Totnes. A place that stands up for itself, that stands out for taking a stand. It’s a creative town, one that refuses to bow to the mainstream. And for that reason it flourishes. It’s also home to one of the best record shops in the UK, Drift Records.
If you know Drift Records, you’ve probably met Rupert as he’s one of the co-founders. I would guess I have, too, yet at the time I had no idea of his musical output. Then recently, I spotted a post by Neil from the excellent band, SHOPFIRES that had an album in his ongoing ‘Unloved Vaults’ series on Instagram. That photo was of an album and that album was Learning About Loathing. It had the look of something I thought I might like – and to be honest, when I see something I don’t know my first instinct it always to go and play it.
I’m so glad I did.
Learning About Loathing gives you chills. Recorded on vintage, analogue equipment in a rural church in St. Melnus, Cornwall, it has an emotional heft within the eight songs that were captured to committed to the record. More than many records you’ll ever get to hear. It’s raw, yes, but these flaws are what gives it that heft. Somehow, the atmosphere of that church has been imbued throughout.
Think of the early Palace Brothers, or some of Nick Drake’s output, and you’ll be close. Especially on tracks like Honestly Now and Summer Bride. Yet, the songs that resonated most with me were those where that atmosphere I mentioned earlier is upfront and present, such as my favourite track, Night Falls. It’s haunting, especially as the distorted drone shifts into the following track, Funeral For A Foe, with its eerie drum beat.
For such a simple album it’s incredibly complex. There is a thrum to these songs; what I mean by that is that they hang in your bones, becoming part of the energy that sustains you in the days following each listen. Rupert’s voice is like a mirrored pool that draws you back for another look, because it’s impossible to not wonder what lies beneath the still warm waters of his voice, about the stories that led to these songs being written and recorded.
I would suggest it’s impossible not to be moved by this small, tight collection of songs. For all their lightness, they’ll weigh on your conscience. From the opening drums, detuned guitars and gentle vocals of the title track to the final harmonies in alt-love song of In Out, this is an album that captivates the listener. If it were available on vinyl, I could imagine someone pulling it off their shelf, perhaps finding a small crackle as the needle finds the groove, and that person settling back into their favourite chair, eyes closed and a smile breaking on their lips like a wave across a beach.
Try it.