Another EP-sized collection of tunes from indie singer/songwriter Daniel Gannaway, Joined Like Notes brings us a few numbers that either came after his last releases, Summer Storm and Heading For Country, or didn’t quite meet those two collections’ stylistic parameters. With no such limits placed on it (i.e. a “country” feel or every song involving ukelele), Joined Like Notes is a bit more free-form.

Songs such as “Mail Order Catalogue” and “A Babe In My Mama’s Arms” hearken back to his earlier works – sparse and yet atmospheric and moody – while “Hurricane Proof (Katrina)” and “Save Trestles (Sediment Flow)” take the opportunity to get topical. “Save Trestles” graced the artist’s MySpace page for quite a while before finally getting this release, and it’s aways been a catchy, toe-tapping number; getting the opportunity to hear it more clearly reveals it to be this CD’s standout. “A Slip In The Grey” and the title track are also stripped-down marvels of mood, with the former sporting some really interesting vocal work in the chorus. “Joined Like Notes” is more uplifting and mesmerizing in its own way.

Despite a thematic or stylistic angle to the songs on Joined Like Notes, it’s a nice breath of fresh air and a relaxing listen – even with the slightly soft-pedaled protest songs in (though they join a long tradition of folk protest songs in that regard). Highly recommended.

1. A Babe In My Mama’s Arms (3:08)
2. Hurricane Proof (Katrina) (4:09)
3. Save Trestles (Sediment Flow) (3:09)
4. Mail Order Catalogue (3:57)
5. A Sip In The Grey (4:08)
6. Joined Like Notes (4:09)

Released by: Daniel Gannaway
Release date: 2008
Total running time: 22:40

Culled from the open recording days held at Peter Gabriel’s RealWorld Studios in the early to mid 1990s, Big Blue Ball isn’t really necessarily a Peter Gabriel album. Considering how frustrated some of his fans are with the lengthy wait between albums (and I’ll admit that I probably belong in that impatient category), Big Blue Ball may, as such, come off as a disappointment to some listeners. Gabriel doesn’t even perform on every track, even as an instrumentalist – in fact, over 50% of the album is Gabriel-free. So what’s in it for you, the listener? Why bother with Big Blue Ball?

Because even if he doesn’t play on a given track, there’s sort of an unspoken, unwritten stamp of approval that goes with the fact that Gabriel let these folks into the studio, period. Now, I will admit to a certain bias here: the material on which Gabriel does play/sing is the best stuff on Big Blue Ball by a long shot. But this doesn’t make the seven out of eleven songs where he doesn’t appear instant skip material. Gabriel’s penchant for encouraging ethnic fusion artists and trying to break various styles of world music out into wide exposure means that there’s actually more cohesion among the tracks than you might think.

And some of the artists heard here are legends in their own parts of the world. One can hear, in the hypnotically relaxing “Altus Silva”, the genesis of a sound that some of its musicians would later make their own under the name of Afro-Celt Sound System. I was pleasantly surprised to see former World Party one-man-band Karl Wallinger all over this album. Long, long ago, I remember reading in Rolling Stone that Tim Finn – circa his “ALT” collaboration with Liam O’Maonlai and Andy White – had participated in some sessions with Gabriel, and when Tim’s name didn’t surface anywhere on Up, I guessed that whatever he had worked on had been buried. But one of those recordings is the first track on here, and it’s a winner. Other standouts – with out without Gabriel – include, at long last, a definitive (and somewhat tweaked) release of the single “Burn You Up, Burn You Down” (which dates back to Up’s release and really should have not only been on that album, but should’ve also been its lead single), as well as a song called “Exit Through You” whose percussion toward the end completely fascinates me. “Forest” and “Habibe” are engrossing world music tracks. In fact, the only track I consistently skip is “Jijy” – there’s nothing wrong with the song, but I have to be in a certain mood for rap, let alone rap in another language. But it’s still pretty catchy.

So while some fans expecting a full-on Gabriel album might be disappointed, there’s plenty of music to enjoy on Big Blue Ball. I get cranky about the huge gaps between albums in Gabriel’s repertoire, but this whole thing – with or without his direct influence – feels authentically Peter Gabriel enough that I’m happy with this until the next one comes along (and if that’s not enough, he also has a couple of songs on the Wall-E soundtrack album that aren’t on Big Blue Ball.) It’s a solid collection that’ll tide fans of Gabriel and world music in general over for a while – if you give it time to grow on you.

