Danny George Wilson - Danny And The Champions Of The World (Album)
Starting with The Band, and continuing throughout the latter half of the twentieth century, foreign bands have excelled at defining traditional American music. You could put it down to the fault of American musicians, but it’s seems more likely like the inspirational romance that’s indicative of all things Americana The Kerouacian practice of finding freedom through the road, or the vast heritage that makes American takes on folk, blues and country so unique.
Born in Queensland, and currently residing in London, Danny George Wilson is a 21st century example of the inspiration that unique American music can give. Granted, it’s probably not going to beat out Music From the Big Pink, but it’s still an enjoyable piece of Americana from across the pond.
Owing more the early 90’s Alt country subgenre than to any from of British or Australia music, Champions of the World is built on a legacy of Jayhawks type guitar jangle and vocal sensibilities that is as warm as it is nervous. Reminisant of happier Jeff Tweedy and a more comprehensible Bob Dylan, Wilson’s voice is a pleasure to hear.
A natural wordsmith- Wilson’s lyrics evoke a deeply traditional portrait. Emotional without being overwrought, hopeful without being naive, and dreamlike without being fanciful, they speaks of better times- and the rough path taken to get there. “You can’t buy love of the truest kind/ Not with all the diamonds in a diamond mine” come the opening words, introducing a theme of apprehensive happiness that runs throughout the album.
The musical highlight is the intricately flat picked guitar. Wilson flows through quick fire notes, effortlessly bringing the ever present acoustic from a supporting instrument to a main attraction. On The Truest Kind his hammer on’s are a rapid fire piston, driving the track. Meanwhile, the gorgeous finger picked I Still Believe is like a tribute to Towne Van Zandt’s Pancho and Lefty.
Well, at least for the first half of the song. It- and others like Shadow of the Wolf, are a tale of two musical cities. Exquisitely paced, the songs begin acoustic, building to a choral crescendo, with Wilson’s voice almost being drowned in a sea of background vocals and a musical cacophony. It’s a trend that continues on other tracks, with understated acoustic tracks growing into full band adventures.
Still, given the albums otherwise relative musical minimalism, one has to wonder why Wilson is billed a having a backup band. That’s not to say the band doesn’t earn some of it’s reputation- These Days is a full affair, with plucky mandolin, a backing vocal filled chorus and steady bassline. But, when strengths of the albums are those that Wilson himself brings- his laconic songwriting, his pleasant voice and flawless guitar work- it must be asked:, what were they during the recording process? Is it possible that they were- like this reviewer- simply enjoying the music?
