Poor old Sean O'Hagan- with almost every record he & his High Llamas release, the first comparison most people tend to reach for is Brian Wilson & his Californian Beach bums, which says more about critics than it does about O'Hagan & his individual style of writing. Sure, he's as familiar with 'Pet Sounds' as the next consumate songwriter, but his palate draws on much wider influences whilst making the music he creates wholly his own. Van Dyke Parks, Shuggy Otis, Edward Elgar & Jorge Ben are all star players in his dream team & this is no more apparent than on new LP 'Talahomi Way'.
'Berry Adams' is a blueprint in how to engage the listener, with its arrangement's gentle twists & turns that constantly sutrprise & delight the ears. The tastiest track on the album by far is the superb 'Take My Hand', a sing-along sea breeze of a shanty which leads us down to a warm, sun-kissed beachfront, far away from the hussle & bustle of South London; a deceptively powerful & catchy as all hell chorus invites us to run our fingers through the warm sand & turn our backs upon the daily grind so many of us endure. It could be any beach, Rio, Venice or even Southwold- the point here is a lyrical & melodic escapism which is surely what all the best music strives to supply.
O'Hagan's string quartet experiments from 2003's magnificent 'Beet, Maize & Corn' are showcased here in the moving instrumental 'Wander Jack, Wander' (as English as marmalade & a cup of Earl Grey), alongside the subtle wind instrument arrangements used to such great effect in the longing of 'Fly Baby Fly'.
There's always been a natural jauntiness to O'Hagan's writing, no more so than in the gentle melodicism of 'To The Abbey', probably the only time you're going to hear a harp on any new releases this year. He makes it sounds so easy.
Of course, there are the odd moments of California dreaming ('Talahomi Way' & it's Western harmonica springs to mind), but they seem to appear less & less in O'Hagan's work these days...which means all those critics are going to have reach for something other than their usual, knee-jerk West-Coast allusions. Sorry, boys...
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