An impressive modern folk debut where creativity shines through.
London-based Dan Pye is a creative individual. Alongside Room 7, on the 7th, his debut album, he has produced films, zines, handmade copper etchings, a diptych and self-designed T-shirts. The album launched with a sold-out show at The Phoenix Arts Club in Soho. It is an album of modern folk songs; he calls it indie-folk, which grows very nicely on you with time. One might even call it folk-pop, with a number of tracks being rather catchy. The best example is the breezy, swinging love song Josephine, which is the nearest to country on show here. Several tracks have melodies which could easily be on a Wilco album, and Pye’s voice sometimes sounds like Jeff Tweedy’s. In case of any doubt, this is a good thing.
At the heart of most of the music, there is picking on guitar or banjo. Pye’s creative side shows in the background to this, where quiet sounds are added, perhaps from electronica, sometimes almost imperceptibly. They are not exactly jarring but are not melodic; they almost act in opposition to the melody, but work very well to make the whole sound more interesting. The album was produced by Sean Rogan, who also contributes bass, banjo, piano, electric guitar, organ and backing vocals.
The title of the album comes from Pye’s late father asking Pye to “Meet me in Room 7, on the 7th” after his death. Pye describes it as “exploring grief, family and the quiet rituals we create to keep those we’ve lost close”. He picks out Funny Way Of Dying, Kid as the centrepiece of the album, saying that it “explores the many small deaths we experience throughout life, from childhood embarrassments and first failures to the profound grief of losing those we love”. Like some other tracks, it starts slowly with acoustic guitar, but then builds to a strong chorus and includes trombone from Joel Knee. Elsewhere, Henry Webster plays violin, and Andrew Finney contributes drums and backing vocals.
A couple of tracks show the flavour of the album well. So Lost has, like the closer Every Bird, sombre piano which chimes well with the words of loneliness: “I’ve been alone for the longest time/ Walking it off /I might just break if I fake that smile”. My Only Ghost, one of those sounding like Wilco with some banjo, is a cry for help: “Hold out your hand, I’m sinking /Can you throw me a line”.
This is a strong debut, where creativity shines through, and you can only hope that Pye has a long and successful career ahead.
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