Cabins, Americana, Friends, and Europe: Kieran McMahon and Shooting John

Saturday, January 31, 2004
Take a cold winter night in a cabin in the woods. Start a fire in the fireplace. Keep just a couple of lamps on. Crank Thomas Denver Jonsson. Suck a beer. And then taste that country air and scorned love. Let that slow Americana grab you at the core, transporting you inside the music, inside the firelight, inside the pale amber lager hue, inside the heart, inside the sound that subtly comes up to puts its beat and bass and melody into your world.

I’m not at that cabin, but I’ve found another voice to transport me to that same place which found me listening to Thomas Denver Jonsson’s Hope to Her. Jonsson can still evoke the feeling of being in that cabin, the snowshoes propped just outside the door, the lonely quiet being broken by his music. When I first heard Kieran McMahon’s Falling Deeper Under a Spell, visions of that cabin came back.

Kieran McMahon

Like Jonsson’s Americana which comes from Sweden, McMahon’s Americana comes through his Belfast roots, London coming of age, and Berlin recording. Unlike Jonsson, the pace moves forward quite a bit more, but still McMahon’s voice has a deep valley melancholy, dreamily orchestral (brought out by Doron Burstein’s string arrangements), an echo of rain-soaked Belfast streets amid New York City lounges and Appalachian cabins.

The opening track of Falling Deeper Under a Spell showcases what keeps these dream songs from floating off into netherland: Snorre Schwarz drums. After the opening stanzas of morning music, Schwarz punctuates the tale with jazz-like fills, syncopated to propel the song from the meadow to the city. Similarly, von Schubert’s jazz beat props up “Thinkers Don’t Sleep” like an insomnia driving you to keep contemplating McMahon’s lullaby lyrics.

Perhaps, though, even Schwarz succumbed to that lullaby for “Getting Lost Inside Myself,” one of the tracks where McMahon’s melancholy is allowed to shine for all its dark worth. He’s the observer at the side of the road; he’s the one alone in his bedroom for days on end; he’s the poet-prophet ignored during his lifetime. . .until the band picks him up like a hitchhiker pulled into a roadster for “On My Way Home.”

Tuesday, January 20, 2004
James Yorkston & the Athletes’ Moving Up Country is front porch music at a lake home in the hills. This is friends sitting up discussing relationships, love, and wanting that close-knit feeling between friends never to go away. This is kicking back, rocking together at the farmhouse. This is the kind of music that you want to take home at night; this is the kind of music that you want to wake up with in the morning.

I’ve found another album that evokes such a strong feeling of friends making Americana music together. Yorkston and friends make you wish you were there—while also delivering so much of the feeling of being there that the music truly transports you there to be among friends. Shooting John’s Moodswings can do just such a trick, too.

Shooting John

Like Yorkston’s Americana which comes via England, Shooting John’s Americana also arrives courtesy of Eurpoe—in this case, like Jonsson, from Sweden. The liner pictures of the band members during home studio recordings do a lot to recall the description of James Yorkston, but then the opening track “Nostalgia” does the rest of the trick. The band comes on full steam, everyone laying down enough country groove to spare, inviting the listener to just bob your head and mutter an encouraging, “Yeah, c’mon guys.”

Kristian Rimshult’s piano is lively, filling up the space. Gustav’s harmonica brings in the open air loneliness. Patrik Andersson’s drums rev up the space with the rush of familiar closeness—not a rock ‘n’ roll running away, more of a country folk gatherin’ around. Guitars from Gustav, Toby Ydestrandh, and Martin Björk wash over you. Peder Gravlund’s voice speaks right into your ear, sharing a knowing sonic nod.

That opening nostalgia for friends, times, music, and warmth hits you with a rhythm that keeps the energy alive even as following tracks may grow quiet, slower, or melancholic. “Nostalgia” is what brought you together, but you’re creating new memories now. And the sunlight breaks through the windows as Helena Arlock sings her achingly beautiful harmony vocals.

Friends, invite me now for the next recording session.

Thanks to Kieran McMahon, Soul Food, Shooting John, and Marilyn Records for the review CD.