Have there been any other albums recorded on ships? This record could be a bit of a first, unless of course the answer is “yes”.
HMS President (formerly known as HMS Saxifrage for any naval fans confused at this point) was originally used as a lure to German U-Boats, disguised cunningly as a Merchant Vessel but was rather heavily armed. For this, it was classed as a “Mystery Ship”, and this term that makes it a rather apt location for the recording of Erland and the Carnival’s second album, following hot on the heels of last year’s brilliant self-titled debut.
Considering the short amount of time between their debut and this, it’s quite astonishing just how Erland and the Carnival have honed their craft so finely. Everything that was on their previous record is here, but Nightingale as an album is more of a focused whole instead of its predecessor’s eccentric introduction to the band.
In some little ways this is initially a bit of a shame as part of that album’s charm was in its strange approaches to its contents and a twisted folk logic splashed liberally across the music and lyrics. But further delving into the songs and their surroundings on Nightingale, all these things are still there but not as overtly as before, leaving each track as a definite E&tC song with weirdly familiar elements carefully and partially hidden away.
Overt influences here are as eclectic and characteristic as ever, collecting odd parts of a collective culture and making non-musical influences just as much a part of the band’s makeup as the amalgamation of centuries-old folk, 1960s psychedelic pop and quaint electronica (is that a stylophone during the intro to Wealldie?).
The album’s arresting cover is taken from a photo of the Enfield Poltergeist occurrences of the late 1970s, with Janet Hodgson apparently being thrown up in the air by the family’s resident ghost. Ancient dream-poem Dream of the Rood dates from round about the 8th Century, and Bernard Hermann pops up with snippets of the soundtrack to weirdy Hitchcock thriller Vertigo during the intro to Emmeline. Oh, and lead single Map of an Englishman is based on the Turner Prize-winning artist Grayson Perry’s detailed and surreal piece, turning the contents of his consciousness into a map of a mythical island. Not your obvious sphere of pop influence then, and all the better for it – these aren’t just thrown in to be windswept and interesting, these are all intrinsic parts of Nightingale’s character. I’m sure there are loads more curious snippets hidden in here, and it adds to the fun of E&tC’s work in trying to find all the clues to their musical persona.
It’s a lot more modern-sounding than their debut, although this still puts them somewhere in the mid-1960s with that twanging guitar sound and experimental vintage electronic keyboards, although Map of an Englishman and the Tears for Fears-ey Springtime have a bit more of an 80s tinge to them as well. The more pastorally folky edge is also retained, with tracks such as East & West (I may be looking too hard for influences here, but this seems to at least partially relate to a Sigmund Freud dream about witnessing his own dissection; dreams being a very strong recurring theme throughout Nightingale) and Dream of the Rood offering a more relaxed view of their world, albeit keeping the ubiquitous quirky electronics in the background, running through the whole record and providing surreal bridges between each song.
It’s slightly spooky, very odd and always fun and interesting. A great step forward from an already strong start, this is definitely something that’ll be wedged in the playlists for a fair old while.
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