Salut! Reviews

Cats on Trees, Sirens and une exception française

Every now and then,
I allow myself to stray from the tightly drawn waters of folk and folk offshoots and draw attention to something else that deserves a listen.

Since returning to France after London hibernation, I have found myself stopping to appreciate one song that keeps cropping up on the radio. Lots of changes in tempo, adorable female voice, great tune ... in short, a bloody good pop record.

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Cloé, Maya and the two sisters (Hilary James and Janet Giraudo): just saying this


The car is a great vehicle
of parental indoctrination. Play your own music a few times without comment on long journeys and, soon, routine-loving children - if small enough - will ask for it again.

I remember my daughters wanting me to play a wonderful Box Fox and Stu Luckley album, Nowt So Good'll Pass, probably in cassette form, and especially liking (and getting the regional dialect) in A Begging I Will Go.

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Danny Thompson: well Connected, wholly convincing


Regular visitors to the little Salut! empire - and no, I don't just mean the one or two that come to this particular corner of it - know that the pages of all four sites are open to guest writers. Step forward Mike Dennison*, whose first contribution might have seemed more likely to be at Salut! Sunderland. Instead, noticing that no review of Danny Thompson's album Connected has appeared here, despite having been available for some months, he volunteered one of his own. Read on ...

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Ange Hardy: in praise of neglected folk

Salut! Live has a substantial archive that the sidebars allow you to explore but, when it comes to new material, the site necessarily falls victim to other demands on my time. Bourgeoise as this will sound, I need to earn a living. Labours of love are fine, but cannot always be allowed to get in the way of proper work. But a promise is a promise, and I said elsewhere that a review of Ange Hardy's album would appear this weekend ...

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Fairport Convention: they're old enough, they know better


"But you promised
to take me to see Fairport Convention."

And so I had. A cheeky, speculative e-mail had been sent to the right people, the recipient had intended a positive response. Both sender and receiver then promptly forgot all about it; with just days to go before the big return to France from UK hibernation, it was looking less touch than go.

But two dates remained possible, albeit with long trips from London, and one was turned to reality. Thank heavens it wasn't the Berwick one. Fairport's tour was duly caught at the wonderful venue that is the City Varieties in Leeds and everyone, including the nephew who interrupted the customary starvation diet of student life to accept a bumper plate of steak and chips followed by chocolate dessert at the adjoining White Swan, was happy.

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Kate Rusby: class, maturity and mumsy natter

Kate and declanKate with Declan O'Rourke

No sooner was my back turned than Kate Rusby, who once seemed destined to remain a teenager forever, reinvented herself as a mother-of-two with mumsy babble about little Daisy and Phoebe and the doting grandparents over from Coleraine.

And the growing up phase has spread to the music, too.

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