hissyfit
Tuesday 16 April 2024
East of Ely: 9: The Fatea Review
EAST OF ELY, is Miracle Mile's first album since 2012. Songwriter Trevor Jones has used the seclusion offered by the Suffolk coast to arrive at some insights about the human condition. There is a strong theme of love and deep connection, both personal and universal running through the album. The silence and space of the Suffolk and Norfolk coasts informs both Jones’ lyrics and Marcus Cliffe’s music, occasionally in the atmospheric snatches between tracks, the keyboard sounds and the two instrumental postcards, the space itself gets onto the tape. Jones himself says in a very poetic way, ‘In the silence we found sound’, you could almost put that in brackets after the title.
"Appletree" is a soft, gloriously languid love song, reflective vocals and atmospheric pedal steel. This isn't music to dance to, but Trevor's vocals and Marcus' music leave you with a kind of Blue Nile warm glow. “Shivering Boy” carries on the warm love songs with some great lyrical imagery ‘You taught me how to dance like no-one else was there I came as Eric Morecambe but left as Fred Astaire’. “Sparrows” adds another voice to the warm lush sound. “Night Wedding” is a bruised, jaded song about dreams and making do. In feel its a Country song with ethereal electronic backing. With pastoral atmospherics and Trevor’s acoustic guitar “Postcard From Happisburgh” is a jazzy Floydian interlude. “Ocean Of Song” keeps the nimble guitar going, lightening the mood, contrasting the melancholic but poetic lyrics. ‘Well, I’m a shallow man Complete in my incompleteness I am what I am what I am.’ “Shorebound” mixes spoken poetry and sung lyrics. There is a real sense of place and of a moment, created by the imagery and the arrangement. Light and atmospheric “Shorebound” is a stand out track with its lyrics titling the album. “Butterfly Broach” is a very english pastoral love song with a dark edge like the best of Boo Hewerdine. “Silent Sigh” is another electronic Country song, weary delivery with some superb lyrics about the slow drift apart. ‘Now love is whiskey, love is wine I know I’m fading but I’m fine’. “Come Morning” with its light touch, electronic drums and reflective vocal has a touch of The Blue Nile. The wave like keyboards and pastoral imagery are followed by “Postcard From Walberswick” a final sea shore interlude that closes this thoughtful and delicate album.
Marc Higgins
Sunday 28 January 2024
East of Ely: 8: The Paul Woodgate Review
Perhaps you need Miracle Mile more than you thought.
And what of our heroes? Marcus Cliffe, multi-instrumentalist, studio owner, all round melodic marvel has, amongst other things, toured on and off with Manfred Man, released solo LPs and worked on a musical with Mark Knopfler. Trevor Jones, always with Marcus’ assistance - it would come as no surprise if they finished each other’s sentences (I sort of want them to) - has released a series of solo LPs culminating in 2019s 'Carver’s Law', which have allowed him to step outside the ‘band’ ethos and explore a gentler, more introspective journey.
That tilt towards introspection continues here. It will be no surprise to long-term fans of Jones and Cliffe, and can be measured in rough correlation with the decreasing number of ‘official’ band members over the years. From the fizzing pop of 'Bicycle Thieves' with a full compliment, to the later LPs where the duo made best use of friends and hired hands to conjure music so irresistibly catchy and thought provoking it’s probably illegal. The road now arrives on the windswept shores of East Anglia; East of Ely.
No-one’s Walking John Wayne here, but there’s no less drama. 'Night Wedding' opens like one of Carver's short stories. There’s no disguising the storytelling craft in ‘Well she walked down the aisle with a Scotch in her hand / She was only really there for the wedding band’. The beautiful strings in the middle-eight could have soundtracked Brief Encounter. I don’t have a favourite, but I keep coming back to see how the girl got on.
'Shorebound', a title track of sorts, continues Jones’ penchant for the spoken word in song, in this instance joining with both Marcus and Lucinda Drayton (whose voice in her spoken word verse sounds uncannily like Sarah Cracknell) to extol the virtues of their coastal retreats, retreats where most of the album was conceived and which birthed its title. The song is an anchor around which all the others float. Try getting the ear-worm of a chorus out of your head - you’ve been warned.
If I were to choose a song for the first 7” - ah, those were the days! - it would be 'Chapel Flower Morning'. It’s the most immediate track on the album and reminiscent of 'Limbo' and 'Glow'-era Miracle Mile, with a steadily rising wall of melody that breaks on your shore like a benediction. You’ll have to buy the CD if you want it though; it’s not on the vinyl. Buy both, why don’t you?
Over eight studio albums and a compilation, Miracle Mile have built a beautifully crafted catalogue of articulate, intelligent music. Beautifully rendered, resolutely anti-zeitgeist, often melancholy, always hopeful. They might not be in everyone’s sights, but when you travel under the radar, you can hit the target without being found out. If there’s a sadness in not having been more widely recognised, perhaps we should just be grateful Miracle Mile are here at all. 'East of Ely' is bullseye number nine. Hit the coast roads and rejoice; our happy/sad place is found again.
