Like a Westend musical meets folk, a quirky combination from this Canadian songwriter
There's a lot of good stuff come out of Canada in recent years; Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, Howie Beck, John Southworth and this fellow Hawksley Workman. This is his fifth album to date and it goes by the title of 'Treeful of Starling'; it was borne out of three years of frustrated recording, in which Mr. Workman laid down three album's worth of material, but couldn't nail it. He then withdrew from society and got it together and the result is this sweet-tinged musical splattering. Indeed, it is like David Bowie performing at a cabaret club, like the Dresden Dolls if they saw life as more flowery and fun and good-natured, like folk brought to Broadway. 'You And The Candles' is very Bright Eyes, there's that annoying strain that permeates your brain and that circus-like take on the classic sound of folk music, but luckily it's not all as sickeningly cheerfully woeful as the aforementioned's music.
'You Are Too Beautiful' is one of the better tracks found here, lyrics that twist from the poetically romantic to the dejectedly sulky in a spin of wit. 'Rain' is a very nice little ode to the wet stuff that falls from the sky, words that describe the grace of the drops' dances and what emotions the weather condition causes to erupt when dripping on your head. 'When These Mountains Were The Seashore' is a quick punchy saloon-swing song looking back over the ages and comparing then to now, an intelligent response to the stupid lyrics that form Sandi Thom's painful Punk Rocker song. As Workman's little message says on the back cover: 'Hymns for a dying planet and a culture in decay.'
There are elements of all sorts in Workman's voice, from a Joe Cocker croak to an E (Eels)-like sorrowful whirl to a crackly high and childlike cry, sometimes leaning towards the side of Jeff Buckley. 'Goodbye To Radio' starts to sail the album off very nicely, a cool little whistle mimed by the piano halfway through, which takes you away and brings you back as it starts to transmute into the horn that follows.
It ends a lot better than it begins and, though short, it is sweet, even if there's a sour moment every now and then. 'Ice Age' is well articulated, if a little sticky round the edges, but when the drums and jazz come in you're thankful you've stuck the album out until now. It finishes heartily and rewardingly at least. However, in all, it's not terribly sensational, worthy of putting in the collection, but it'll quite possibly become a neglected and forgotten-about record. Good, for as long as it lasts.