|
Graham Coxon - The Kiss Of Morning
Reviewed
by NME,
12 October 2002
 There
are few mountain ranges in Camden, nor
is the Mississippi delta known to mingle with NW1's
canals, but on the fourth solo album by Blur's
semi-estranged guitarist, geography is no impediment.
He's taken 'The Kiss Of Morning' further
into the old American South and deeper into beardy folk
cellars.
On 'Baby You're Out Of Your Mind',
dusty acoustic picking and ultra-trad cadences lead into
lonesome whistling. It's 'Blowin' In The Wind'
re-configured as a London love song. Then for 'Mountain
Of Regret' Coxon slips on metaphorical dungarees
for a country ballad, complete with pedal steel from BJ
Cole and a bassline worthy of the Soggy
Bottom Boys.
No doubt there's an element of defiance in
'Britain's most inventive guitarist' going retro.
Perverse or not, it's a tribute to his abilities that he
makes it work. His wavering voice stops the ballads
descending into cliché. Then, as if having claimed his
right to reject the narrow world of rock, he U-turns
haphazardly, flinging forth the fuzzed-out 'Do
What You're Told To'.
'Kiss...' sees Coxon
oscillate between rage and a need to confront a long list
of emotional damage. The 13 songs bounce between his love
of punk/grunge and his affection for folk/blues, and
perhaps they're best where the two mesh into an urban
hobo style that mixes elements of Nick Drake,
Elliott Smith, Pavement,
Sonic Youth and Nirvana.
'Bitter Tears' ascends from acoustic
introspection into a fuzzily enveloping groove. 'Escape
Song' coaxes muffled psychedelia out of the olde
amps. The slouchy 'It Ain't No Lie'
finds him haunted by Britpop, "Wandering around
Camden Town feeling like a fishy in a can", a
problem which he resolves with a burst of neo-Hendrix
guitar. If the final acoustic confession 'Good
Times' represents one too many moments where the
dark mirror calls, it's entirely forgivable.
'Kiss...' operates on a
level of perversity, honesty and originality that blows
most bands out of the water. With a warmth that's almost
anti-Gorillaz, this is both a Primrose Hillbilly
fuzz-rock album to cherish and an auspicious manifesto
for a post-Blur existence.
8/10 Roger
Morton
|
