Dylan James - Expected to Fly (2023) Hi-Res

The debut album from Dylan James, mysterious Bristol born London based musician, takes his unique lyrical approach and pulls it down a heavily used road. Has it got enough to stand out? MK Bennett has a listen.

It used to be that singer-songwriter acoustic troubadours were quite thin on the ground at least since the late seventies, when they were in their cowboy shirt prime, but since the late nineties, when Damian Rice and David Gray brought men with feelings back into the chart, there has been a slow and steady quiet revolution, now ubiquitous in our media, especially the height of the marketing campaign, the TV advert. Not implicitly a bad thing, the rent has to be paid and the kids have to be fed but it has led to a sort of schmaltzy end game, where acoustic equals soft and gentle picking, like a childhood blanket or a nervous lover.

So, Dylan James, a Bristolian who spends his time between there and London, a singer-songwriter with a past best remembered in song than conversation it seems, and like many of us, a man far happier expressing himself some way other than socially., has released Expected to Fly, his debut album I gather, though there seems to be a lot of self-recorded material about if its good enough for Daniel Johnston, a man almost literally wearing his heart on his sleeve, then it’s a perfectly reasonable means of expression for Dylan too. This, his first “official” release, is produced by Noah and the Whale’s Matt Owens, in a mostly understated and fairly subtle way, a violin here, accordion there, letting the rhythms come from the melodies, the pauses, the words, in imagined oceans where we lose time and try to gain it again.

He has on his side a very strong, clear voice, reminiscent of a thousand others, as all great singers sound like you’ve heard them before, but you’re never sure where, just buried in memories. It is surprisingly Northern, the musical ghosts of both Mathers and Power casting long shadows through the vocals, but there’s less obvious stuff too, Gomez, Lamontagne, Parsons, Petty, and the greatly missed Gavin Clark. If this and indeed Dylan, have a musical touchstone though, an accidental formula, it is early James and the casual brilliance of Tim Booth’s voice, Getting Away with It in particular, a much-undervalued alternative National Treasure.
Painted It Gold, is a feelgood hit of the summer if we had one, a big brassy bold statement of seemingly happy intent, with a big guitar hook and great backing vocals, something to wake the kids for breakfast. while Let’s Talk seems to be about barriers between people, couples, lovers, a chance to explain, or be misunderstood.

Where Dylan is different becomes apparent here as the themes he explores are a little different, a little more direct, and a little less filtered through certain concerns. It is in totality, an examination of modern masculinity by one who feels he might have been left behind somewhat but is doing his best to keep up. Black Cloud is a proper late-period Tom Petty vibe, the lyrics about helping and being helped through depression, with a huge chorus and a big heart. The piano-led Hide is next, pulling the sheets over your head, for one more minute, one more day, knowing she is your redemption, but she doesn’t know it, and doesn’t want to, another simple but affecting chorus and build to the coda, you’ll be singing these songs for days. Cracking Up is close to Neil Young and Crazy Horse before dipping into a slighter verse, seems to be about escape or the inability to do so, Ian McCullough with added humility.

Make Up Your Mind carries the guitar-heavy theme on, dragged along by some excellent harmonica work, and more worries about being washed up. These are on the surface big chorus folk-rock songs, nicely polished for the radio, and whilst it is that absolutely, yes, these are the mantras of the This Is England generation, ‘ shat on by the Tories and shovelled up by Labour ‘, of running a car then scrapping it before its MOT, of Post Office queues and employment office blues, of the cold grey never-ending gnawing feeling that something is missing, something that is too far gone to be fixable.

Boys Yard is an upbeat pop song, Squeeze, XTC vintage, which starts with the great line ‘You can be a hero in your own backyard…’ about dreams and dreaming, what it costs, what you lose. What Would You Say is a straightforward love song, countrified in the way of Kristofferson or Williams, words laced with doubt but still hopeful, yearning.

I’m NOT Superman is the one they are pushing forward, and it’s easy to see why its YouTube count is so high, there are likely very few songs that mention Mister Maker from CBeebies, let alone make it sound this poignant, this heartbreaking. This is what it means to be a man as we live now, in constant fear you cannot reach the hero status that your kids want you to reach, need you to, while you struggle to get through the day, the cost of everything increasing constantly. It’s just another tightrope you have to walk, but it’s on the surface another reason to smile, another big chorus that he pulled you in on and made you complicit.

I Am Your Sound is the final song, a descriptive thing, where music is the salvation, and should and could have carried on for another ten minutes but doesn’t. Like the rest of the album, it arrives, tell its tale and leaves with no fanfare.

It is meticulously crafted, produced and arranged, and if it continues on the road set by the final songs, it should be as big as he wants it /needs it to be, John Lewis permitting.