This writer enjoys nothing more than having his head turned by an artist he'd previously written off and – in recent times – there's no better example of that than RICKY WARWICK. Certainly, your reviewer never had anything very positive to say about Warwick's previous band, the Glaswegian metallers The Almighty, yet now he's struck out on his own, this tattooed troubadour is a far more charismatic proposition.
Thus, Ricky's new album, 'Belfast Confetti' is something of a road to Damascus moment for this suitably chastened reviewer. It's a gritty, hard-bitten affair, balanced expertly between ecstasy and brutal heartbreak with Ricky singing like he's got one bloodshot eye on salvation and the other on the lure of oblivion. It's certainly older, it's possibly a good bit wiser and it's utterly gripping from pillar to post.
Although 'anthemic' is an epithet never far from your reviewer's notes when listening to virtually everything here, the album's split pretty adroitly between hard-hitting, acoustic confessionals and a few steely, slowburning rockers, with a few surprises thrown in for good measure. It's well-paced and consistent and Warwick's undoubtedly skilled in terms of both tunes and well-turned phrases.
The rousing 'Can't Wait For Tomorrow' kicks us off in fine style. It's a superior, hard-livin' troubadour blues with a full band playing out of their skins. As with most of the songs, Warwick's lyrics find him caught between the comforts of home and the ever-beckoning road (“this highway's mine, it makes me glad/ I want it now, I want it bad”),although the great, Gospel-tinged backing vocals are an excellent idea and give it a bit of an Alabama 3 vibe.
Warwick proves to be equally adept at stark, acoustic confessionals. Songs like 'If You're Gonna Bleed (Wear Black)' and 'Throwin' Dirt' (“I never knelt in church, but I know how to pray/ if it's seven deadly sins I'm guilty all the way”) are convincing slices of redemptive folk-blues which find Ricky coming on like a Northern Irish Townes Van Zandt. 'Born Fightin'' is a self-explanatory survivor's anthem and the intensely personal title track pulls off the impressive trick of sounding haunted and stirring all at once.
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Inevitably, the single 'Arms of Belfast Town' will probably be the album's calling card even down the line. A boisterous, but adroitly-crafted football anthem overflowing with pride and Pogues-style Celtic trimmings, it's already been adopted by the Northern Irish Football squad but already sounds like a classic drinker's anthem which will be called upon for decades to come. It's the one the media will choose en mass, but the deceptively jaunty 'Can't Hurt A Fool' and the glorious piano ballad 'Angel of Guile' are every bit its' equal. The latter is the kind of thing Jesse Malin regularly smashes this writer's heart to pieces with and demonstrates what a great voice Ricky Warwick has when he sets his mind to it.
'Belfast Confetti' is a revelation. It's a resonant, real and beautifully-crafted album and plants Ricky Warwick very squarely on this writer's map. See? Sometimes, a little humble pie can be savoured after all.
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