1. Whole Thing (5:29)
   featuring Francis Bebey, Alex Faku, Tim Finn, Peter Gabriel, Karl Walllinger, Andy White
2. Habibe (7:14)
   featuring Natacha Atlas, Hossam Ramzy, Neil Sparkes
3. Shadow (4:29)
   featuring Juan Cañizares, Papa Wemba
4. Altus Silva (6:09)
   featuring Joseph Arthur, Ronan Browne, Deep Forest, James McNally, Iarla O’Lionáird, Vernon Reid
5. Exit Through You (5:54)
   featuring Joseph Arthur, Peter Gabriel, Karl Wallinger
6. Everything Comes From You (4:44)
   featuring Richard Evans, Joji Hirota, Sevara Nazarkhan, Sinead O’Connor, Guo Yue
7. Burn You Up, Burn You Down (4:32)
   featuring Billy Cobham, Peter Gabriel, The Holmes Brothers, Wendy Melvoin, Arona N’Diaye, Jah Wobble
8. Forest (6:18)
   featuring Levon Minassian, Arona N Diaye, Vernon Reid, Hukwe Zawose
9. Rivers (5:46)
   featuring Vernon Reid, Marta Sebestyen, Karl Wallinger
10. Jijy (4:01)
    Arona N’Diaye, Rossy, Jah Wobble
11. Big Blue Ball (4:52)
    Peter Gabriel, Manu Katché, Karl Wallinger

Released by: RealWorld
Release date: 2008
Total running time: 59:28

With his last EP, Summer Storm, Daniel Gannaway experimented with the ukelele as a dominant sound in his music; in a similar vein, his latest effort, Heading For Country, tries on some country shoes. This time the experiment isn’t so much with a specific instrument, but with some of the stylistic licks of American country music. Whatever he’s trying out sonically, it’s a credit to Gannaway’s musicianship and his ability as a songwriter that it never sounds anything less than genuine.

But with his background in folk rock, Gannaway feels like he’s edging toward home turf here, rather than stretching the envelope in an unexpected way. There might be a wistful harmonica here and there, or just a hint of a country “twang”, but it’s not much of a culture shock to those of us accustomed to his folkier style.

The highlights of the six-song EP are the two middle tracks, “Talk Yourself Up” and “Tiny Lights”. The former is a jaunty, positive little number, while the latter is a somber meditation on mortality. The first time I heard “Tiny Lights”, I earmarked it as being interesting for its melody; the next time I listened to it, I had just gone through an eight-day period which began with the birth of my son and ended with having to humanely put down a horse I’d had for nearly ten years. The lyrics jumped out at me on this second listen, and it’s a Gannaway classic right up there with “Chain”. Even if I can’t convince you that you’ll like the music, I’ll put it this way: any CD on which a song as good as “Tiny Lights” takes up 1/6 of the running time is great value for the money.

Not that any of the songs on here are anything to skip, mind you. Heading For Country makes it sound like Daniel Gannaway’s heading into untested territory, but for those of us who’ve been listening for a while, it’s more like a welcome homecoming. Very highly recommended.

1. Move Along Now (3:39)
2. Sorry To Say (2:31)
3. Talk Yourself Up (2:45)
4. Tiny Lights (3:28)
5. Lazy Sundays (3:33)
6. Sadly Don’t Think So (3:49)

Released by: Daniel Gannaway
Release date: 2007
Total running time: 19:45

Many times, an album has been sparked by an artist’s discovery/rediscovery of a new or unusual instrument, and sometimes it’s worked (Todd Rundgren’s A Capella experiment of the human voice as every instrument) and just as many times it hasn’t. This is one of those times where it really works. New Zealand-based indie rocker Daniel Gannaway constructed this somewhere-between-EP-and-LP-length collection on a simple premise: every song would feature the ukelele in some fashion. (Yes, you read right, the ukelele.) Recorded in NZ and Hawaii, Summer Storm takes that premise, and the instrument itself, through several permutations, and it all manages to work, largely thanks to Gannaway’s reliable gifts in the songwriting department. Oddly enough, and this isn’t a crack about originality or the lack thereof, the ukelele’s role here reminded me of the shock value of the mandolin as a lead instrument in R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion”. It’s front and center on every song, though the tone of the songs shifts from light and breezy (“Across The Sea”, which reminded me curiously of early, pre-electric Split Enz) to more straight-ahead rock (“Talking Story”, which was the song that made me think of the “Losing My Religion” comparison in the first place), with stops at several stylistic destinations in between. Someone’s clearly having fun putting the ukelele through its paces, though again, the songs are the key – they’re all good enough on their own, unusual arrangements or not, to stand up. But any preconceptions you have about the ukelele in terms of strumming away at old tropical island tunes may not stand up after you hear this one – in a few places, it’s some real rock ‘n’ roll. If you’re in the mood for something different, this is some good stuff.

1. Across The Sea (2:28)
2. In Heaven (2:56)
3. Doug’s Little Love Shack (2:35)
4. No Mall At Sharks Cove (2:49)
5. Talking Story (2:24)
6. Silver Lining (3:01)
7. A Just Senator (2:53)
8. Summer Storm (3:19)

Released by: Daniel Gannaway
Release date: 2005
Total running time: 22:25

If you need evidence that there’s still a “wandering minstrel,” for lack of a better term, out there in the increasingly studio-bred world of music, allow me to present Daniel Gannaway as proof that the breed’s not extinct. The New Zealand-based musician logged studio time for his latest album in Ireland, Amsterdam, and NZ itself, all while working the road as a gigging musician. What has emerged from that work is Darling One Year, a tasty masterpiece of low-key mood that picks up the best stylistic experiments of his previous album and runs with them.

