Michael Chapman, Dean McPhee and Daniel Land @ Lexington, London 29/01/12

There is a fairly telling moment, about three-quarters of the way through this mostly excellent night of three guitarists, at the Lexington, between the Angel and King’s Cross.

Michael Chapman has just finished a remarkable solo piece and is off to prepare for an improvised session with his support acts, Dean McPhee and Daniel Land. I can’t recall the exact words, but the gist is, “This will finally stop people claiming I’m a folksinger.”

At 70, and finally, justifiably acclaimed as a more-or-less great songwriter and guitarist, Chapman has arrived at what we might call his ‘late-period John Fahey moment’. His early classics (“Fully Qualified Survivor”, “Rainmaker”) are being lavishly reissued. He is encouraged to revisit his old songs instrumentally, to showcase a liquid and elaborate technique (“Words Fail Me”). He has a new generation of admirers singing his praises.

What else to do, then, than act on the encouragement of one of those fans (Thurston Moore) and embark on a new venture as an avant-garde improviser? Tonight closes with Chapman, McPhee and Land working on the hoof in response to Chapman’s latest album, “The Resurrection And Revenge Of The Clayton Peacock” (a Leeds United reference to Adam Clayton, perhaps?). First, though, each takes a solo turn.

I’ve written a few times in the past about Dean McPhee (on his “Son Of The Black Peace” album and “Brown Bear” EP, for a start), and usually compared his reverberant solo electric pieces with Vini Reilly and The Durutti Column.

Tonight though, while no less atmospheric, there is something twanging and bluesier about his lovely instrumentals, which remind me of a bunch of acts who acted as dusty, rootsy, notionally more ‘organic’ outriders of post-rock in the 1990s: Pell Mell and Scenic, say, and perhaps Two Dollar Guitar. It’s especially apparent in a new tune called “Evil Eye”, rattling train rhythms cutting a swathe through blasted expanses.

Daniel Land, a new name to me, also seems to have certain 1990s antecedents for his quasi-ambient, fx-heavy sound: namely, players who stretched out the shoegazing template like Fuxa and some of Flying Saucer Attack’s Bristol associates (Light, maybe? Hard to remember now), as well as one who helped formulate that same template, Robin Guthrie. Not bad.

Michael Chapman, meanwhile, seems vigorously intent on proving, in the space of about 15 minutes, that he’s the match for most any revered Takoma School guitarist, old or new. The virtuosity is breathtaking, as Chapman uses his wedding ring as a slide and ramps up into a Jimmy Page-like flurry of notes (gifts already apparent on his ’69 debut, “Rainmaker”, it transpires). But there’s a sensuousness and warmth, too, a feel that makes the display so much more than a kind of downhome technoflash.

Chapman is one of the relatively few British guitarists to push the folk idiom into more experimental territory, compared with so many of his American contemporaries. Like John Fahey’s late work, though, there’s a sense that a piece like “Clayton Peacock”, diverting as it is, might signal a certain range, ambition and mischievous instinct while not necessarily being the best showcase of his skills.

Consequently, while this live take (rehearsed in 30 minutes, according to a wry McPhee; the remaining 90 minutes of their time slot was given over to “wine”) has less of the faintly industrial grind of the “Clayton Peacock” album, Chapman’s general Thurstonning is often too subtle to cut through the diligent work of McPhee and through Land’s soupier environments. Every few minutes, he revisits a bass-like theme, distantly reminiscent of Funkadelic, that is pleasingly incongruous in a piece which mostly has a kind of free rock predictability to it, if that makes sense. Mostly, though, the endeavour feels more like a forward-thinking way to end a good night, rather than a climax.

Uncut Magazine 2012 John Mulvey

Michael Chapman, Dean McPhee and Daniel Land @ Lexington, London 29/01/12

At the age of 71, Michael Chapman is in sharp mind and defiant mood. "Tonight will finally put to rest this idea that I'm a fookin' folk singer", he snaps, with dry humour. For the collaboration with guitarists Dean McPhee and Daniel Land that 'recreates' The Resurrection And Revenge Of The Clayton Peacock, Chapman's first album of improvised noise from last year and concludes this compelling concert, the trio claim to have had a mere half an hour of rehearsal time.

This is Chapman, encouraged in the first instance by Thurston Moore (who released the first limited vinyl run of Clayton Peacock), exploring the contours of spontaneity and interaction, in a remarkable late blooming of creativity. As a result of this, he is reaching a whole new audience. His previous work as both folk singer and composer of music for solo guitar is at last being made widely available and getting its due appreciation.

