#56 Bert Jansch by Bert Jansch

The first review that you write after a longish break is always the hardest to do. This sentiment may sound a tad familiar since I wrote something similar at the beginning of my review of I’ve Got A Tiger By The Tail but I again have had a week off. This time it has been because of a family holiday to New York City where it isn’t really feasible for me to be writing reviews, especially since I didn’t bring my laptop. Also we did so much walking that my lower back and right knee ache terribly. What? I know I’m 19 and shouldn’t be having such aches and pains.

Since I started off this post with a tangent about my holiday I might as well start the actual review with another one. My favourite album of 2008 was She & Him’s Volume One. It was through this that I discovered M. Ward (the him in She & Him) whose albums I have grown to love, especially Hold Time and Transfiguration of Vincent. Why bring this up? Why else, but to point out the sheer influence that I can spot feeding from Bert Jansch after listening to this album.

From the fact that I made a reference to my top album of last year it should be pretty clear that I enjoyed this album, which I did. It has been too long since I listened to an album that features such beautifully complex guitar work. To find this you really need look further than Smokey River, a three minute guitar instrumental that is bloody impressive. Also there is the album closer Angie which also demonstrates his amazing guitar-playing abilities without sounding overtly cocky or avant-garde.

In a way Bert Jansch reminds me of a Devandra Banhart that can sing in tune (this may be a at unfair towards Mr. Banhart since my only exposure to him is via Rejoicing In The Hands). This is a very apt comparison as these two share a lot when it comes to the lyrical content and the complex use of the guitar, only difference being the 40 years that separates both of their entries on the 1001 list.

That is the beauty of Bert Jansch. This is one of those albums where the recording and the production has truly stood up to the test of time. Maybe this is due to the minimal production values, or the fact that this is an album that Bob Dylan could have made if his singing voice decided not to prance around behind the fine line between quirky and annoying. True that this is my shortest review for a while, and for that I apologise, but try to review a bluesy-folk album while you are suffering from jetlag. I promise to do a better one next time, but only if you listen to this album. Believe me it is worthy of the attention and rating bestowed on it.

9.0/10 Fab Four:
Stolling Down The Highway
Smokey River
Running From Home
Angie