Whilst appearing alongside his
charming wife,Julia, Dave Taylor's public performances are relatively
restrained. The Leicestershire duo do some nice harmonies together,
they cover some lovely ballads very sensitively and do some of their
own material. Off the leash and solo, Dave's kindly appearance is
shed. He belies that calm exterior revealing a vicious tongue,a gift
for mimicry,a fine-tuned ear for parody and a real understanding of
how to employ irony in songwriting.
“All
In Good Time,” is
the latest of several solo issues by Dave.He describes it as
“fourteen tracks over
quite a spectrum of serious and frivolous.”
And he's not joking (although more often than not he is). He actually
uses the word “tacks”
rather than “tracks”
here....leaving
you wondering.. Is that a typo or a pun? You never really know with
Dave.
The CD is worth having just for the
immortal “Leonard
Cohen's Shantymen” alone.
A work of pure genius which has got many a large Folk Club audience
cackling and struggling to join in with the choruses simply because
they could not stop laughing. I've not yet seen a live audience who
weren't tickled by this. Trust me. It's brilliant.
But there's more. When Dave's
laying into the objects of his considerable ire,he's at his best.
Lyrics written in ink refined from pure acid flow from his quill pen.
Words, delivery and production on this album combine to emphasise the
satire. Alone,Dave pulls no punches. Rather he swings haymakers at
the objects of his wrath. He sprinkles his songs with expletives and
examples of Anglo Saxon vernacular. His songs are by turns
angry,waspish and at times almost cruel in their imagery. ( A man
after my own heart). But
they are always funny. A sort of folk version of Sleaford Mods,in
“Greedy
Bastards All” he
epitomises this attack: via a really cross condemnation of
Privilege.It matches in vehemence anything Billy Bragg or Dick
Gaughan has ever angrily spat out into an auditorium.
“Blue-Arsed
Fly” takes
a tilt at Health and Safety whilst “
White Boots”
is another classic
about Talent Show Wannabees. It is delivered in a mocking vocal style
somewhere between Benny Hill John Otway and Charlie Drake A three
minute assassination of the cry babies and the tone deaf who employ
sob stories to win votes when lack of musical ability cannot gather
any. If only our hero had worn his white boots for the audition...the
rest might have been history.
“There's
an Alien Taken Over My Brain”
celebrates
Insomnia whilst “Range
Rover” is
in
Dave's sleeve notes,“for
those whose definition of “off-roading is parking on the pavement.”
It's not all a bundle of laughs.
“Haunted”
is a protest about childrens' role in warfare and “
Harbour Lights,” is
an affectionate homage to Weymouth. And Dave is capable of writing
heavier songs.
“Glow Worm”
is no laughing
matter:It has nothing in it to smile about. A long ballad, half
sung,half spoken it is a Magnum Opus about an epic confrontation
between a Royal Navy Destroyer and a German Battlecruiser. off the
Norwegian coast in 1940. At over nine minutes long it emphasise what
he can do with well-researched material when he's being serious.
Dave is also a very good guitarist. (Did I mention that?) He also
plays mandola,theremin(I think I take those for high blood pressure)
accordion and bass.
But it's not long before he's
sharpened his plectrum and got his kicking boots out again with
“Eighties
Song,”
you
can guess what he's on about here.
Backed
by swirling synths ,beeping moogs and God knows what,Dave lays into
Eighties Pop Music. With the fence-sitting anguished refrain of
“How
Long Can This Turgid Crap Go On?”
he's
not really a fan..
Elsewhere,in “Rose
Scented Glasses,” there
is more
clever wordplay. Dave laments our “high
expectorations” and
mercilessly pans the fifty
years or so of Hurt exemplified by the underachieving England
Football Team. With more tonsil bending enunciation,Dave weighs into
them all. The players. The pundits. The press. The Referees. The
opponents. No-one is safe. It makes Green Street look like a picnic.
“No matter how you interpretate
it
you can't make sense
of the total demolishment our
defence,”
-the
anonymous observer laments,adding bitterly:
“The World will be our Lobster
we'll still get taken to the cleaners
or go out on penalties
to Spain or
Argentina."
So..There's
now a new England Song. Eat your hearts out Baddiel and Skinner.
