(Talking Elephant Records: TECD489)
Recent reviews have described this new album since Valhalla 13 years ago by the legendary ‘70s quartet Stray as their latest and best, yet that overlooks their songwriting guitarist/vocalist Del Bromham’s solo albums and other bands such as The Blues Devils through the decades. Since their origins in west London during the swinging late 1960s, Stray’s twenty albums are so consistently good as a catalogue to legitimately be labelled classics, some tracks covered by the famous including Iron Maiden and Rush who were big fans.
This new gatefold digipack or limited orange vinyl About Time fits perfectly in their career as a modern addition with current lyrics that aren’t really social commentary but reflections on the modern times we find (or lose) ourselves in during and since the big C went viral, when Stray were in the middle of a UK tour. The intention from the start was to record a rock album that continued their original distinctive rumbling sound of melodic power and smouldering riffs.
Former vocalist Pete Dyer returns with backing vocals/guitar (he added harmonica on an early John Renbourn LP!) from such as Fire & Glass in 1975. Also featured are Karl Randall on drums/percussion (Stray’s Live In Japan and Blues Devils), Colin Kempster bass on his Stray debut, and producer/studio-owner Simon Rinaldo (Bowfinger; Pearl Handled Revolver) on Hammond organ, synthesizer, piano and accordion (Del did keys on previous LPs). Each contribute backing vocals too, while Cara Randall adds beautiful viola for one track. If you like tight, driving loud and mean but also subtle breaks, with time shifting riffs enough to reduce Dr. Who to a blob, then this is up your street and into the hills.
I Am opens with acoustic strumming edging into a rocking atmospheric solo amid a classic chorus “I am a lion, I am a tiger, I am a rock ‘n’ roll survivor…’ about desire and determination despite obstacles that life can throw at you, the strength to be true to one’s creative self, an anthemic live set opener if ever there was. About ‘the highs and many lows of a lifetime [as] a musician’, he brought this to the early sessions unsure if the band would like what turned out to be enjoyed by them, which ignited energy for his songwriting. Living The Dream’s boogie guitar and Hammond sweeps over pounding drums and bass with singalong harmonies a bit like Thin Lizzy about ‘people’s perception of the life you live which isn’t always the reality’. An almost 60s feel with subtle riffing underpinned by Deep Purpleish Hammond adorns the almost apocalyptic (‘What would happen if the sun died?’) but joyous Black Sun, with a kick that that decade sometimes mislaid, in ripping time changes just where a ‘60s track might run out of ideas grinding to a halt.
Blood From A Stone on the contrast between the wealthy and rest has a double line riff a little like Man in their earlier prog phase, remarking that ‘Talk is cheap, action’s better/are things we’ve always known/you can’t get blood from a stone’. Bells and viola herald the seven-minute-plus Eastern and Middle Eastern flavours with sitar-like drone of Shout: everyone shouting but no one listens to reason, lyrics that should be sent through every letter box in the country. Better Day is during Covid (without codicil update about exposed lies or consequences), trepidation but optimism stung through driving rhythm and nice bass break over piano ending with appropriate wind effect (SFX was a staple early album trope). The limited 500 vinyl run ends with Sword Of Damocles, the last song brought to the studio when they thought the LP done, about what riches may result in and that with power comes responsibility as well as risk, over choral backing vocals.
The vinyl limit means three bonus CD tracks: That Is Not Enough, an almost pop -rocker of wah-wah guitar and thumping tubs about world inequality and useless governmental self-enriching at the expense of everyone else that never changes, including charities down the decades, subjects Del Bromham addresses all his life in words never trite (‘Why are buildings in London empty while many are homeless?’). The erosion of free speech and shouted-down art of conversation (hence its title Raise Your Hand as at a meeting or rally requesting support and the singer too!) ‘with language I don’t recognise’ is a widely held view, and Del says to me that this ‘pretty straight forward rocker’ was probably the first song brought to sessions. Emotive closer Dust In Your Pocket has acoustic plus accordion for a working people’s lament about a life of toil with nought to show for it, as banksters can do anything to those on credit in this modern era (first done to farmers in the interwar American Depression as relegated to economic university discussion alas) yet he’s positive about his life choices and stands firm as a worker, definitely an emblem of this band built on honest graft.
Incidentally the booklet mixes up the track and lyric order, but rectified on the cover as above. Recorded in rural Cambridgeshire, starting back in 2021, it glides with raw power like 70s Stray. I’m not a big fan of Hammond just big—preferring a bare bone power trio usually—but subtly embellishes light and shade as this still ticks all the boxes of what pure rock should be about. Valid now as well as for those recalling evocative weekly ads at the back of Melody Maker: a tight unit weaving energy and magic again. Criticism? The forty five minutes could be longer! Stray’s diversity, a signature pace-changing melodic heavy sound richly rooted in blues rock with heart-felt lyrics, shines again here.
Many thanks to Del Bromham for his comments on the songs’ backgrounds.
Brian R. Banks
