The Winter Journey – This Is The Sound Of The Winter Journey As I Remember It
The Day Woodpigeon Came To Visit® (the anniversary of which, much like Bonfire Night or Christmas, will become an annual holiday for PULP during which we light fires and remember our failings as human beings) is a fairly significant high point in my year thus far with PULP. It kind of encapsulated my PULP experience very nicely – we thought it would be great to invite bands to our office, deciding that the very worst that could happen would be that they’d all say no and nobody would ever remember we attempted it. Luckily, some said yes, and one of those bands was Woodpigeon.
When we went to see Woodpigeon’s third performance of that day at the Deaf Institute after they’d utterly rocked the faces of both PULP and the BBC, we arrived early enough to play a quick hand of Support Act Roulette, a game that – as I’m sure we’re all aware – often results with losses comparable to Russian Roulette, but with far higher chances of getting a metaphorical bullet in the head. We’d already seen Woodpigeon once, which really heaped the pressure on the opening bands – however, we arrived at the beginning of The Winter Journey’s set, and were sufficiently mesmerized by their performance to investigate further once the Deaf Institute had turfed us back onto the street. This does not happen often with local supports, namely because “local support” tends to mean a home-grown knock-off of whatever the NME is pronouncing to be “cool” at any given moment, and all too often have I seen four carbon copies of the same teenage boy take to the stage to serenade us with their not-quite-covers of the influences du jour.
The Winter Journey, however, were anything but. The Winter Journey consists of two people: Anthony Braithwaite and Suzy Mangion – one man with a guitar, and one woman with everything but the kitchen sink. Pianos, lone drums, and – at one point – a live tap dance accompaniment in the middle of the crowd. It was kind of a Die! Die! Die!-esque spin on an Ann Miller number. While all this may, in print, whiff of twee “ironic” novelty, it was executed with an absolute poker face, and taken absolutely seriously – and as such, it was a real barnstormer. The songs didn’t hurt either; gently-performed folk numbers that stayed firmly in the mind long after the Winter Journey had vacated the stage.
So it was with no hesitation I threw myself into their album, “This Is The Sound Of The Winter Journey As I Remember It”.
To get straight to the point, it’s a great album – considering the relative limitations that come built-in with acoustic folk duos, they’ve made an album with a broad scope of variety. But while the songs all bring different moods and timbres to the surface, one thing struck me about the album quite early on – it sounds remarkably serious. And this is possibly what sets it apart from other albums of its sort.
It’s not necessarily solemn (even though songs such as Malachi My Messenger and Spring Song sound like a halfway house between Victorian hymn books and modern Americana heroes such as late Whiskeytown or The Sadies’ acoustic repertoire), but the whole album is essentially very serious in tone: even songs like Clean Kick – which is a quick, catchy, poppy jaunt – is not to be taken lightly. I’m not sure how they’ve done this – the production is quite sparse and the assorted noises that come forward are given lots of space, which has an inherently seductive quality; it lures you in, and only once you’ve given the album two or three listens are you rewarded by its subtleties, of which there are many. And at times, you will forget that this album was constructed by two people. If the subtle sense of authority with which this album is imbued was a deliberate ploy, it was a master stroke – it sets it distinctly apart from the pack, and makes repeat listenings a necessity (and a treat).
There’s not a great deal else I can say about this album, so I’ll simply leave it to you to investigate it. If you’re in any way interested in folky, bluesy pop music – if you like Elliott Smith, or Roy Harper, or indeed Woodpigeon – do pick up this album. Honestly. It’s a real treat, it’s immensely refreshing, and we should all be thankful that albums like these are being made on our doorstep. Originality and innovation is alive and well in Manchester, and The Winter Journey’s album is a prime example. Go and get it.
Take a look at The Winter Journey live in session for PULP in our rather salubrious office…
The Winter Journey can be found on MySpace and their album is available either from them, Timbreland Recordings, Piccadilly Records or Boomkat Records. The first five hundred are hand-made, hand-stamped limited editions, and will not be out of place with such personal effects as your first-edition Sherlock Holmes collections and personal gramophones.
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