James Yorkston The Year Of The Leopard by: Tom Bradbury Fri:02-Feb-07 Label: Domino Year: 2007 WB rating 79 out of 100

“The beauty in the melody, the rhythm of your words,” sings James Yorkston on the title track of his latest record, The Year of the Leopard. I doubt the song was intended as a self-portrait of his musical style, but no reviewer could have better captured the emotions that Yorkston elicits in his audience. This is an extremely comforting album, rooted in folk music’s past. A clear disciple of Nick Drake, Yorkston has the same soothing voice, and guitar work straight from the Beatles White Album. The Year of the Leopard is his third studio album, and it does not stray far from the well-trodden path Yorkston has been on for the past decade. It is distinctly British, echoing all the fellow Scots who have gone before him, including the most famous one of all, Donovan. 

Those looking for soaring melodies and energetic fretwork will be disappointed by James Yorkston; as his music is typically subdued and imbued with vulnerability. Yet there is much comfort to be found in Yorkston’s voice and the traditional nature of his accompanying instrumentation and arrangements. In the midst of a complex, modern world, Yorkston’s music reminds of the continuity of much of human existence, and particularly of the British people. As he softly breathes his melodies over hypnotically rhythmic guitar work, you can envisage bards playing music much the same on bar stools in 19th century Scottish taverns with the fireplace crackling in the background, all with the same unassuming attitude. As Yorkston concedes on ‘Woozy With Cider’: “I think I can be honest in presuming the world is not exactly going to be leaping out of its bed to make me rich”. Yorkston knows he is not going to make it big, but he seems content to sing his music for anyone who will listen, much as folkies have been doing for centuries – before mass production and modern media made fame a possibility.

The Year of the Leopard is a humble album, and it is Yorkston’s endearing demeanour that lends the songs their unpretentious, quiet but insistent magnetism. He makes frequent use of the melodica, a modest instrument if ever there was one, and the arrangements in his songs are never showy. Yet, from the first track, ‘Summer Song’, Yorkston’s voice flows like a gentle spring breeze into your soul, piercing any shell of cynicism that may surround you after years of listening to over-hyped indie bands. ‘Summer Song’ is a catchy track – not the kind that you sing at the top of your voice with the stereo blaring, but more the type that you hum softly walking to the train station.
 
Halfway through the album there is a welcome change of pace, with a semi-Massive Attack style trip hop number, ‘Woozy With Cider’. Surprisingly this is not as illogical as one might presume, it is more an intriguing interlude – a bit like a dream sequence, with Yorkston’s spoken word poetry recited over music very much reminiscent of the intro to The Who’s ‘Baba O’Reilly’. ‘Woozy With Cider’ demonstrates the subtle power in Yorkston’s lyrical ability, which can be so easily missed in his other tracks, where the vocals are often muffled and subordinate to his overall sound. Here, his delivery is as skilful as the content is well-crafted. He muses: “Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll own the whole street … more likely, sleeping under a tree in the park opposite”.

Mobility, both socially and geographically, is a theme that dominates The Year of the Leopard. The slide guitar led, alt-country of ‘Us Late Travellers’ conjures the sensation of travelling far from home, and the feeling of excitement knowing that anything can happen along the way. The ability to create in the listener such an exact feeling is the mark of a talented songwriter, and it is one that Yorkston possesses. “Stars will light our path, I hope, for us late travellers,” Yorkston croons, in a song that is a journey musically as well as lyrically, moving between British folk and Americana. It sounds equally at home in Jacksonville, North Carolina as it would in Yorkshire.

The Year of the Leopard affected me in a way that I had not anticipated. When you come in cold to an album, having known very little of the artist, you never have any major expectations one way or another – of the music being good or bad. Sometimes that is the best way to listen to music; it gives people like James Yorkston a chance to get through to you, before you have the opportunity to write them off as nothing more than bandwagon folkies. He most assuredly is not, and The Year of the Leopard will move you, if you give it the chance.