Houdini and the Sucker Punch

The superb title track, which opens the album, is classic Bruntnell – irresistible and melodic alt-country with a plaintive undercurrent.

It’s followed by the sublime and jangly ‘The Flying Monk’, with Bruntnell’s guitar on ‘Johnny Marr setting’ and, if that wasn’t good enough, it has a neat lyrical homage to The Smiths’ ‘Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others’: “Saint Joseph told the rebel as he emptied a yard of ale…”

If we’re talking classy British guitar pop, then The Beatles also get a look in – ‘Head Smashed-In Buffalo Jump’, which was inspired by touring the US with Son Volt, is soaked in Revolver-era psych and Fab Four vocal harmonies, with synth and organ only serving to expand this head-spinning cosmic trip. 

From spacey shenanigans to a song that Bruntnell says has a “very vibey feel” – the hopeful, anthemic and epic ‘Let There Be A Scar,’ which also has organ and harmonies, but adds a touch of Everly Brothers, Neil Young’s ‘90s grungy stadium rock, and even the pop sensibilities of Deacon Blue.

Guitar gunslinger James Walbourne fires off some ace twanging on the playful and galloping Wild West adventure that is ‘Yellow Gold’ – Bruntnell is on bouzouki duties – while things are taken down a notch with the yearning ballad, ‘Sharks,’ which has a lovely melancholy feel thanks to Laura Anstee’s mournful cello. 

‘No Place Like Home’ is upbeat and jangly Americana – the Byrdsy guitars ring out like ‘The Bells of Rhymney’ – and first single, ‘Out of the Pines’, has a fuzzy, Stephen Malkmus-style guitar intro and, for anyone who knows Bruntnell from his years slogging away on the Americana gig circuit, some wonderful, bleary-eyed opening lines: ‘I’ve never been much good at getting up in the morning – singing after dark has been my tune…’

Talking about the song, he says: “No one likes getting up and going to work in the morning. I used to be terrible at it, on account of my extensive social life.”

A much more sedate pastime is referenced in the pedal steel-laced, moody and haunting R.E.M-esque ballad, ‘Stamps of the World’ – think ‘Country Feedback’ from Out of Time. 

“As a child I was an avid stamp collector,” explains Bruntnell. “I had the finest collection of Penny Reds in New Malden.” 

The closing song, the stripped-back ‘Jimmy Mac,’ finishes the record in a suitably subdued mood – Anstee’s sad cello makes a reappearance, creating a gorgeous, autumnal ambience, while Dave Little’s twangy guitar evokes Glen Campbell’s eerie and melancholy pop masterpiece, ‘Wichita Lineman.’

When I reviewed Bruntnell’s last album for hi-fi+ I said he deserves much more recognition. A few years before, NME went even further and said his music should be placed on school curriculums.

If you don’t know Bruntnell’s music, then it’s time to do your homework – start with Houdini and the Sucker Punch and then work backwards.

You’ll thank me for it, and, after that, there’ll be no escape.

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