Although the press have finally been cottoning on to the wonders wafting over from Canada over the past few years, one name seems to have remained surprisingly small and culty when compared to the (mostly deserved) commercial success that’s befallen bands such as The Arcade Fire, The Hidden Cameras and The Dears.
I’m talking about the dramatic, sometimes Vaudevillian antics of perhaps Canada’s perennially best-kept secret HAWKSLEY WORKMAN of course. Your reviewer was lucky to see Hawksley early on, when he was supporting the equally under-rated Chris Mills at a fairly sparsely-attended gig in Cork, when Workman also doubled as drummer in Mills’s backing group The Miserable Bastards and held his shiny pinstripe pants up with an over-sized safety-pin. His stage patter was equally unpredictable (he smoked a succession of, er, invisible cigarettes between numbers) but his songs themselves were remarkable, heart-warming/ rending things such as “Don’t Be Crushed”, the tragic, army buddy story of “Bullets” and the magnificent “Safe And Sound.” These tunes – along with the Jeff Buckley-ish wonder of “Sweet Hallelujah” – formed the basis of his excellent debut album “For Him & The Girls”: a record that still regularly graces this writer’s feverishly-sweating hi-fi.
2002’s curiously-titled “(Tonight We Were The)Delicious Wolves” found Hawksley in tandem with new backing band The Wolves (well, live anyway) and though it was a slightly more wayward affair, there were plenty of great moments such as “Old Bloody Orange” and the tremendous “Jealous of Your Cigarette” where Workman’s off-kilter genius shone like a beacon in the fog. Shamefully, this reviewer’s radar temporarily lost sight of him for a while after that, but later discovery of 2003’s “Lover/ Fighter” sounded alarm bells: yes, there were always Vaudevillian aspects and Buckley-ish vocal flights of fancy to Hawksley’s art, but since when did morphing into Freddie Mercury sneak into the game plan?
One sensed that Hawksley himself knew a sea change was due, and – gratefully – I can now reveal that “Lover/ Fighter”s long-awaited follow-up “Treeful Of Starling” has been more than worth the wait and that the past three years appear to have re-aligned the author with the emotional playfulness that made him such a charismatic character on the scene to begin with.
Apparently the fruit of a desire to lock himself away from the rigours of society with a rented piano and simple 8-track recording console for company, “Treeful…” is indeed a gentler, introspective piece of work. Crucially, though, it’s strong and consistent and – at a relatively concise 36 minutes in all – is just about the perfect way for Hawksley to re-acquaint himself (and his public) with everything that made him so fascinating the first time around.
Certainly, the isolation appears to have worked wonders. Yes, there are occasional guest slots by long-time pianist/ organist Mr.Lonely and the strings and horns are also supplied by guest musicians, but otherwise “Treeful…” has been pieced together by Hawksley on his own and the live, close-miked sound is simply a delight. Opener “A Moth Is Not A Butterfly” - based around piano and drums – is a great scene-setter, with elements of country and N’Awlins blues, not to mention trombone and a cracking banjo solo. Yes, the patented Hawksley vocal swoops are still there, but they are reined-in and disciplined and the overall sound is enjoyably downbeat and emotional.
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He barely puts a foot wrong afterwards, either. Indeed, songs like “Hey Hey Hey (My Little Beauties)” and “You And The Candles” are both gorgeous and romantic and quite probably among the best things he’s recorded to date. The former is quintessential off-kilter Hawksley, with piano, accordion, strings and a distinct ragtime feel slugging it out while Hawksley sings “you are what God made you, anyone can see/ you don’t have to change for no-one, especially not me.” Aah! “You And The Candles” is no less heartfelt and when Hawksley sings of “when there ain’t no more money and there’s nothing to buy/ when all we have is the day” it’s already coming on like this record’s “Safe & Sound.”
Elsewhere, he goes on to yearn enthusiastically for simpler (nay, prehistoric!) times on “When These Mountains Were The Seashore” (“what would it be like to leave our fins and gills to the air?”) and comes over all mordant and funereal on the show stopping “It’s A Long Life To Always Be Longing.” As to your reviewer’s pick of the bunch, well it’s difficult to deny a track with a trombone solo (“Rain”) but surely the blue riband should ultimately go to the closing “Ice Age” where Hawksley positively embraces the long-term effects of global warming and over a honey of a tune sets up the loveliest of odes to undying love, culminating in the chorus of “there’s gonna be nice days in the ice age/ and there’s nothing left to say that our love won’t melt away.” As admissions of eternal adoration go, it takes some beating even in this post-cynical age.
“Treeful Of Starling”, then, is a lustrous creative re-birth from arguably Canada’s most-criminally ignored talent. Make sure you listen for a change when a little bird tells you about this one.
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