That's Dust with a D and a T
Precise pronunciation is one of the more glaring differences
of the female vocals on much in this collection when compared with the slurred affectations
of contemporary female singing, a generational battle between sibilance and
sassiness. Barbara Gaskin seems to click the consonants into place on her
delivery of Love is a Funny Thing by
Spirogyro, the fourth track on cd1. Its
first track, the well-known and still startlingly fresh Let No Man Steal Your Tyme by The Pentangle, is no less articulate,
Jacqui McShee exacting in her enunciations.
It’s not until Vashti Bunyan appears on eighth track Winter is Blue that the sonic spell is
broken, her whispered idiosyncrasy as vocalist diverting from the seemingly rarefied
singing mode. Next, Comus further detour
from what is actually an Englishness as much as gender defined sound with their
more gregarious playing on Winter is a
Coloured Bird, and we realise what a genuinely rich musical tapestry
British folk was at the time of this compilation’s coverage. And in between
these poles mentioned, there is also a sampling of what I’d call naïve folk: a little
discordant and even naff but nonetheless appealing for its honest, unadorned
presentations from the likes of Magnet and Wight.
Indeed, on this cd and across the other two there are
further dichotomies of precision, whether singing, instrumental and/or
songwriting. There are stalwarts like Bridget St. John, Fairport Convention,
Dando Shaft, Principal Edwards Magic Theatre, Steeleye Span and more – and then
there is Clive Palmer. That’s not a criticism of the latter: there is a full
spectrum of polished to raw folk, because that is what there was. And it is an
excellent selection of that.
Best track on all three? The Garden of Jane Delawney by The Trees. Closely followed by There Are No Greater Heroes by Tony, Caro and John [1972 album reviewed here].
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