Tom Emlyn’s initial albums built and solidified his reputation as a skilful and observant storyteller within the classic songwriter genre. On his fifth, The Names of the Streetcorners, Wales’ surely most prolific musician snatches up the oddities and curiosities quietly toyed with previously and forms them into an expression of spoken word, lo-fi atmospheres and instrumentals. The work is curated from fragments Tom has made note of over a number of years, and saved stored for later. Well, the time is now. The ideas have been percolating alright, but procrastination never sounded more appealing than on ‘I’ve Been Meaning To Get Round To It‘, a melodic and easy sweet finger picker.
The album is ‘an exploration of the nooks and crannies of the city inside your mind,’ Tom says, the unsettling whispers and chatter in the title piece ‘The Names of the Street Corners’ a cacophony of spirits. ‘Almost Everything’s For Sale (Belgium 2017)‘ opens with mystical keys and guitar, the record sustaining a European feel on ‘Feet on the ground, Head in the Clouds‘, the influence of George Harrison warms, before morphing into a scene from a chic French film. Very lovely, and sharply emotive. The art film vibe continues but in a different vein, the dreamy noodling of the puntastic-titled ‘It’s Raining Cats and Gods’, and ‘Double Exposures’‘ claustrophobia felt even before Emlyn starts to speak in dystopian tones, reflecting the times we’re in.
The spoken word element of the record is a powerful device, ‘The Thing Most Feared in Secret’ first heard on 2023’s Scaredycat: Vol 1 B Sides, an observation of humanity in a shotgun shack with birds singing and tweeting their hysterical little hearts out raised a smile at this end. ‘Phosphoressence‘ formerly a short story accompaniment of Rehearsal For the Rain: Scaredycat Vol.2 is here given the full textural recording treatment, and tells of those magical times you find diamonds in the shit, even when you aren’t looking. A tenner in the street always welcome, even if you can’t buy much for that these days. Different levels of joy, innit. The field recording of the world going on around the narrator puts him in his place but we all deserve to dream, right? Having your can of lager robbed is a bump in the road.
‘One of the Boys’ is not about a lads’ weekend – although now I think on, a Tom Emlyn song about that would be quite the entertainment – but instead a reflection, bare spoken word telling the story of a boy exploring disused steam railway with a history and unfortunate present, later demolished to make room for the churn of progress. Time turns and changes whether we like it or not. The closer ‘Rigmarole’ switches again, leaves us with a sense of crikey, rock n roll is fucking great; the post-punk blowing up into a heavenly, glorious prog wig out.
This album is Tom Emlyn’s most experimental record yet. The hints were always there, weren’t they, and we are totally here for the emotional and creative ride. Come on over to the dark side, folks. It’s blazing with glorious colour.
Photo credit: Keith Bolton
