Don McGlashan... master craftsman.

I once saw the Chen Kaige film The 1000th String, about a blind old itinerant musician and his wayward young pupil in deepest rural china. It's a gorgeous movie with spectacular backdrop footage of the desert wilderness of some unknown Chinese province (although not for those with a short attention span - it was excruciatingly slow). What struck me at the time and remains with me still was the lifestyle of the pair - they would travel from village to village, staying just a few days, and in return for food and shelter they would play for the whole village. They'd play traditional folk songs, current pop songs, abstract spiritual meditations... with the villagers, entertainment-starved by their geographical remoteness, drinking in every note.

This is the way music, real music, used to be... back before the gramophone and before satellites, before Presley, before Michael Jackson and stadium tours and Billboard charts, before MTV. For the entire human race, for thousands of years, a musician was a guy who came to your village and played tunes on whatever instrument he could carry. He'd try and play songs you liked, but mostly you liked any and every song because there wasn't much choice.

Anyway my point is that music was once, and for some still is, a vocation. It's both a life-long work of art and a livelihood. It's a craft, and, like any other craft it takes years of discipline, and dedication, and love to learn the craftsmanship.

I would contend that the great artists of the twentieth century were Picasso and Dylan; they changed the way whole cultures view the world, and produced multiple bodies of work the scope of which we're only beginning to understand. Don McGlashan is no 'great' artist. He's not revolutionary, he does not speak to or for the age we live in. He's a folk artist both in subject and ambition. He's also an expert craftsman, a master in his chosen art form.

His artistic signature, evident to even first-time listeners, is his adept and liberal use of metaphor. This is so obvious it needs no elaboration, except to say that it is in all probability simply a natural talent. The hard-won mastery, the sweat and tears and blood and hunger part, is in his eloquence, in the balance and natural pace of his lyrics, and in his effortless shifting amongst a wide range of song styles. Like the folk artists of old, he (makes it seem as though he) can make a song from anything, and can perform it using any instrument to hand. The mastery is in the lightness of touch - you can't see the brush strokes.

A brief and probably inaccurate musical-biography. He began with the student art-rock band Blam Blam Blam. They wrote quirky and blackly satirical, post-punk/new romantic songs about social and sexual politics in 80's New Zealand. This was followed by the equally satirical musical theatre-cum-sitcom The Front Lawn. As reported to the folks back home in New Zealand, this was an international hit. I've no idea whether this is indeed true, but their two albums Songs from the Front Lawn, and More Songs from... remain dear in my heart (note: this is the heritage behind Flight of the Conchords).
In 1992 The Mutton Birds emerged, spearheaded by McGlashan though practically a supergroup in NZ terms; a traditional rock 4 piece producing irresistibly catchy, witty pop-rock songs with the occasional darker edge. In a decade they released 4 studio albums - unfortunately each was somewhat less commercially successful than the last.

Finally, McGlashan turned solo with 1996's Warm Hand, and just a few weeks ago his latest Marvellous Year.
His work as a solo artist is in truth very similar to the Mutton Birds in style and sound, though generally a little quieter and more intimate as one might expect. I haven't had a lot of time yet with Marvellous Year, but already I think it's the finest album of his long career. It's varied, engaging, warm and often joyful - he's clearly having the time of his life both personally and artistically, it's almost faultless. My minor quibbles are stylistic, I prefer albums which are consistent in style (which is why I struggle with much American r'n'b) so I find the last three tracks a bit too tangential. The title track though is possibly the best song I've heard this year so far.

A characteristic of McGlashan's material is that while the albums are strong and consistent and can be listened to in entirety, you'll find that each time you hear a particular song, it will grow in depth; each listen uncovers a smart phrase you hadn't noticed, or a quiet trill on his (famous) euphonium, a confident guitar lick or an exquisitely timed pause. His characters come vividly to life, and you'll find yourself randomly humming one of the choruses months later.

Highly recommended music from a lesser-known master.

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