The first time I heard Richard Hawley, the lush sounds of Coles Corner brought to mind Matt Monro’s Born Free and Danny Williams’ Moon River – both guilty pleasures of mine, and either always a winner in club singer style on a karaoke night. That may say more about me than him, but it was an indication of time and style for the rich arrangements and booming croon of a voice. This follow-up lovingly treads the same fifties/early sixties paths from stylish borderline schmaltz to rockabilly, but it’s all so well done that there’s no hint of pastiche. Not since the heyday of Dave Edmunds and Rockpile has there been so much life breathed into retro rock’n’roll.

He may give the impression of being a hard Northern lad, but Hawley freely admits to being “as soft as a bag of titties” – his words, or rather his Dad’s, not mine. Thus the dramatic chugging opening rhythm of Valentine, that could have been a long lost Roy Orbison classic, melts into heavenly strings and forlorn words of longing. Next up is a soft lullaby, but Serious will have you reaching for your drapes and washboard (and maybe your old copy of Shakin’ Stevens This Ole House too). Careful with those pelvic thrusts. Tonight The Streets Are Ours is all sparkly toe-tapping as if the lead singer of the Shirelles has had a sex change, now likes to be known as Trevor, and really does want to love you forever.

The morning after the night before heartbreak of Lady Solitude pares the orchestration back before Duane Eddy echoing guitar leads on the cowboy in the saddle lollop of Dark Road. The acoustic jingle and background banjo of The Sea Calls sounds salt wind fresh, then we’re back landlocked at Sheffield landmark Lady’s Bridge, which if I had to choose would have to be the weakest track, with lyrics that just fall over into the predictable rather than the comfortingly expected. Another bash at the washboard and/or spoons (I’m Looking for Someone To Find Me) will shake you out of that lethargy. Then comb the D.A. back in place for the colliery band brass and melancholy of Our Darkness. Last track The Sun Refused To Shine is a break with the rest – moody muted drums, understated vocals, shimmering cymbals and blurred and stretched guitar, more Daniel Lanois than Daddy Cool.

Overall there’s perhaps a less grand and more invitingly intimate produced feel than on its predecessor, and much more variation. You won’t be challenged, just hugged by what seems to be series of familiar friends. Let down your streetwise guard and wallow in the loveliness of it all.
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Links
Richard Hawley [official site] [myspace] [buy it]