There are some artists that jump up into your life through a single song and yet it’s their later solo work that you find has more depth, a greater need for you to hear it and a longevity that outlasts anything they might be ‘famous’ for. And sometimes, you don’t even know that until someone kindly introduces you to that later, solo work.
So it is with Pat MacDonald.
You may well be asking who? This is both a travesty and a chance for you to finally discover a special singer songwriter who in any other breath would sit alongside Mark Lanegan, or Jonathan Richman, as one of the greats in your record collection.
Now approaching his 75th birthday, Pat MacDonald is best known for his work in TIMBUK3, and you’ll recall the song, The Future’s So Bright (I Gotta Wear Shades). A catchy little number that caught the attention of pre-teen me with its catchiness and B52-esque quirkiness, mostly thanks to him sharing vocal duties with his then wife, Barbara K. Here’s a reminder:
Fast forward 13 years and TIMBUK3 are no more. Pat is sitting in Barcelona (according to his Bandcamp page, that is) and writing songs. They’re bluesy, acoustic songs, with lyrics so sharp they could slice ham wafer thin. He retains that ability to write catchy songs that take root in your brain and play on repeat for days afterwards. And by track three, Water, you wonder how it’s taken you almost thirty years to hear these tunes.
I’ve got a customer, Ian, to thank for introducing me to this collection of songs. I was instantly smitten. It came out on Miles and Stewart Copeland’s Ark 21 label in 1997, although I would only know this from Pat’s Wikipedia page, which I’m reading while listening to the sparse and haunting Seven.
There’s a lot to take in on the 16 songs that comprise Pat MacDonald Sleeps With His Guitar (to give the album it’s title in full). Saxophone bass notes that occasionally break through on Turn On Me, which snarls its way through four minutes of minor chord blues guitar (that sounds almost slightly off-key but isn’t) and wild, wailing harmonica, the beat provided by what sounds like a stoned percussionist.
There are tender moments of finger picked guitar that bring rays of sunshine amidst the downtrodden blues. These moments let you appreciate the lyrical wit that Pat brings forth. The melody in Daddy’s Down The Mine sidesteps the standard scan you’d expect, starting higher than your brain considers right before pulling you into the darker world that MacDonald creates with this shifting guitar licks, moving from major to minor in similar ways to Chris Cornell on his own solo work.
Drive Me Around is the favourite on this third listen through. That Cornell kind of songwriting it there again. Or those softer Alice In Chains songs. And yet this is so far from being ‘grunge’ that the genre not even a third cousin thrice removed. There’s just that underlying darkness I mentioned before that keep making its presence felt. A path in the woods that invites exploration but leads you astray in a way the wolf pulls Red Riding Hood off the beaten track.
It’s not in any way depressing to listen to, though. MacDonald is too smart songwriter and he understands a hook; knows that its the twists and turns of the music that catch your attention. His use of harmonica is a particular strength, using it sparingly to create an atmosphere of the smoky club he surely played these songs in back when they were freshly birthed.
Even on the more straightforward songs, MacDonald excels. Stupid Simple Song is a perfect example. Some subtle but necessary percussive touches lift the song to a higher plain. And then there’s the chord changes that keep things so interesting and are, if you hadn’t worked it out, a mainstay of his man’s work. This is also the case for the song that follows, Beautiful Beautiful Thing, that has some fantastic lyrics that sell the story he’s telling without needing to add anything more than the exact right amount of detail. I’ll be repeating the word beautiful over and over again in MacDonald’s voice in my dreams. It’s like a Kurt Vile lyric but minus the lazy drawl.
There are 16 songs on this album, but the quality doesn’t drop, not even a little. There is no dip. The humour helps. The line ‘”This is absurd” came the word from Jehovah “You can’t get to Heaven in a Chevy Nova. Noah, build a yacht, we gotta start over!”‘ from History Of Man will, for reasons I can’t really articulate, be making me smirk for the rest of today.
And from there you’re led down to the final tracks, culminating in the final song Thanks For Comin’ which feels like exactly that, a thank you from an artist who until now you may never have heard of beyond that minor 80’s hit. Yet, when you tell someone else about this album, which you surely will, it’ll be a thank you from Pat for introducing more people to his excellent music.
Thanks Ian, for bringing this album to my attention. And thanks Pat, I’m glad I came.
The album isn’t on vinyl, but you can stream it. Or just click the link below and have a YouTube playlist beamed into your ears.