Word review

The Word
DANNY & THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD
Streets of Our Time

Uplifting uproar from Danny Wilson and his band of conscripts.

Some albums harbor no greater ambition than to help you hear the beat of your own heart a little more clearly. Danny Wilson makes tremendously human music, the open-throated melodies matching the open-hearted sentiments: Henry The Van, a rolling paean to a knackered tour bus, descends the scales like a VW camper with a  dodgy handbrake, while on Wandle Swan Wilson’s weather-beaten tones – pitched somewhere between John Hiatt and Neil Young – make the plea to “meet me at the graveyard tomorrow night” sound sweetly noble. Driven by banjo, pedal steel and drums that sound like a Cossack ricocheting through the steppe, it’s the kind of music best heard in a small room with a bunch of like-minded souls drinking each other under the carpet, stopping occasionally – as on the sad, circuitous title track – to gaze in the middle distance as the memory of another unfulfilled dream floats past.

Graeme Thompson