BHone Review of "Little flashes..."
Matt Shaw is a machine. He makes albums over breakfast. The last time he played a gig with us, as Tex la Homa at The Bournemouth Railway Club a few months ago, he gave me a ‘handful’ of his latest recordings. Little Flashes Of Sunlight On A Cold Dark Sea was, at time of handover, his latest long-player. There may have been others since.
Machine-like he may be in regards to his rate of productivity, but on this offering he’s completely in touch with his emotions. More than any other Tex la Homa album I’ve heard Little Flashes… is musically stripped bare, intentionally exposing the often dark and deeply personal lyrics. Any adornment to the acoustic guitar and piano is minimal and perfectly used, simply embroidering the songs borders. Lyrically this is almost exclusively involving the relationship between man and woman, and as such it’s not always easy listening. 'Sandbach' being an exception, as Matt reminisces about his schooldays and childhood.
The album is full of uncertainty and positivity in equal measure. On 'The Unanswered Question' he sings ‘There is a fear in my heart I’m being used / Somewhere between a truth and lie I wait still / You ignore and then adore my being here / A secret lover in the dark with nowhere to go’, which typifies the uncertainty in much of Matt’s outpouring. That opener falls bleakly into ‘Dream Sliding’, which, though totally down-tempo is quite beautiful, with lyrics about his love sung as if in a sombre, dream-like state.
The mood lifts with ‘The Greatest Key’, which fairly bounces along compared to what’s gone before. Matt’s tone has lifted too, ‘When I look into your eyes / The world is opening the door / I never had a key to’. This sounds like wide-open spaces, two lovers running, smiling, the sun is shining. Then the clouds return for ‘The Ginnel’. That fore-mentioned adornment is used perfectly here, creating an eerie, uncomfortable sound which only enhances the darkness.
As soon as Matt sings the first word in ‘Falling’ I’m instantly reminded of Mercury Rev’s Deserter’s Songs, ‘Today, it was as if someone stole the sunlight from your smile / As if someone stole the sparkle from your eyes / I hope you’re alright tonight.’ Not for the only time here Matt’s resemblance to Jonathan Donahue is clearly evident, though unlike much of that album there is little in the way of musical dramatics here. In fact, if Mercury Rev were a one-man band, this is how I would expect them to sound.
The beauty and uncertainty continue and at times it’s not easy listening, as if I’ve been asked to read someone’s personal diary: ‘Only once in a blue moon can I be the man you need / The rest of the time I drown my sorrows with beer and wine / Don’t ask me why, it’s not of my design’ (Dawns Of Hope, Sunsets of Sorrow). But, most of this is exposed over a simple acoustic guitar, and once you’ve become accustomed to what you’re being given, its open honesty is beautifully uplifting.
The album ends with picked guitar and sparse piano as on ‘Ania’ Matt sings of hope. Once more this sounds like it’s been lifted from his diary, it’s wonderfully simple and comes to an end with absolutely no fuss, as if it’s the last page. The month spent devouring this album has felt like I’ve been eavesdropping into Matt’s personal book of poetry. Becoming more and more comfortable with its content, its simply beauty has (like most of the best sad/reflective albums) become quite inspirational.
Tony Foster
8.5/10
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