Saturday 27 January 2024
'East of Ely': 7: A Good Egg
One of the pleasures of writing, recording and releasing music, is in meeting the folk with whom your music resonates. It's quite a thing to have a stranger let you in. In my songs I try to demystify the mundanities and clarify the confusions by using facts of life. It is encouraging then to hear when 'specific' translates as 'universal'. It helps if you steep your writing in truth: it keeps things authentic and convincing. If folk whiff falsity or contrivance you'll soon lose them. So, when a stranger calls to tell you that they recognise their own world in yours, the sense of 'connection' can be overwhelmingly gratifying: particularly when your moment of clarity has been born from confusion.
A few years ago Di and I were at a Case Harding gig in Soho. The Borderline has long gone, but was once a regular haunt: an atmospheric basement venue that offered cheap beer, decent Mexican food, a great rig and seemed to lean towards the artists that I admired. It's where Mark Eitzel's brilliant live album 'Songs of Love' was recorded. I saw Ron Sexsmith there on his first UK tour: a young Sheryl Crowe too, when she was raw and hungry. I digress. This particular night I was aware of a young chap side-eying Di and I as we watched the zesty Pete Gow and Jim Maving strut their stuff as Case Harding. The next morning I received a FB message asking me if I was at the gig and was I the singer with Miracle Mile? Those recognitions don't happen very often so I was intrigued. The message came from Paul 'Egg' Woodgate. It seemed that Paul had recognised me from the cover of 'Slow Fade' and was an admirer of Miracle Mile. My ego was stroked and we chatted. We were clearly kindreds and eventually met up for a messy pub crawl in Islington, followed by a gig at The Union Chapel; The Unthanks I think. Egg has since become a good mate. He is a sweet man: self-deprecating, witty, fiercely intelligent and wonderfully articulate. It also turned out that, amongst his many strings, Paul was a music writer. A great one at that. He has reviewed my solo albums a time or two for AmericanaUk. The reviews were always positive but, more importantly, perceptive: on the nose in terms of understanding and deciphering the thing that I do with Marcus Cliffe. He is therefore one of the first people that I send new recordings to: a bellwether: a touchstone. I trust his judgement and know that I'll get honest feedback. This rambling preamble is by way of introducing a piece that Paul has written for the album; essentially the first review for 'East of Ely'.
It'll be my next post.
Thanks to Paul for his kindly words: both elevating and humbling: he really is a good egg!
Friday 1 December 2023
East of Ely: 6: Light Enough
Wednesday 22 November 2023
East of Ely: 5: Songs and Serendipity
I thought I'd tell you a little about the genesis of the songs on the album.
That title? 'East of Ely' refers to the sense of a border. As I drive east towards Walberswick (M25/A12) I'm always aware of a fault-line, one that separates where I'm coming from, and where I'm going to. This boundary has become more pronounced since Marcus invested in his bolthole in North Norfolk. Our boltholes share the same border.
The sense of the album was essentially formulated in a fisherman's shack on the Suffolk coast. There is no concept. The songs aren't about driftwood and wild swimming. They do involve specific influence. But the ideas were gathered and considered here: east of Ely, in solitude: whilst in retreat. That offered me a clarity of thought. It's why I come here every year: to put my house in order. My room remains dishevelled. My cup runneth over and always needs refilling. Fortunately there's usually another bottle. If not, there are two pubs within staggering distance. The Bell is for the seafarers. The Anchor is for the farmers. Both parties used to meet Friday nights for a scrap on the adjoining village green. I try to keep both councils and emulate Jack London's 'Sailor on Horseback'.
Marcus later invited me up to his abode in Happisburgh. Familiar coast. Different outlook. Same sightline: at the risk of ridicule let's call it 'bucolic bliss'. I bought a guitar and songs. A mic was set up with The Scientist's directive: 'Let's see what happens'. The dogs Willow and Charlie took their places on the sofa, eyed us nervously and... we were off. The journey had no map, but we had a compass: a moral compass I guess. Our working relationship is defined by trust. And a little love. We both respect each other's skills and listen hard when the other speaks. We've never had a fall out: apparently that's not healthy for the creative process but it sure gets the bottle finished!
