Folk music, it seems, has been undergoing somewhat of a revival of late. BBC4 say so, there have been actual documentaries, so it must be. Of course it’s one of those things that never clears off entirely, but you only need look so far as the top of the charts, to Jose Gonzalez and Nizlopi’s (relatively) rampant successes, and further down the scale to the interesting achievements of Adem, Patrick Wolf, Ciculus, Four Tet and Chris TT, to know the genre is in rude and incredibly varied health. So, there’ll be room then for the side project of singer Joe Volk, frontman with Bristol’s Stonehenge (y’know, kind of like stoner, only more heavy, man) rockers Gonga? Thankfully there’s always room by the figurative campfire, just let the boy in from the cold would you. For him this is split personality stuff, but it’s likely the only side you would want to know. Looking at his surname too it could be that he is finally answering his calling.
The album is guided by the protective production arm of Portishead’s Adrian Utley (well, he can hardly be busy right now, can he) which is perhaps responsible for the album’s mystifying, weightless, almost numb feel. It’s the perfect setting for the flowering and hearteningly competent songwriting that he introduces to your ears with a beguiling subtlety. His soft plucking and luxuriously quiet voice remind immediately of Jose Gonzalez and trace back further to a Nick Drake standard mark and then back up to paths trodden more recently by Elliott Smith, only with understandably less anguished steps. ‘The Sun Also Rises’, ‘Thaumaturgist’ and ‘Farne’ soak up these well understood reference points especially well, also hinting at Damien Rice’s exploratory nature and solo Lou Barlow’s sandpaper softness. Beautifully understated, pleasingly calm. Turin Brakes this is not. Stoner rock this is not either, even if it does small a little like it.