Sitting in the pub on a Sunday night having an in depth discussion about the Cannes film festival, and how the films aren’t quite as cultured or cutting as they used to be.
There will be the odd drunken ramble and uninterrupted grumble about a loved one that fell by the wayside followed by a trip to the bar for another Scotch.
Listening to Jack James latest album Is That the Rain On is like having a rhetorical conversation with your best pal, there are moments when he has you laughing along and others when he has you in the pits of despair eager to give him a cuddle and reassurance that tomorrow everything will be alright.
Warm Glaswegian rasps wrap themselves around ‘Mouse Trap’, comfortable pallets of noise usher out a bunch of lyrics that are as confusing as they are mystifying.
Minimalist approach has always worked best with James, the empathy and delivery that screeches out of every strum of guitar stenches of desperation that can be found in any busker that has ever braced the streets of Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday afternoon.
‘Bedside Detectives’ is a little lighter in texture, more amicable and easier to digest.
‘Glasgow Swagger’ on the other hand is more of an experimental number for James; it holds more aesthetic ground and sets the scene for ‘Harvey Trapping’, which is a beautiful interlude of gentle piano tapping.
If the start of the album resembles a chinwag with your mates in the pub, then these tracks represent climax; jackets are on and it is time to hit the cold rain outside.
‘Three Names’ marks a switch of gears on the album; guitar arrangements balance themselves on the unaccountable James who questions notoriety and fame.
Artistic pedestal placement is questioned nonchalantly; “did I say something right? I think so”.
Glaswegian humbleness found in the drawl of James adds to the genuine curiosity of the track.
‘Staring out of Windows’ deals with the metaphoric political assassination of our central character within the record, James’ wordplay is crucial and central to the setting here.
“There is not a phone call you can make, or a letter you can write”, the manipulating politician is trapped within a web of his own lies that no amount of spin or contacts can even begin to rescue him from.
‘Seconds Away From Rain’ is the waltzy and chaotic closure on the record.
Left to reflect on what happens when dishonesty is met with a cathedral dampness; the closing banjo encapsulates the death of the politician and order.
Perhaps ironic that the best feature of Is That the Rain On is the way James dissimilates verse and rhythm pattern, yet retains coherency and complete trust despite this being his most experimental and playful record to date.
Words: Chris Kelman
