Anthony Reynolds makes me think of food. Perhaps it's the sensuous aspects of his voice, or the way he sometimes finds a note that makes me shiver like the luxurious tickle of champagne, sipped after a sweet, ripe strawberry? Maybe it's the satisfying depth of the instrumentation or the song title 'Bread and Wine'?
'British Ballads' takes me to a comforting place. If it had a scent it would be of home, warm bread, fresh limes, maybe the bitter tang of a newly opened bottle of red wine. The songs are lushly orchestrated, backing vocals complimenting the main attraction, Anthony's voice, which is as delectable as ever, bringing to life the rich poetry of the lyrics. Each song seems a delicately painted picture, sometimes of a conversation, or a glimpse through a lit window as you pass, a dream or a quiet moment of contemplation before action.
It is an album of experience, not innocence. The songs don't take you on crazy, exciting night time walks to late night cafes and dingy bars like Jack's 'The Jazz Age' did. It'll take you home and feed you and ask how your day was, maybe rub your shoulders as you pull off your shoes. It knows that life is hard and disappointing, but finds wonder in it anyway.
It doesn't lacks dynamics or variety, it leaves you feeling that you have stepped into the artist's world and shared the experience. The feeling you get after watching a really good film as you step, wondering and blinking, from the cinema. Sometimes it's melancholy, but no less beautiful for that.
New and yet reminiscent of the favourite meal your mother cooked, quite delicious.