Before the closing extravaganza though, Chapman and special guests Dean McPhee and Daniel Land perform short sets of their own. McPhee's opening performance is magical, with a swathe of reverb turning the sound of his lone electric guitar into something sepulchral and imposing. In a set that is sadly all too brief, we get an impressive snapshot of McPhee's artistry - there's one track from his excellent Son Of The Black Peace album and one from his Brown Bear EP as well as a clutch of new compositions that seem to further develop and enhance his playing style.

The new material ('Evil Eye' especially) has a rolling, rhythmic quality to it - a greater urgency than his more contemplative pieces. What also really cuts through in this performance is McPhee's incredibly strong melodic sense. This music is about a good deal more than the reverb-soaked atmospheres McPhee creates. The chiming, crystal clear attack of McPhee's melodies are occasionally reminiscent of Patrick Patterson from the great Cymande, although this is of course a very different context and it would be surprising if McPhee had even heard that band. There's one lengthy new piece (which might be called 'Fatima's Hand') which also shows McPhee's fluency in his exposition of his themes. The older compositions ('Star Burial' and 'Sky Burial') bookend the set and demonstrate McPhee's skill in establishing mood and atmosphere.

Daniel Land approaches the guitar more unconventionally, often abandoning correct techniques altogether in his search for ever more fuzzy and disorientating sheets of sound. Much of this seems to be down to his combination of added effects. It's briefly mesmerising, and provides for an intriguing contrast with the more studied approaches of McPhee and Chapman.

Chapman's solo set is even more mercilessly concise, but within its short time span is a wealth of wonders. Chapman's dexterity remains peerless and he has delved ever more deeper into the sound of both the blues and the Takoma school of guitar players (John Fahey particularly). A wonderful moment comes when Chapman uses his wedding ring as a slide. The music is somehow both graceful and attacking - full of spirit, exuberance and feeling.

Inevitably, the advertising of this gig as Michael Chapman plays ...Clayton Peacock turns out to be somewhat misleading. It is of course completely impossible to recreate a single piece of improvised music that exists only once. In actual fact, this intriguing collaboration deftly balances the contrasting styles of Chapman, McPhee and Land and takes a rather different direction away from the sound of the album. Tonight's music is less abrasive, but no less engaging, travelling through a satisfying variety of textures and moods.

Of the three, it is Chapman who plays most conventionally - anchoring the improvisation in his own inherited musical language. He plays recognisable chords, as well as returning, with brilliant results, to a surprisingly groovy ostinato bass figure. This rhythmic impetus drifts in and out of the ether. Too often, this approach to improvisation leads to the conscious abandoning of rhythm as a musical element. It seems that Chapman has recognised that this can often result in a musical cul-de-sac.

Given the excess of effects being utilised, it's remarkable how well blended the three musicians are. What could come across as a confrontational exercise instead becomes a moment of mutual exploration. Having said that, it all ends with one final flourish of feedback - a tinnitus-inducing reminder of Chapman's defiance.

Daniel Paton www.musicohm.com

Michael Chapman at the Lexington: Resurrecting the Clayton Peacock

Lancastrian guitarist Dean McPhee opened proceedings with a long solo set, which was followed by a shorter set by Mancunian Daniel Land.

With a Fender Telecaster, a tremelo pedal and a good deal of reverb, McPhee span out cleanly-picked long-form melodies with full chords of a languid, opalescent tonality. His material is clean-lined and mesmerizing, rather too much so at times; a little more grit under the shell might produce some real pearls.

Daniel Land is best known for the “shoegaze”-influenced music he makes with his group, The Modern Painters, but here he played something quite different, an amplified variation of the multi-layered ambient music he records as riverrun, using an array of pedal effects to produce a rich wash of electric tonalities.

Michael Chapman followed Land with a very brief solo set of highlights from his recent Trainsongs career retrospective such as “Slowcoach”: a sequence of warm, dancing patterns of hypnotically cyclical finger picking, presumably selected for its contrast to the free-form Clayton Peacock.

On the Clayton Peacock album, Chapman, playing solo, achieves a rich, rebarbative sound, as if the recording were realized in a cavernous metal cistern. Its sonics are hardly analogous to those of the influences most often attributed to Chapman, such as Jack Rose or John Fahey (whose 1959 recording “The Death of The Clayton Peacock” inspired Chapman’s album title). They are more comparable to the hazier shades of Neil Young’s La Noise, or even the less blasted interludes from Young’s Thurston-Moore-influenced Arc-Weld live tapes, though glints of Chapman’s spiky finger-picking ripple through. http://dalstonsound.wordpress.com

Folk Legends' appeal stands test of time
Michael Chapman and Bridget St John The Prom

FORTY years ago in the heady days of the Folk Boom, Michael Chapman's Fully Qualified Survivor was a classic album treasured by almost everyone on the folk scene. Four decades on anf the Yorkshire - born singer, songwriter and guitarist has proved himself to be just that , a fully qualified survivor. If one survivor from the Seventies folk scene wasnt enough, he was sharing thge bill for this gig with Bridget St John. For 20 years she's lived in New York in semi-retirement, so this was a very rare chance to see one of the great voices of that era. She opened the show with a version of Dylan's Just Like A Woman, slowed right down and given an almost folky slant that demonstrated that her voice has lost little of its deep warm richness. Her long association with the late and very great John Martyn was remembered with a very fine version of of his lovely Back To Stay, and her clos friendship with Michael Chapman by a version of his very catchy Rabbit Hills. She closed with Ask Me No Questions her breathtaking song which still sounds as beautiful as it did in 1969.

