Once a week, around lunchtime on a Tuesday, renowned journalist and broadcaster Pete Paphides takes to the air of Soho Radio to host two hours of wonderful music, largely from his preferred format of vinyl. As it has developed, the show has featured some riveting and often elongated interviews and performances by some of the world’s finest musicians. Free of advertising and formats, Paphides plays what he likes and chats for as long as is wise. It is, predictably, a brilliant listen. Despite airing at an unhelpful time, all of the shows are archived via Mixcloud and they are well worth exploring. Back on March 31st, when I happened to be enjoying a week off work and wanted something to play while I rearranged my records, I had the great pleasure of hearing one of the shows that featured American artist Daniel Knox. He proved suitably engaging, both in conversation and performance. Advance to just prior to two hours here and you’ll be similarly transfixed. The inevitable result was an enduring love affair with his self-titled third album which is my favourite of this year.
His label boss talks of Knox’s determination to avoid any pigeon-holing and in the interview I mentioned above he expresses a desire not to describe his own music. As someone who is called upon to find such words, I’m inclined to agree. There are hints of the 1920s and 30s influences which are more obvious on his earlier releases, but one is also reminded of Nilsson, Scott Walker, The Divine Comedy and, in his quieter moments, Tindersticks. Primarily built around the piano, these ten songs have a beautiful sense of space to them, notes drawn out and pauses left as is appropriate. The record as a whole is captivating and it’s refreshingly difficult to do anything else I’ve heard in 2015.
‘Incident At White Hen’ grows from a burbling synth into something rather grand, the machine gun fire of distant, reverb-coated drums and shimmering percussion elevating the piece to wondrous heights. For a man who pointedly doesn’t retread the old cliches of love songs, that’s not to say this music can’t be stridently emotional in its power to connect. An instinctive and emphatic performer, Knox is a rare talent.
‘High Pointe Drive’ advances in ceremonial fashion, all elongated vowels and ominous piano, evoking a sense of Scott Walker at his most sonorous. It forms the album’s centrepiece and, at almost seven minutes in length, it perfectly demonstrates Knox’s knack for knowing where to take each song, as there are stylistic switches all over the place.
‘Don’t Touch Me’ is imbued with a glorious, high-camp sense of the dramatic in its account of the artist’s fear of germs. ‘White Oaks Mall’, meanwhile, is about driving past a familiar location on numerous occasions and how it has provided a similar experience to so many people, twitchy strings gradually building to a soaring, atmospheric wall of sound on a par with Knox’s vocal.
Still working as a projectionist in the Music Box Theater in his base of Chicago, it’s clear that points on the map matter and place names and businesses feature across the record. Casting back to his childhood, ‘Lawrence and MacArthur’ is an intersection in Springfield, Illinois, where he grew up, known for its copious accidents. Knox would sit and observe, studying the people who emerged and filming footage of what ensued. The two minute song of that name has been released with a video crafted from some of those recordings, but it’s also musically fascinating with its drawn out drum sounds and delicate, lulling delivery.
‘Blue Car’ opens the record, flittering synths hinting at a rather reserved piece, only for Knox to unleash his stunning voice at its halfway point. It’s an out and out hairs on the back of the neck moment and all the other tired old phrases I’m meant to avoid but which perfectly allow you to grasp what I’m getting at. Apparently, it’s a response to perceived time travel, when ten year old Knox encountered a driverless car at his house and assumed it must there be himself coming back to say something to his younger form. It’s a staggering statement of intent and a piece which is revisited on the penultimate track, ‘Car Blue’, beginning a little like ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ with a resonant, closely mic-ed piano. The strings soon emerge, doing little to dispel the comparison, but also referencing the melody of the album’s first track.
Events conclude with ‘14 15 111′, excerpted from a longer piece by the same name Knox wrote to accompany footage shot by artist John Atwood. A lyrical callback to ‘Blue Car’ is notable before a choir burst in and take the record somewhere else entirely only moments before it ends. It’s an enjoyably odd way to round out these ten songs but entirely fitting when one recalls Knox’s reluctance to be labelled.
With songs culled from several other projects and recorded en route to the final part of a trilogy he has been working on for the best part of decade, ‘Daniel Knox’ is a genuinely incredible album. It received minimal coverage upon release but all I’ve encountered who have heard it seem to love it. All of which suggests that it’s just a matter of connecting it to the right ears and letting these wonderful songs do the rest. My album of 2015 has little to tie it to its year of release but it is a true highpoint of what has been a very fine time for music.