PG Six - 'Slightly Sorry' (Drag City) Released 12/02/07

The burgeoning US psych-folk movement may have started making waves in the mainstream only recently, with magnetic minstrels ala Devendra Banhart and Joanna Newsom helping to push the increasingly marketable scene towards mass renown. Yet the cosmically endowed folk revival has been bubbling beneath the surface for quite a while, with artists such as New York-based multi-instrumentalist Pat Gubler - aka PG Six - toiling in the commercial wilderness for years with a series of releases long on influence and critical acclaim but short on sales.

 

Accessible, diverse and practically oozing with organic, rootsy charms, 'Slightly Sorry' deserves to propel him from the cultish margins he's so far occupied both as a solo artist and member of mid-90's odd-folk trailblazers Tower Recordings.  

Stylistically, the platter's palette of inspirations crosses both genres and the Atlantic, combine as it does the laidback lamentations of early-70's Lauren Canyon singer-songwriterdom with the trad. arr. end of folkie formats sampled with most famed aplomb by such veteran UK pickers as Bert Jansch and Davy Graham. The album kicks off with what sounds like bagpipes, but instead of Celtic drones the opener 'Untitled Micro Mini' excels in glistening guitar licks not unlike a raga-less Currituck Co.

 

'Dance' provides a yearning highlight with such a pronounced 'Harvest'-ian thud you half-expect to Neil Young to step forth for a spot of stinging fretboard workout. Instead, the trembling track heads to a deep-soul territory with a late-night groove that would've been welcomed with open arms at Stax or Hi Studios. 'Bless These Blues' is another superb slice of bittersweet beauty halfway between 'After The Gold Rush' and Al Green, whilst the swirling Hammonds and soulful backing vocals of the Band-esque 'Sweet Music' provide exactly what the title promises. Elsewhere, the haunting, stripped-down glow of 'Strange Messages' is a close relative of Cat Power's 'The Greatest', 'I've Been Travelling' dips into Byrdsian jingle-jangle and the mournful 'Lily of The West' showcases Gubler's expertise of bygone balladeering and virtuoso finger-picking, whilst the spooky 'End of Winter', featuring fellow Tower Recordings alumni Helen Rush on vocals, heads deep into the woods.

 

If that sounds like a compulsively genre-hopping mess in dire need of a musical identity of its own, fear not. What might seem like a wildly disparate jumble of styles is held together with supreme skill by Gubler's gentle murmur of a voice and the winningly warm ambience that permeates the proceedings. Check it out - you won't be sorry, not even slightly.