Of that previous album, I remember saying that Gannaway needed someone to hit the skins for him, and indeed on this outing he’s assembled a nice little group of fellow musicians to fill out the sound with some real live drums and bass. Gannaway’s voice, often processed and a bit ethereal, wafts over the proceedings – if anything, the best example on Bound & Suburban to which I could compare Darling One Year’s vocals would be “Achilles”, where it sounded like the vocals were being driven through a flange pedal; in some cases on Darling One Year’s heavier numbers, the vocals sound like they’re going through a guitar distortion pedal or some similar effect, and while the effects are never out of place with the songs, every once in a while it makes it a little hard to hear what’s actually being sung.

And that’s really my only quibble (and it’s a small one at that) with Darling One Year, because the lyrics are worth hearing – they’re often pointed and topical. The title track takes a first-person view of the oscurity of being an independent musician, and there’s no Bon Jovi waffle about riding a steel horse to be found here, but there’s no regret or bitterness to it either. “Student Debt Sucks” is funny and yet has a bubbling-just-under-a-boil rant going at the same time, with a great lyrical turn of phrase in “lending you astray.” Lyrically, the best song on here by miles is “Chain”, railing against bigotry and war and offering a philosophical comment about how every life is essentially a string of one-on-one encounters of one kind or another, any one of which could break said chain. “See The Light” offers a wry commentary on door-to-door evangelism (and here I thought that was a uniquely American phenomenon). And bookending things nicely, the last track, “A Small Thankyou”, is exactly as advertised.

Darling One Year is some excellent music that, hopefully, can get a wider audience by word-of-mouth. Daniel Gannaway’s unique style of filtering folk influences through modern recording techniques makes for quite a compelling listen, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he writes some damn good songs too. I’m pretty sure I said this about his previous release too, but I’ll repeat it here – if you only indulge in one independent release this year, Darling One Year would make a fine pick.

1. Darling One Year (4:17)
2. Student Debt Sucks (3:40)
3. Julie (4:50)
4. Gotta Drive (3:47)
5. In The North Sea (4:44)
6. Laughing Free (3:56)
7. Chain (3:39)
8. See The Light (4:26)
9. Ecstasy Lovers (4:47)
10. A Small Thankyou (3:21)

Released by: Daniel Gannaway
Release date: 2004
Total running time: 41:30

I’ve been meaning to review this album for two or three years now, and it’s such an odd beast to get a grip on. This is Genesis in flux, and yet Genesis finding its feet. Several years after losing Peter Gabriel to a solo career, the remaining trio of founding members soldiered on, and yet sometimes you’d think they were clinging to the past. Abacab is an album full of good songs, but it’s also an album with something of a serious identity crisis.

The title track – edited down to little over half of its original running time – received healthy radio airplay at the time of the album’s release, but along with songs like “Me And Sarah Jane”, “Keep It Dark” and “Who Dunnit?”, “Abacab” represents the majority of this album’s personality. Phil Collins, Tony Banks and Mike Rutherford seemed to be trying to hang onto the prog-rock sound of the Gabriel era, with meandering song structures (“Sarah Jane” in particular can’t seem to latch onto any one particular melody, trying out several melodic lines and discarding them in turn – it’s almost like early Split Enz). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – I quite like “Abacab” and “Keep It Dark”, and they demonstrate that, when he used to try to emulate Gabriel’s throat-thrasing vocal style, there used to be a raw power to Phil Collins’ voice which his latter-day career has carefully buried.

It’s in songs like “Man On The Corner” and especially “No Reply At All” that one finds hints of the future Genesis sound. The latter in particular is bouncy, with some Motown-style brass work and a lighthearted lyric. “Man On The Corner” is again somewhat brooding and dark, with just a hint again of the Peter Gabriel influence, but it’s indicative of my favorite era of Genesis – songs better suited to Collins’ vocal range and style, but falling somewhere between the Gabriel-era Genesis sound and Collins’ later self-styled reinvention of himself as a soft-pop balladeer. It may not be the original sound mandated in the Gabriel/Hackett era, but it was the best possible style for the Collins-led Genesis.

Abacab, in retrospect, is a bit of a mixed bag – but, being a bit of a transitional piece (despite having been preceded by two other albums with the Banks/Collins/Rutherford lineup), it was bound to be. They were really starting to get it here.

1. Abacab (7:02)
2. No Reply At All (4:41)
3. Me And Sarah Jane (6:00)
4. Keep It Dark (4:34)
5. Dodo / Lurker (7:30)
6. Who Dunnit? (3:22)
7. Man On The Corner (4:27)
8. Like It Or Not (4:58)
9. Another Record (4:30)

Released by: Atlantic
Release date: 1981
Total running time: 47:04