James Frost, Nameless. E.P. Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

Some things remain Nameless, that is good as it injects an air of mystery and anonymous secrecy ….It is possibly down to many factors that Norwich is not known for many things in the general scheme of thought. Beyond perhaps one of Steve Coogan’s many comedic creations, the erstwhile Delia Smith, her beloved Norwich City Football Club and its stunning scenery, for many, unhappily and shamefully, the pre-eminent Norfolk city doesn’t really get that much coverage. Stuck as it is seemingly miles from anywhere, it truly is a capital of its own cut off country, only the half soaked land stopping it from being an island of incredible curiosity.

What is hidden underneath though is a thriving Folk scene, a set of artists who typify the English pastoral thought and who transverse the imagined island that sits proudly over all it surveys for miles and perhaps none more so than James Frost and the set of songs that make up his idyllic Nameless E.P.

The sound of the rural countryside, of lazy bees collecting pollen in the summer drenched fields and of cricket on the village greens that lead to the thriving old market town that was once considered the second city of England, are but a backdrop to the web of intrigue placed within the E.P. Songs that evoke a strangeness to anyone who hasn’t thought of being hemmed in by the growing industrial forces and rapid urbanisation that is offered as a way of life. Music carries seemingly across Time in the tracks Nameless, the brutally good Nomad, PrideVisitors and Rolling Thunder. However Time does not stand idly still within the songs, there is a presence of strength in adversity, of a relentless, restless heartbeat that understands what is happening around him and offers an insight into how we as a species no longer see the wood for the mechanical trees that have sprouted up and dominated the landscape.

Nomad especially suggests itself as a song of race memory in which humanity seems to have placed trust in standing still and vegetating ahead of exploration and self discovery. Few songs speak in such a way, few musicians offer such a powerful pull in the realms of one song but James Frost frames the points so well that it is beautiful and compelling an argument.

Something’s remain Nameless because they cannot be ascribed a good enough designation, some because they are beyond labelling; James Frost accurately christens this feeling of Folk contentment with great charm and lyrical endeavour.

 

Ian D. Hall