Much has been written about JAMES YORKSTON & THE ATHLETES recently, not least by writers on this very website. But this current level of exposure can only be the calm before the proverbial storm. It’s surely only a matter of time before the rest of the country catches up to the fact that this band, in a live setting especially, are almost untouchable at the moment.
There were certain moments during Friday night’s show, in Edinburgh’s trendy Bongo Club, when we were cerebrally lifted into the land of Yorkston. The silence of the crowd; the resonance and clarity of the instruments; the intelligence of the lyrics, all helped to whisk us effortlessly from clumsy one night stands, to phone calls in a Dublin hotel room; from the windswept barren landscape of Fife’s East Neuk; to picking mushrooms and sitting on some wall.
Musically, James and the Athletes seem to be developing that telepathic understanding only musicians, at the peak of their form, seem to enjoy. During the opening song ‘Hotel’, the Athletes seemed to realise even before James did, that he was singing the wrong verse halfway in. The ensuing hilarity, and gentle piss taking, only goes to show the friendship and honesty the band have developed in their time together.
Following with ‘Heron’, the exquisite opening track of their latest album ‘Just Beyond The River’, Yorkston then upped the pace with the swirling epic tale that is ‘Shipwreckers’. The new material shows obvious signs of maturity and progression, and stands well together with the classics of the band’s first album ‘Moving Up Country’.
Tonight though, when we are treated to ‘Sweet Jesus’, ‘6:30’ and ‘St Patrick’ in quick succession, it was obvious to all present that we were witnessing something special. The quality control was raised further with fantastic versions of ‘Banjo #1’ and ‘This Time Tomorrow’, followed by an utterly aching ‘Tender To The Blues’. Faisal Rahman’s subtle percussion on these quieter, more intense songs show how integral he is to the overall sound of the Athletes.
Doogie Paul, when he wasn’t on banjo duty, caressed his double-bass all night producing the lovely soft driving rhythms we’ve come to associate with the band, while Reuben Taylor’s accordion and Hammond playing are delivered with emotion and soul.
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Tonight’s show, the last of their short 12-date tour of Britain and Ireland, was peppered throughout with anecdotes and one-liners from the shy, but confident, front man. From James asking the audience to make farmyard animal noises instead of clapping (quite successfully I may add), to a tale of the group playing a surreal gig in a Nu-Metal club down south, the uplifting mood of the crowd was maintained all evening.
Of course, in the week of the untimely death of DJ John Peel, that celebratory mood couldn’t last. The band’s dedication of the show’s closer ‘I Know My Love’ to Peel was a fitting and poignant moment, as he was one of the first (if not the first) journalists to champion Yorkston’s music. And frankly, with the great man’s track record, who are we to argue.
It’s these traditional musical frenzies that really allow the audience to catch the Athletes in their prime. The “Can/Planxty” sound that James has alluded to in the past is encapsulated in these 10, or so, minutes. The gentle building of the lap-steel, guitar and piano is mesmerising, and as the crescendo hits us, it proves that James Yorkston & the Athletes are as much a ‘rock’ band as they are a ‘folk’ band.
Although there were noisy shouts for ‘The Lang Toun’, the Athletes 20-30 minute opus, which is obviously only played on very special occasions these days, the only encore tonight was a rousing, crashing version of ‘I Spy Dogs’. And with that they were gone, in the process doing what all live music should ultimately achieve. To leave the audience desperate for more.
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