I've listened to the album three times now, and here are my first impressions. I'm only describing the first six songs in more detail for now, as I don't have time for the rest. But I will add notes on the second half, too, as soon as I can.
First, very generally: Down the Road Wherever is, indeed, the most adventurous album for Mark since, yes, Love over Gold. He really enters new territory – in terms of instruments, sounds and styles he tries. It almost seems as if he’d given himself assignments: Can you write a jazz ballad? Do you know how to use a trombone? Can you be truly funky? Is it possible to combine cowboy lyrics with a spacey ambient club atmosphere? Mark, being Mark, of course gets an A grade on pretty much everything. Whether challenging himself in this way leads to one of his best albums or not will be up for debate, and I’ll have to listen to the album many, many more times before I’ll be able to judge it. It surely must have been a refreshing exercise for him, though, and that’s probably a good thing – if only because it might allow him to go back what he does best next time.
What surprised me most is that Down the Road Wherever doesn’t sound at all like the countryesque, rural on-the-road album you’d expect when seeing its cover and title. There’s zero country sounds on here (and hardly any rocky ones, either, by the way; his marketers must have sneaked in “rockier leanings” in the promo text just for, well, marketing reasons). There’s nothing pushing you down the road like Don’t You Get It, Long Highway or even Border Reiver, it’s much more a record that you’ll want to listen to at home, in an armchair.
Overall, the album has a distinct late-70s kind of feel. Funk, Jazz, horns, ambient and even a little disco. All this in Mark’s typical tender, impressionist, quiet style of late, so don’t expect any stompers. It’ll make you tap, not stomp. A band I had to think of often when listening to it was Steely Dan. The careful, sparse but elaborate arrangements often make you think of the American West Coast, and L.A. in particular. Oh, and speaking of L.A.: Gladly, Good on You Son remains the only song where Guy’s production really causes serious harm. His sounds are all over the place, but if you accept the strikingly different style of the album, you’ll have to admit that what he does often works quite well. Maybe it’s just because I had been warned by Good on You Son, but I wasn’t shocked by anything else in terms of production. Very surprised I was, yes, but no necessarily in a bad way.
On to the songs, then:
Trapper Man – Entry sound reminiscent of Telegraph Road, which is kind of fitting given the topic (“Trapper Man’s in from the hinterlands …”). Then drum/bass/rhythm guitar break in, quite brutally, and establish a rough, monotonous rhythm pattern that continues throughout the song. It takes some getting used to, especially as it is not filled with something like Richard’s guitar chords, as you would usually expect it. The sparseness of it makes you long for the chorus section, which has nice, dynamic chord changes culminating in “you’ll neeeeed the trapper man”. I would have preferred this song to be produced without Guy’s gimmicks, but they don’t do much harm. Good opener.
Back on the Dance Floor – Easily the most unexpected thing Mark produced since the mid-80s. Ambient space pop, you could call it. It opens with something that sounds like, erm, waves of space wind, maybe? The whole song would fit nicely on Willy DeVille’s Miracle album, which Mark produced in 1987. It’s moody and rhythmically interesting, with a soaring guitar sound, and there’s so many synths and special effects here that they don’t really disturb the sound picture – they make it. Guy must have put in quite some extra hours on this, and I’ll admit that his soundscape does work. The only open question is why on earth (or why on Jupiter, rather) they decided to use a song about Stetson hats and revolvers for a sonic experiment like this.
Nobody’s Child – This is the only song on here where I would say that “Mark does Mark”. It’s melancholic in a way that nobody does better than him. Very touching. Essentially a folk song, but with shimmering electric rhythm and lead guitar. It has a bit of a Camerado flavour, but it’s sadder, slower. Also reminded me of Fare Thee Well Northumberland. The high-notes of “Come a’cow cow yicky yicky yea” are almost whispered rather than sung, dreamlike. I love it – might turn out to be my favourite song on the album.
Just a Boy Away from Home – Mark playing (gorgeous!) slide guitar. The song from his back catalogue that comes closest would be Donegan’s Gone, but while I don’t mind Donegan, this is on a whole other level. It’s still a blues track, really, but then he weaves in the tune of You’ll Never Walk Alone and builds it up in quite dramatic fashion. He manages to do that just with his guitar and by way of composition, without any fancy production tricks. Admirable, and proof that he wouldn’t really need Guy to create a whole lot of atmosphere.
When You Leave – A jazz ballad. And, as such, as good as any. I keep being impressed how Mark can switch genres so effortlessly and successfully. Very sparsely arranged, in the vein of Monteleone. The song it mainly reminded me of, though, is A Place Where We Used to Live. As When You Leave describes a more common situation, it carries a bit less emotional weight than the former, which is an all-time favourite of mine, but it definitely is good. The trumpet is wonderful, and while I kind of regret that there’s no guitar solo – Mark could have done something even more wonderful – I do understand that it’s not necessary. Sometimes I get the impression that he’s preparing for a time when he won’t be able to play guitar anymore, but may still want to continue write songs. He obviously could.
