The Scottish songwriter maintains his stylistic and adventurous style but also makes strides in melody and songwriting, making Peace in the Underworld not only a record filled with great pop moments but a rewarding peek into Yusuf Azak’s unique vision.
The title track introduction serves as a dose of things to follow: Azak starts his deft passages of mystic gypsy guitars, ramblings of paranoia in surreal places, singing that all is as the title track claims in a delivery that would be ghost-like if it wasn’t so suspicious in the questions and observations it was making, but it’s how Azak illustrates this with his excellent guitar playing, not only learnt but inventive, and at times playful to great effect; we find him in the middle eight walking scales for kicks, flaunting simple lines for fun.
Hollow’ continues the dreamy fashion, double tracking that breathy voice to make the song breathe over the sweeping arpeggios (he repeats this trick with good tact at other points on the album, noticeably on ‘Lean On A Memory’ and the gospel like closer of ‘Revolt’).
I’ve seen the comparison made, and although the guitar playing is there and can be heard, I think he sweeps a good trick from Elliott Smith here as they both share that sweet hiss of sorts; indeed, it sounds at times all options for instrumentation and structure were exhausted and explored on this album, this tends to be the beast and nature of a songwriter with sole control, and therefore we never really hear a musician not afraid of following his nose.
It’s all this and more, which makes ‘Silver Rose’ the strongest cut on the album, here everything likeable about Azak’s songwriting comes to bare fruit, with some eastern cloud of a guitar line, a broad accent in a bridge, we get to a plucky and killer chorus with tones of early Bowie, handclaps and all, it’s infectious and instantly clear to see why it was chosen as a single.
Painting surreal and heady pictures on the Roy Harper-esque ‘Lean On A Memory’, Azak continues his healthy pairing of electric and nylon guitar on the bright but defiant ‘State Courage’, it’s important to note here that lyrically, this is not the only song on the album that strongly alludes to a modern discontent – the lyrics on ‘Fuel’ feel like anecdotes of an increasingly hollow existence, matching well to its sharp and edgy guitars.
‘Revolt’ finishes with an outright plea from a man well and truly unsure at the state of things, it’s a sombre ending to a record that makes the listener think twice on the name, but above all it’s a reflective closer to a relatively brave and artistic success.
Words: Matthew Thomas