Our songs will often originate with my busker's version. Ten thumbs and the truth. I'll offer them to Marcus who will point out shortcomings and add flesh to the ham-fisted bones. Sometimes he'll offer up a musical motif or instrumental piece. I'll later use it as the starting point for something. I love those moments: they are gifts. Marcus's musicality is different from mine. There's good reason that I refer to us as 'The Hunchback and The Scientist'! The latter's finessed sketches are often in keys foreign to my fumbling fingers and beyond my vocal range. I'm forced into foreign territory: a peculiar pitch leads pulse and melody up unfamiliar paths. Lyrically the songs reflect what's orbiting my world. My universe has shrunk somewhat since retirement. Lockdown made us look inwards didn't it? What I thought would be a productive time creatively was a barren wasteland. I was rendered mush-brained: there's only so much inspiration to be found in porridge and duvets. But gradually, post COVID (are we there yet?) the effects became manifest and manifested themselves as songs. I never think I have an album's worth. But once Marcus hits 'Record' on a new project the muse comes stumbling out of the cave: bleary eyed but willing.
Whilst he's in the frame, I want to mention Mr Cliffe. It's nearly always my words. Usually too many words. As the singer it's my voice that you'll hear: my name might be mentioned first. Singers and lyric writers are orally inclined by nature. Gobs on a stick. Guilty. As ever I'm concerned with truth. It's a hoary subject: previously pummelled to buggery by better men and women than I. But it remains central to my mithering. Should it be feared, endured or celebrated? I want to lead a good life. I need to articulate that intent: and am then compelled to communicate my ideas to others. I'm desperate for that connection to be kindly and authentic. That starts at home: with Di and family. But it inevitably extends to Marcus. Miracle Mile are a duo. My verbiage therefore needs to stand for both of us. Not the personal details per se, more a sense of things as they are, were, or should be. The vagaries of my lyrical form becomes our form. I take that responsibility seriously. I don't speak for Marcus but I'm confident that he stands behind my words. As we effectively share the same bed, trust is vital. As you can see below, he's the style, I'm the culture!
Shivering Boy: Insecurity and vulnerability. The boy as father of the man etc.
Sparrows: Betty's journey with dementia. My memory needs to be hers. I have a terrible memory.
Night Wedding: Good things come to those who wait. But at what price?
Postcard from Happisburgh: Marcus personifies 'Happisburgh' in a musical vignette. The album's happiest moment. I can smell 'Charlie's Field'.
Ocean of Song: Resentments are toxic but abiding. Songs are my way of archiving hurt.
Shorebound: Me, Marcus and Lucinda try to bottle the benefits of the bolthole.
Butterfly Brooch: A lovesong for a butterfly.
Silent Sigh: A confused moment in a Tesco aisle. The same aisle where I detached my retina.
Chapel Flower Morning: A song about transience, celebration, growth and inevitable withering.
Come Morning: A hymn to her. A gathering of gifts and a thanksgiving of sorts.
Postcard from Walberswick: A note to someone who's forgotten how to read.
Tuesday 21 November 2023
East of Ely: 4: Cover Story
Saturday 18 November 2023
East of Ely: 3: Shorebound
Friday 17 November 2023
East of Ely: 2: Boltholes
Rilke wrote “I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other.” Such was our silent pact. We regathered ourselves; learned to let the outside in. And then we took the coast roads. East of Ely. Shore bound. We shared secrets. Shaped dust. And in the silence we found sound.
Tuesday 14 November 2023
East of Ely: 1: Why? Why Not?
'Maybe the West's approach is right. After all, if you've got a massive fight in, say, a pub car park, the best way of solving it is clearly by standing back and randomly lobbing in fireworks. You can't get rid of an ideology by destroying its leaders. You'd think if there's anything Christian countries should know it’s that. Europe has rejected the death penalty on moral high grounds, and yet we relax this view when it comes to a group who want to be martyred. You can’t bomb ideas. If your kid shits on the carpet you can’t stop them by bombing the person who invented shit - though it would tidy up ITV's Saturday night schedule.'
Friday 3 November 2023
Love Song: Our Man in the Field: 'Gold on the Horizon'
Wednesday 18 October 2023
Miracle Mile: A User's Guide: by Johnny Black
“Trevor Jones finds the poetry in real life; Marcus Cliffe anchors it in the sweetest pop. Gorgeous as ever. You may cry.” The Sunday Times
Despite being based in a home studio in a rural backwater on the outskirts of West London, Miracle Mile chose to name themselves after a fictional gold rush main street half a world away where, according to adventure yarn spinner Jack London, ragged 49ers would blow their hard-won nuggets on booze and broads. They apply a similarly unorthodox approach to their career in general. The band’s core duo of singer/guitarist Trevor Jones and multi-instrumentalist/arranger/producer Marcus Cliffe have been relentless in their pursuit of the perfect song. Not the fastest, the gnarliest or the loudest, not even the most instantly commercial, but the song whose melody, lyrics, arrangement, performance and spirit might stand the test of time, giving pleasure to listeners not just for years but centuries.
They’d be the first to admit they haven’t yet found that perfect song and maybe never will, but I’d argue that their albums — the documentary evidence of that search — deserve a place alongside the best work of time-tested tunesmiths as elevated as Randy Newman, Elvis Costello or Tom Waits.