Good on You Son – You know it. I still don’t like how it’s produced and what Guy does on it, but I must admit that it works better in the context of the album. And it’s obvious why it was picked as the single. It’s just the fastest, most radio-friendly song on the album, simple as that. Nigel’s sax work (which I like!) will be echoed later on in Nobody Does That.
My Bacon Roll – A wonderful song, kind of hard to describe. Like other songs on the album, it opens with a bit of ambient noise setting the scene (a diner). The tremolo guitar sound links it back to some of the songs on Kill to Get Crimson, and, musically and lyrically, it reminds me a bit of Home Boy. At it's center is that same kind of character - a loser you sympathize with - that Mark can pin down so well. The lyrics are just hilarious, but set against the melancholic tone of the music, you never quite know whether you should laugh or weep. Brilliant.
Nobody Does That – Straight-out funk. Again, I'm impressed how easily Mark can adopt a style that isn't his own - and kind of make it his own. Of course rhythm and syncopation were always things he did very well, and this song is as groovy as it gets. The whole sound is totally late 70s, slap bass, horns, saxophone, female background singers and all, including a Mickey-Mousey synth keyboard (played, I guess, by the fantastic Jim Cox) that I last heard in a TV series called Captain Future that was big here in the early 80s. Could work well as a replacement of Broken Bones as the concert opener, which wasn't completely different, but not half as much fun as this. If I'll ever need an example of a MK song that uses synths in a way that works in my opinion, I'll have this now. Happy.
Drover’s Road – A somber, almost solemn Celtic ballad, in the vein of Before Gas and TV. Showing Mark's earnest side and thus counterbalancing the previous song. Instantly makes you feel like the shepherd it's about, alone on a windy, foggy mountain top. I like it a lot, but I could see people say that it's "more of the same", something he did before in very similar fashion. They would be right, but hey, someone like James Brown (I still have to think of him after Nobody Does That) used to recycle one and the same thing throughout his whole career. It's okay for Mark to have a couple of similar songs, isn't it?
One Song at a Time – I said above that in spite of the album title, there are no obvious "driving" songs on the album, but this one might be the exception. Not just because it contains the title lyrics. It also feature a driving beat which, in combination with the Celtic instrumentation, makes it a sibling of Border Reiver and Laughs and Jokes and Drinks and Smokes. Together with Drover's Road, it forms the "Celtic" section of the album, but it's very different in mood, uplifting and light. That is, if you overlook the nice little dig he's having at the "poor old fakers trying to dance in my old shoes". Except for Alan Clark, Phil Palmer and Chris White, I can't see anyone not liking this.
Floating Away – Another song about a painter by Mark, and arguably his best one so far. Certainly the most lyrically interesting - the painter is painting himself, and he as a fat, ugly old man. I'll spare you my interpretation here, if you know what I mean. The song's moody in a Rüdiger kind of style, although I personally like this one better. Like other songs, it features some fancy sounds (even some scratching, window-cleaning, or what is it, Guy?), but they're used in an unobtrusive way that works and help to, erm, paint the picture. Beautiful melody supported by beautiful background voices.
Slow Learner – The second jazz ballad, produced the same way as When You Leave. Like on that one, Mark denies us a jazz guitar solo, even though he's proved with Fade to Black a long time ago that he can play incredible things in that style. Instead of it, the song features that Chet-Baker-style trumpet again. Fittingly, it's about as relaxed as a song can possibly be, and it appeals to me a lot because I'm a slow learner myself.
Heavy Up – This came as a total surprise. A cheery sing-along earworm that I would have expected from Paul Simon rather than from Mark. With its horn section and background choir, it has both a gospel and a Mexican tinge. Some people might call it cheesy, but with the music is definitely supposed to work as a contrast to the highly poignant lyrics. As in: "You want me to lighten up? Well, here's a light song for you, dumbass. How about you heavying up for me, now?" Not everybody will like or get this kind of irony, but it's something Mark has done repeatedly, and quite brilliantly, in my opinion. The tradition goes from Les Boys through Money for Nothing or Ticket to Heaven all the way to this. Good fun in my opinion, and a nice change from the more somber tracks.
Matchstick Man – A pure folk song, just Mark on guitar. The melody very, very similar to Heart of Oak, but the lyrics are much more personal here. And even though there's zero other instruments or effects on this, you can really see and smell the glistening snow. The loneliness of the character is reflected perfectly in the sparseness of the recording. If it should be Mark’s last song (Heaven forbid!), it would be a very unassuming, but also very fitting ending.
