Some Folks

While I was on holiday in Italy in early August I received a message via one of my social media apps. It read, 'We see that you are on vacation. When you return would you like to review an album that is not available anywhere and has not been released?' It was from Ephraim Washington who has an Instagram profile titled Last Of the Ancients with a black and white profile photo of what appears to be a man with a heavy white beard, dressed in clothes that a 19th century homesteader might have worn, large belt buckle proudly halfway up his stomach. I was intrigued and replied 'Yes' and when I got home an album, also titled Last Of The Ancients, was in my inbox. 

Then, as per often happens with new music in my downloads folder, I forgot about it. Last week while scrolling it caught my eye and I clicked play on the first few songs. It might be partly the changing seasons, summer long gone round and autumn already moving in but the songs chimed directly with me-dusty songs, seemingly from a time gone, songs that could have come from the 1890s (or the 1990s for that matter)- acoustic guitars and banjo, drums that sound like they're being played in another room, down the hall, with the doors left open in between the two rooms, a folk/ Americana feel, a singer recorded close to the mic, choral backing vocals that fill a space in the near distance, a little away from the microphone, songs about Sunday morning, cracks in the sky, the early hours of the morning, storms and uninvited fools. There's something of Greil Marcus' 'old weird America' about the eight songs on Last Of The Ancients- I can hear some Deserter's Songs in there as well, some Giant Sand and some Will Oldham too.

The Last Of The Ancients crackles into life with Sunday Morning Scene, muffled drums and twangy banjo and rather lovely singing voice (whether the singer is Ephraim Washington or the band is, I don't know). This is the second song, Some Folks, Ephraim opening up with, 'Some folks don't like me at all', as the banjo and choir move in circles behind him. A fiddle joins in and Ephraim draws some conclusions about thinking once and thinking twice. 

Some Folks

On She's Not Alone there's more plucked banjo, a lot of echo and a ghostly swirl and then in the second half of the song it all snaps into focus, swelling and becoming really quite moving. Miles Of Blue shuffles in with a ton of echo and the sound of instruments playing in a room with timber walls. The album ends with The Storm, the sound of the wind howling and a bent guitar string, a song pitched somewhere between a long dark night of the soul and the first rays of morning.