IndieShark Music News, Reviews & Interviews
The Arizona desert is an unlikely region for spawning convincing Celtic punk bands. Swainn corrects such expectations. Under a Willow Tree is a remastered version of the band’s first album with a definite twist. This recording incorporates contributions from new bass player Rob MacIntosh via rewritten and re-recorded bass lines. Swainn couldn’t resist further fine-tuning the album’s electric guitar and re-recording vocals for two cuts. The changes are far from cosmetic. It’s a significant revision of an already excellent collection that isn’t a stopgap instead of a new release. It shows growth and clears the decks for the future.
“Voices” opens the release on a raucous, churning note. Swainn marries the rootsy vibe of Celtic folk with rock muscle in a familiar way. Still, the lyrics put a distinctive stamp on the proceedings. The key line in the song’s chorus, “Abandon all hope who enter here…”, is a gauntlet-throwing way to introduce listeners to Under a Willow Tree’s charms, and the band delivers the goods with untampered bravado. There’s a light communal vibe to the performance that ranks among the second track’s strengths. “Bag o’ Bones” continues pursuing the same romping tempo defining the album opener. However, it boasts a far more boisterous vocal, and the backing vocals possess equal verve. Swainn fills the song with an irrepressibly rowdy swing.
“In the Morning” has the same breakneck pacing defining Under a Willow Tree thus far. However, it has a different instrumental character. Swainn strips back their musical attack during the verses and reserves the arrangement’s full wallop for its chorus. These contrasting dynamics make “In the Morning” one of the album’s memorable high points. Another peak moment hits with “Home”, and the band is pursuing a different direction. Swainn slows the tempo and embraces a melodic amble brimming with woozy charm. The smattering of sound effects opening the cut is a nice and understated touch.
“Let’s Get Loose” is a swaggering jig fueled by fluid and ferocious rock drumming. It’s the album’s shortest recording, clocking in a hair less than three minutes, but there’s nothing throwaway about it. It’ll be a concert favorite. “Up on the Mountain” is Under a Willow Tree’s longest cut, by contrast, and allows Swainn to stretch out as players. It’s indeed a modestly expanded canvas. Nevertheless, it shows Swainn has no issue challenging the listener’s expectations. Few passages make this more obvious than the generous helping of rough-hewn riffing guitar threaded through critical portions of the song.
Under a Willow Tree closes with the smart and sassy “Another Drinking Song”. Fatalism runs through Swainn’s songwriting self-effacement, making the lyrics an interesting listen. The vocals are as lively and immerse themselves in the moment. Swainn isn’t experimenting much during Under a Willow Tree’s eleven songs, and their influences are clear. No reasonable person will deny it. However, this Arizona-born Celt/Punk act’s songwriting is practically bursting with a rip-roaring personality far from a carbon copy of more popular bands. Search this out, and you’ll hear it for yourself.
Mark Druery
