WILL VARLEY – ADVERT SOUNDTRACKS ALBUM REVIEW

On the face of it, there is little in the way of similarity between the urban-protest-folk of Will Varley and the sumptuous world music vibes of Cocos Lovers. Little, that is, apart from the fact they mix in similar Deal circles and appear on the same label, Smugglers Records.

Deep down, though, there is an intrinsic unity of theme and content. Both Varley and Cocos Lovers consider themes of disillusion and despair with the modern world. Both dream of some utopian refuge from life’s perils.

But while Cocos Lovers explore such issues against a backdrop of Malian beats and New World harmonies, Varley’s solo acoustic guitar sound is much more stripped back. It recalls the music of protest singer songwriters from early Bob Dylan through to Plan B.

There are hints too of Laura Marling, of Billy Bragg, of Tom McRae and Ben Otwell of Gomez. More locally, you’ll find a similar sound to that of Tom Williams and the Boat. Varley’s voice is a haggard, world weary vocal, perfectly suited to his pessimistic songs.

On his album, “Advert Soundtracks” each pillar and circumstance of modern society comes under the firing line: politics (but of course), economic meltdown, materialism, celebrity culture, global warming and the breakdown of society in general. Cheery stuff, then.

“Advert Soundtracks” is a gloomy record. Possibly the gloomiest of records. From songs of the intensely personal (“King for a King” and “I Still Think of You Sometimes”) to all encompassing analyses of world issues (“The Sound of the Markets Crashing” and “These are the Days”), there is little in the way of hope to be found.

There are swipes dealt out equally between Tony Blair and the Tories (“I wasn’t alive, but I’ve heard the stories” from “These are the Days”) and Jeremy Kyle and Simon Cowell. These are, of course, standard figures of fun and scorn for any right-on singer, comedian or any kind of performer.

Yet, while the temptation remains to brand Varley’s work another complaining-about-celebrity song, or yet another whinge-about-politics-tune, there is something in the imaginative lyrics he applies to this album which sets him apart from the rest.

Though the record clocks in at just 35 minutes with ten songs, it is full to overflowing with comments, reflections and observations, too many to even summarise in the confines of a single review.

“A Monkey on a Rock”, for example takes the notion of the “X-Factor” sob story to its extreme with a contestant claiming he was “brought up by wolves/and they started to listen”.

Commodification and materialism fill the record. Sex is reduced to a means to the ends of Durex’s profits while “the icons of time are Swatch and Rolex”. The result is a “target market” suffering from collective Attention Deficit Disorder.

Elsewhere a simple line like “big bang doesn’t care if I pray” is laden with the kind of meaning other artists would take whole albums to explore.

“Advert Sountracks” is a delicate, emotional record. While Varley is in danger of proselytising at times, there are enough diverse ideas presented with wit and innovation to counter such accusations.

As I type, today’s front pages bear headlines about global markets plunging into chaos. With an opening song called “The Sound of the Markets Crashing”, Will Varley’s album is set to be relevant for a long time to come.