Truly Underground Jack Rose, Michael Chapman

Helderberg House, NY, USA Oct. 8 2008

Jack Wingate, Albany purveyor of underground music via Flipped Out Records and his own flipped-out band, Burnt Hills, has been known to host quite the doozy of a basement show from time to time, usually on the psychedelic/noise side of the fence. An altogether gentler but no less intense vibe suffused the recent visit by hallowed British folkie Michael Chapman and esteemed Philadelphia-based guitarist Jack Rose to the surreal confines of the Wingate cavern. What occurred was an evening of acoustic-guitar playing par excellence that could not go unreported.

Seated near a grinning, electric pumpkin head, a cup of Maker’s Mark near at hand, Rose played a mesmerizing set of instrumental set pieces that melded Eastern and Western musical styles with a thrilling and virtuosic ease. The 30-something Rose dove headlong into what could only be described as a raga, his perpetually moving picking hand creating the swirling drone of a sitar as he picked out notes seldom heard on a Western flat-top guitar. Halfway through this first tune, the melodies wandered westward to Israel, perhaps a reference that Yom Kippur had started a few hours earlier on in the evening. Rose followed with a tour de force of fingerpicked blues that seemed to take up where Mississippi John Hurt and the ragtime guitar of Blind Blake left off. Rose finished his set with improvisatory forays that seemed to try and reconcile the disparate heritages of European and Middle Eastern classical music—an inspiring and extremely difficult feat.

Michael Chapman, while far from a household name, comes from the same school of guitar and songcraft as his better-known peers Bert Jansch and Roy Harper. A wizened but robust raconteur with a wreath of white hair framing a friendly, grandfatherly face, Chapman was touring the United States for just the third time last 30 years. Setting up his songs with backstories that were simultaneously revealing, poignant and funny, Chapman gave relaxed and masterful versions of the recent “After All This Time” and the comparatively ancient “Little Molly’s Dream.” Recalling a dinner party with the late folk giant John Fahey and his wife while on a visit to his home in East L.A. (it involved the host getting completely naked while still at the dinner table), Chapman followed with a tribute of sorts, “Fahey’s Flag”—“a pastiche, which is French for a piss-take.” Like Rose, Chapman looked beyond the borders of the West with a tempestuous instrumental influenced by Indonesian gamelan music, before ending on a simply revelatory pass through “Winter in Memphis,” a bracing account of a dark night’s travel through the American South.

The intimate nature of a person alone with just their voice and their instrument is often lost in more open spaces; the basement setting served each of the performers on this memorable night by focusing one’s attention on just what a wonder the melding of mind, body and soul can be, especially with artists of such dedication and integrity.

—Mike Hotter

The Half Moon 2007

When you've already seen an artist live 25 times, it's unlikely that they will still surprise you. However, Michael's set at The Half Moon Putney on Sunday, was arguably the greatest that I've ever seen him play. I would even go as far as saying that it was one of the best gigs I've ever seen (and for a mere £8.00!). Michael gave an extraordinary performance of musical virtuosity. His voice was on top form, and he fully displayed his exceptional skills as an acoustic guitarist (not even stopping for a break).

He was in great spirits, and brought in some original humour. Michael opened with "Only Pretend" and "That Time of Night". He then played two songs from "one of his few heroes" Mose Allison - namely "Parchman Farm" and one I hadn't heard before. Other recent classics included "Sometimes" and "Memphis in Winter", and from earlier days - the beautiful "Among the Trees" and "One Time Thing" (which never fail to tug at the heart strings). The anthems were there - "Postcards of Scarborough”, "Wrecked Again" and “Soulful Lady”, and a few great instrumentals including "Caddo Lake" and (most notably) "La Madrugada". The Half Moon is an excellent venue, with respectful audience and tasteful lighting (and seemingly smoke-free). It was great to meet other Chapman supporters, Debbie and Colin and Ruth and Patric there. It was also good to see Ralph McTell and Wizz Jones sitting in the bar, afterwards.

 

Michael Chapman Sunday October 24th ; The 12 Bar; Preston.