Paul Roland

Here are two reviews for a musician who has been quietly releasing cds for nearly 30 years now, although he did take a break from recording in the nineties/early zero decade.  The two releases reviewed here fall on opposite sides of that break.  Check out his MySpace page to hear some songs, and for other links.  He's an author too!

Paul Roland “Danse Macabre” LP  (Bam Caruso, 1987)

This release was my introduction to Paul Roland.  I bought it from a cassette tape bargain bin at Tower Records sometime in the late eighties or early nineties, my purchase based purely on the cover image and the song titles.  Thankfully, my gamble paid off.  At the time, this release was sort of an anomaly for me – it didn’t seem to fit into any of the musical genres I had explored.  Terms like “psych pop” (as his music is sometimes called), were unknown to me.  Looking at his music from my vantage point at the beginning of 2008, I must say that it still doesn’t fit solidly in any one genre.  He still stands out as an individual in an art form littered with followers.  I guess the closest comparison I could make would be to someone like Robyn Hitchcock (who actually makes an appearance on one of Roland’s records), although he seems to have found somewhat of a home amongst the goths and neofolkies.  The first song, Witchfinder General, is an upbeat one, with some violin embellishment and a driving beat.  This is followed by Madame Guillotine, which plays out like a lively march towards the blade.  Madame Guillotine herself seems like a rather horrific character (“cadaverous, obscene”) and is in keeping with the subjects of most of Roland’s other songs.  Despite his almost uniformly grim subject matter, Roland’s phrasing and delivery suggest the relative innocence of a simpler era.  Of course, a closer listen to the lyrics reveals that the past is no more innocent than the present.  Roland excels at presenting the songs in a way that a contemporary of, say… Jack the Ripper, might have if said person had had access to rock instrumentation.   Okay – back to the songs now.  The Great Edwardian Air Raid, one of my favorite songs on the album, is evocative of a slowly unfolding attack, as any Edwardian Air Raid would have had to have been, of course.  The song itself is haunting and hummable at the same time.  The next song, The Hanging Judge, is upbeat, with well-placed violin embellishments.  Sort of like an Edwardian rock song.  This is followed by Still Falls the Snow, which slows things down again to haunting effect.  Matilda Mother comes next, sounding like an uneasy bedtime story, with the line, “Oh mother, tell me more…” sticking in my head with its implied sense of wonder.  Gabrielle, which is the start of side two on the vinyl version, is an upbeat, albeit haunting, love song with a chorus that I occasionally find myself singing as I walk around the house.  The elegiac Requiem, up next, slows things down just long enough to provide a sonic backdrop to the artwork on the cover of this release (a horse-drawn hearse).  Buccaneers follows this with the album’s most “rocking” moment.  It’s a story of a poor unfortunate waylaid by a press-gang and taken to sea.  Penny whistle and a thunderous beat drive it along to its conclusion.  The strains of a sitar usher in (and out again) In the Opium Den, where “ecstasy waits/coiled like a snake/draw from the hookah/the serpent will awake”.  Roland knows just how to create an atmosphere with just a few well-placed notes (in much the same way that authors like Algernon Blackwood or Arthur Machen could create atmosphere with a few well-placed words).  The album ends with a trip to the frozen north, where we meet Norse gods in The Twilight of the Gods.  All in all, this release (and most of Roland’s other releases) are the audio equivalent of reading nineteenth century ghost stories by candlelight (you've heard of hardcore, grindcore, etc. - well, I give you MRJames-core!).  The scares are more poetic, less in-your-face, but no less effective.  Some might say they’re more effective.  I just might have to agree.  We live in an age of overkill, so it’s nice to be able to step away from it once in awhile.  Paul Roland provides the staircase.

Paul Roland “Pavane” cd (2004)

Compared to his early releases, “Pavane” draws from a much richer array of instruments.  On hand for this recording we have:  acoustic guitar, harpsichord, pipe organ, piano, accordion, woodwind, lute, bass, electric guitar, violin, celtic harp, mandolin, recorders, saxophones, hurdy gurdy, and percussion.  At times, the songs sound like they are being played by a small orchestra.  Roland’s favorite subjects of ghosts, the Devil, murder, etc., are all here, with the instruments helping take them into realms unattainable to mere rock instrumentation.  The album begins with a short instrumental harpsichord-driven piece called “Mr. Nyman’s Garden” (reprised at the end as “Mr.Nyman’s Music Room”).  This sets the mood nicely.  The next few songs, “Dark Carnival” (typical Roland), “Musette” (with an accordion-laced chorus adding a carnivalesque atmosphere), “Dice with the Devil” (gambling), and “Lucifer’s Servant”, come and go pleasantly enough, but it’s the second half of the cd that I find myself really paying attention to.  “Pavane” is a Roland-penned murder ballad, enhanced by angelic-sounding female backing vocals.  The murderer hauntingly laments, “Oh, but you were my prettiest child.”  This is shiver inducing stuff if you allow yourself to really get drawn into the song.  This is followed by “Phantoms”, which tells the tale of a séance, in which the bereaved-living pester the peaceful dead (or do they?).  Again, a haunting song.  “Easter 1916” tells of Irish soldiers struggling for a free Ireland, with the memorable chorus of “A terrible beauty is born from the flames of fair Dublin City.”  Much to the annoyance of my kids, I always sing along to this one.  “Hymn” strips the instrumentation down to a lonely pipe organ, and tells the tale of a priest who, as death nears, has grown uncertain that he will go to Heaven.  It does indeed sound like a hymn, if my limited experience with hymns is anything to go by.  Next, “Voodoo Doll” kicks in with a hypnotic, zombie-shuffle rhythm which occasionally sounds like it is embellished by a steel drum.  Again, Roland shows his mastery at adding just the right amount of accent to a piece to evoke a certain region of the world or time period.  In this case, it’s the Caribbean. 

Over all, a great listen - especially the second half.  All of his other albums (many of which are being re-issued this year) are worth tracking down as well.  Now all he needs to do is tour California.  We do have cold and fog here too, you know...