Music Arcades: Charlotte Greig: At Llangennith

Sadly, the last of my Charlotte Greig albums. Sad, because there are no more, yet, and all the others are behind us: 1, 2, 4, 5.

At Llangennith is the middle one of the collection, #3, though in my mind's ear it sits slightly apart from the others. At first I couldn't put a finger on why that is — was it just that the cover has more light and colour; that the title is somehow more prosaic? Admittedly, I don't know it well, since I only got it relatively recently. So, on Sunday morning, when I had the house to myself, I listened to the first two and half songs of all Charlotte's albums, in chronological order.

My hunch was right: At Llangennith has a subtly different feel. The Young Marble Giants drum machine, a regular fixture on the first two albums, has gone. Perhaps more significantly, Charlotte's harmonium, which gives her recordings a characteristic drone-folk undertow, only really makes its presence felt on the penultimate track, Over the Water. Piano and possibly (I'm not a reliable identifier of instruments) slide guitar feature more heavily. The songs are longer — half of them are over five minutes. There may be more multitracking of voice and guitar than on the other albums, but my study wasn't sufficiently extensive to be sure of that.

The songs, too, feel less elliptical, more literal. The title track is like a musical postcard from the scene on the cover. Seductions figure again: That Man is a like a more confident companion-piece to the wonderful Take Me Home. And Perfect Wave draws an equivalence between surfing and seduction, "this pleasure washing over me". I'm not sure what Walk On is about, but it's a favourite. It's not a cover version of the Neil Young song of the same name, but there are a few covers included. Two traditional folk songs, including a version of Willie O'Winsbury that is less completely in thrall to Anne Briggs than the others I've heard recently. Also an unlikely reading of this old doggerell (yes, I needed Google to track it down).

A confession. I met Charlotte three weeks ago, after her performance at the Freud Museum. I'm often wary of meeting people whose music I love — small talk seems beside the point, and I can't articulate the things I want to about why I love the music. But Charlotte made the open invitation explicit in an email to her list of fans, and repeated it at the event. Besides I was hungry, thirsty and drenched from a downpour. I spoke not just to Charlotte but to her husband, John Williams and to Richard James, and had a lovely, relaxed time.

The only thing that threw me slightly was that Charlotte said, "You're written about me, haven't you?" and, when she saw my perplexed expression, added, "… on the net." Well, yes, on this very site, but how did you know it was me?! So this post is not the first time I've written about someone's work thinking that person might conceivably read it. However it is the first time that I've met and liked the person concerned, and thought that they might remember who I am. Hence I've been minding my Ps and Qs as I write.

The night after that performance, Lucy and I went to see a great show by Eilen Jewell at the Luminaire. Who should we see getting into a cab on the Kilburn High Road, just outside the venue, but Charlotte, John and Richard? There was no time to explain what we were doing there, so maybe I'm now a suspected stalker. In which case, it matters little whether this little blog finds favour.