over you. Opener '#01' for example, creates a sense of unease and trepidation about what is to follow, it could easily be used as a warning to a unpleasant moment in a horror film; whereas '#04' is more jovial, giving an impression of playful surrealism. Walton himself is keen to stress these moments are just as valid as any of the songs around them, with typical self-deprecating candour: "To my mind, the instrumental sketches interspersed throughout the album are just as important as the songs, but the songs aren't all that important anyway, so it's a moot point.."

'Blinded by Headlights' has it's roots in a more upbeat melancholy, perhaps finding solace in the likes of 'Sunny Afternoon' by The Kinks. The lyrics sound like a plea to ensure that a relationship doesn't dissipate under the weight of expectation and larger barriers of seperation: Your periscope eyes rarely saw mine/We're submarines passing in the night. Later in the record, 'Foreveryou' is more an implicit love song that is also a thank you note, playing out to an unconventional allignment of chords - it feels like both tracks are more confessional in their lyrical approach than Walton had allowed us to hear previously.

 

Beginning with a sample of a recording of one in full voice, 'Goldfinch' looks to emulate the intricate weaving of melodies of the bird at it's most beautiful. I'm not convinced about the tunings, but to this untrained ear, the guitars resemble Pink Moon era Nick Drake and succeeds in it's delicate aims. The desolate, almost eerie 'The Moon and The Stars' heralds in the end of the album with Walton in a pensive mood, creating evocative descriptions of barren landscapes and wild seas as he longs to be close to another: I will sail on the Moon and the Stars/All I want is where you are. 

Afal is an album that attempts to articulate and revel in the realities of the aging process. Influenced by loss and the responsibilities of everyday life, but also that need to keep the creative cogs turning, as the physical need to slow down becomes more apparent. It doesn't shy away from hard topics, but allows itself to get carried away on flights of fancy as an escape - the cornerstone of good teaching. 

You can follow Adam Walton on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

As well as a digital release, Afal is available on vinyl, with a limited edition release of 300 copies. As ever we recommend you buy from his Bandcamp page - preferably on Bandcamp Friday - to maximise royalties for the artist.