“Gorgeous melodies, hooks galore, intelligent lyrics that demand and repay careful listening, beautifully produced instrumentation, and an overall effect that combines poignancy and joy in equal measure. Music and words come together in a state as close to perfection as makes no difference, and leaves you with a delicious ache that makes you hug yourself with the sheer overwhelming joy of hearing such wonderful music. The beauty on offer here is enough to make you weep. It did me."
Americana UK
"Gentle enchantment. The loveliest melodies you've ever heard." UNCUT
“A little oasis illuminated by musical creativity, glimpsed like a lovely mirage. Intelligent tunefulness that doesn’t kowtow to passing trends has always been as rare as fish fingernails, but it’s here.” Mojo
“How to write ‘Perfect Pop’ and still remain unknown. They are magic, charming, almost naïve in their perception of beauty.” La Repubblica (Italy)
Immediately the music took a more intimate turn, with Jones exploring the little things that illuminate the big things. Almost every song offers up at least one unforgettable line, like "I'd rather be ashes than dust" in "Everybody Loved You" or the concept of filling the void left by his loss of faith "with despair and metalware" in "Starwatching".
Slow Fade was further enhanced by the delicately filigreed swirls and swoops of England’s finest steel guitar maestro, B.J. Cole, whose style sat so well with Jones and Cliffe that he has become virtually a full-time member of the band.
"Meticulously orchestrated, careful and complex, this is canny songwriting leavened by bona fide humanity." Q
“Miracle Mile’s obscurity remains unfathomable. Perfect adult pop.” The Sunday Times
“Moves you to tears and refreshes the soul. Scintillating.” Maverick
“A tender sadness. Songs that have universal resonance.” NetRhythms
“A gorgeous album that few will hear - unless there’s justice in the world.” The Wall Street Journal
“Trevor Jones finds the poetry in real life; Marcus Cliffe anchors it in the sweetest pop. Gorgeous as ever. You may cry.” The Sunday Times
Tuesday 17 October 2023
Miracle Mile. New album 'East of Ely'
'East of Ely' is Miracle Mile's first new album since 2012's 'In Cassidy's Care'. It was largely written on the Suffolk coast and later recorded between London and Norfolk. Both Marcus and I found bucolic bliss in coastal retreat. The detachment informed the writing process and limited the palette to anything but primary colours. You won't be dancing but we hope that the songs offer some kind of balmy relief to your day.
'East of Ely' will be released by the Last Night From Glasgow Cartel in 2024. It will soon be available to pre-order on vinyl and CD.
Friday 27 May 2022
Lovesong: Boo Hewerdine: 'Understudy'
Boo Hewerdine looks more like God everyday.
Friday 11 February 2022
Lovesong: Sinner's Shrine: Dean Owens
Never meet your heroes they say: you're destined for disappointment or doomed to simply walk in their shoes. Although Dean Owens’ boots are firmly rooted in Caledonia, it’s clear that his musical heart beats in, around and along the arterial song lines that connect the music of Arizona and its bordering states: “a wire around the heart of everything that’s sacred”. This is no cultural desert: Tex Mex and Mariachi boldly blend with Country and Folk to create a very particular brand of Americana. Owens had long been influenced by the weeping steel and aching feel that informs much of the area's music. He was particularly keen on Howe Gelb’s Giant Sand and, tellingly, its bastard offspring Calexico, whose masterful ‘Feast of Wire’ clearly whetted his appetite. He was thus drawn to the source: Tucson’s WaveLab studio, home of Calexico’s founding members Joey Burns and John Convertino. That wondrous duo's muscular rattle and hum underpins much of this adroitly understated album. He's a born storyteller is Dean, yet he ditches the narratives and goes straight to the heart of the matter: these are more cyphers than stories. Ghosts haunt the open roads, borderlands and dusty destinations. They are only ever glimpsed, but are omnipresent: displaced revenants whose whispers and moans tell of loss and longing: missed opportunities and broken promises. Dean cannily drops that syrupy brogue a tone or two and floats his beguiling melancholy over his compadres’ perfect rhythms. It occasionally feels perilously close to pastiche until you remember that, that is the point: Owens is there to tip a hat in homage to his hombres. The cumulative effect is one of gracious gratitude.
'Sinner's Shrine' is not informed by wickedness or worship: Owen's benevolence seeks solace, perhaps even redemption, in the recognition and celebration of influence. That confluence is a river worth crying over. Dean’s dream may be wilfully woozy but it is perfectly realised: spectral yet specific. Before he left for New Mexico, he had told me of his plan: that he had no plan, just hope for a musical journey towards kinship; a yearning to find and befriend the source of his ennui and inspiration. It's an oblique map for a travelogue; but what a trip. Dean Owens left without a destination and, bugger me, he found a home.