This slice of progressive folk music from the summer of 1970 is a charming recording by the duo of David McNiven and Angie Rew augmented by a rhythm section of Danny Thompson and Terry Cox, on loan from Pentangle. What's so funny about youthful possibility and childhood memory?
The constant stream of rediscovered legendary lost releases can be wearing for those of us who feel that many of those works were lost for good reason: they weren't up to much in the first place. The Strange Tale of Captain Shannon and the hunchback from Gigha deserves a chance, though, not least for the sincerity and openness of the singers. Their songs hail from a period in modern Europe (and maybe in the lives of McNiven and Rew) when everything seemed freer and permissible; an era of full employment, a loosening of gender roles and sexual morality, and cheap continental travel. The simple inspiration behind each poetic song is also made clear in the copious liner notes. The material is good enough to stand this transparency and the fact that the writers have woven some childhood experiences into song merely adds to the allure. The notes also give off a strong whiff of earnest late night philosophizing—the kind that some artists might choose to hide under a veil of cynicism.
The record opens with "Hymn to Sylvia," concerning McNiven's chance meeting with a female biker in England after he walked across Northern Spain and hitchhiked the length of France. This song and the closing title track (set on a remote Scottish island) are epic, immersing pieces that, along with Danny Thompson's upright bass and Terry Cox's drumming, give the album a solid yet flexible spine. Apart from a few small sections of forgivably pretentious gibberish (it was 1970 after all) the psychedelic or acid aspect to the music is so low-key as to be virtually non-existent. By which I mean that it sounds hypnotic and transporting without being wrapped in obvious elements that have come to be misheard as representative of psychedelic music.
Of course, not everyone will swallow the wide-eyed optimism of lyrics such as "So draw your magic circles in the sky/Take a chance on all your dreams before they die," and those who enjoy the naturalistic production may be outnumbered by those who find it wooden. I find that, along with the nimble clarity of the guitar work and richness of the voices, the "flawed" lyrics and "dated" production are actually the strengths of this recording. And the fact that the duo still live in the landscape of Scotland lends an air of resilience to their music. After all, anyone could be a hippy troubadour in the Californian sunshine, right?
Previous member Carolyn Davis is featured on one song and her voice bears a pleasing resemblance to that of the great Lal Waterson. There is an affecting breeziness to Rew's voice and McNiven's has a sensitivity akin to that of Lindisfarne or (the vastly underrated) Ralph McTell. McTell is best known for his recurring hit single about the plight of London's homeless people, but it's worth hearing The Boy With A Note (his album about Dylan Thomas) and Kenny the Kangaroo and (the imaginary village) Tickle on the Tum are among the best albums of genuinely innocent songs ever made.
The group take take their name from a 1950s Italian movie, a romantic comedy. Captain Shannon… was originally intended for release as a double with Bread Dreams and Love's Amaryllis album which is also just reissued by Sunbeam Records.
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