Song, by Toad

If a bright slice of beguiling folk-pop is what you’re after then look no further.  Given the recent associations of being a Sheffield band, this lot come as something of a break from the norm, although within the wider context of English music as a whole it is a little easier to place.  Generally I would say this album fits within the quite wide swathe of delicate, charming and generally playful folk music being cut across the nation’s music scene at the moment.  A good deal of it is from in and around London, but Monkey Swallows the Universe certainly seem to have far more in common with this particular movement than they do with anything more local, although I am open to correction on that.

The record itself is often very gentle and very beautiful, and a good deal of it is highly reminiscent of Everthing But the Girl’s Acoustic album of about fifteen years ago.  In fact Nat Johnson’s voice is very evocative of Tracy Thorn, but I’d take this lot over that bunch any day!  The fiddle, cello and recorder (Recorder?? Yes, recorder.  This is rock ‘n’ roll, bitches.) add the traditional touch, but it is the touchingly personal songs that really make this for me.  Underpinning the jaunty acoustic folk-pop and the wistful melancholia equally, are gently and carefully told personal anecdotes delivered with a touchingly plain honesty.

Surprisingly enough, for such an unassuming band, they had a pretty devoted following at the End of the Road Festival, so we could just have a satisfying little success story on our hands here.  Richly deserved too, I’d say.

Monkey Swallows the Universe – Sheffield Shanty
Monkey Swallows the Universe – Jimmy Down the Well

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