Robert Wyatt

Robert Wyatt “Maryan”

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One of Robert’s great, subtle, riverine songs

By Rino Breebaart

There is a special, resonant magic that happens when a song’s lyrics and melody mingle and merge. Take the gently meandering poetry of “Maryan” off [Robert Wyatt’s] Shleep album. The lyrics unroll and bend with the melody like a river unrolling to its delta. There’s a tonal consistency to the song, a timelessness like a drone with downstream force ― addressing only its own flow (cue Wagner’s Rheingold prelude). It’s a beguilingly complex-as-simple song structure that comprises a long melodic verse, and some equally long instrumentals over basic but unexpected chord changes. There is no chorus, and then the verse is repeated ― the last word ‘Maryan’ stretching and rising in extended harmony. But it’s one of the longest verse-melodies in the business ― I think only Prince’s “7” comes close in duration ― and there too a distinct chorus is lacking, unnecessary. The lyrics and words pitch and bend to conform with the colourful melody just as the sound and vibe of the song remain harmonious with the natural setting. 

Over an ocean away,
Like salmon…

Actually, the salmon isn’t going downstream but back to the icy source of the river. Which is a woman. It’s a lovely dream-like tension of thematic undercurrent and execution. Unhurried, layered with trumpet and violin, harmonious like a small ecosystem of song. Circle of life stuff. Vaguely Joycean. And perfectly tuned to the subconscious themes of Shleep. Inspiration and return to nature via art.

A note should be made of the great run of Wyatt albums beginning with Shleep: Wyatt is singular in a way that’s difficult to transcribe ― he’s one of the most musical songwriters in a way that takes from free jazz and prog and pop, and yet he makes completely satisfying albums (in the old school sense) that are as intelligent as they’re artistic. He has more genius than tradition. He is an internationalist, a player in all styles living in Britain; wholly self-made and maturing on an ongoing basis. I’m tempted to call him the Dylan of Britain as there are touches of the 60s experimentalist about Wyatt, and I wanted to parallel his run of albums with Dylan’s late explosion from Time Out of Mind on ― but by revealing contrast, Dylan’s recent run is a devolution to genre whereas Wyatt’s is a true extension of the craft ― stretching and trialling free experiments of melody and form. His a wonderfully active musical brain. A song scientist using moody, disconcerting chords, gnomic impressionism, bemused wit and tender dilation as his alchemic tools. Singular and yet containing multitudes, as they say.

Source: The Slow Review

“The Voices of…” Soft Machine legend Robert Wyatt

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Robert Wyatt has been recognised as a prog-rock drummer, jazz composer, avant-garde cornet player, artist and activist in a wheelchair. But, above all else, he has been known by one of the most instantly recognisable and distinctive voices of the last fifty years.

Forever associated with Shipbuilding, Elvis Costello’s song written in reaction to the Falklands War, Wyatt’s voice and the causes he gives voice to are intricately entwined.

This intimate radio portrait from 2016, in his own words, traces Wyatt’s journey from the psychedelic excesses of Soft Machine (appearing both with Jimi Hendrix and at the BBC Proms), through the life-changing accident that has confined him to a wheelchair for almost forty years, to recent celebrated musical projects that are reaching new audiences.

LISTEN to the 27-minute program at: BBC Sounds

The Unthanks’ “Diversions Vol. 1” turns ten, and still sounds beautiful

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Sing Out! Review | THE UNTHANKS: Diversions Vol. 1 (Rough Trade 5112): by Bill Snyder

By Bill Snyder | Sept 2012

The Unthanks have always played loose with the folk traditions of their native Northumberland, England. Though their intricate chamber-like arrangements transform folk repertoire into something uniquely Unthank, they seem to reveal each song’s essence in the process.

On Diversions Vol. 1, they tackle the work of Antony Hegarty (Antony & The Johnsons) and Soft Machine cofounder Robert Wyatt in much the same way, dramatically reinterpreting each song and drilling down to its heart. There are no attempts to make these “folk songs,” and even the intricate vocal interplay between sisters Rachel and Becky Unthank loses much of its Celtic lilt.

Hegarty’s songs are sparse and filled with longing. The band treats them delicately, focusing on piano, and vocal-centric arrangements fleshed out by strings. It’s all about intimacy. Notably, “Man is the Baby” captures the struggle of the spirit’s need to soar with such intimacy it could have been performed in a living room. The show stopping “Today I Am a Boy” seems like its response as the sisters’ harmony do soar, with beauty and strength that invoke shudders if not tears.

Wyatt’s songs require a bigger sound, and the band steps up. “Dondestan” takes a trumpet melody and punctuates it with Rachel and Becky’s clogs creating the Northumberland equivalent of a hoedown — so energetic you’re hooked before realizing it’s a plea for displaced Palestinians.

“Sea Song” (the album’s highpoint) is cryptic, poetic and elegiac. Stripped largely to piano, accordion and Becky’s vocals, it taps a romantic sorrow, but ends with the entrance of violin and building harmonies: a hint of redemption.

This is truly a diversion from The Unthanks’ canon. Those looking for a folk album should probably pass. For those who have been transfixed by the band’s interpretations, arrangements, and vocal harmonies, though, it’s definitely a welcome diversion.

Source: THE UNTHANKS: Diversions Vol. 1 – Sing Out!