John Lees' Barclay James Harvest
North

Rarely have I ever felt so emotional while holding and savoring a new record. Anticipated but unexpected, in my mind this album has revived some little heroes of the progressive scene, the Barclay James Harvest, people who have been making their own music for 45 years.

I had somewhat given up on them after listening to their '79 record, their first without the historic keyboardist Stuart Wolstenholme. From that year on, they continued on their path, struggling through the 80s and garnering a good following, especially in Germany, Switzerland, and France. I'm not sure how it happened, but bassist Les Holroyd must have clashed with guitarist and founder John Lees; the result was two different formations, each with elongated names echoing BJH with thematic variations. They carried on for who knows how many years, then in 2010 Wolly the keyboardist, who remained faithful to Lees, took his own life.
The moral of the story? John Lees, now a gray, friendly old man living in the tranquil English countryside, got to work. Gathering his band of burly Englishmen, he composed, recorded, and produced a new album, simple, honest, and above all, a progressive album, almost entirely at his home.
“North” has everything BJH is known for: solemn and profound guitar textures, discreet and affectionate vocals, robust arrangements reminiscent of full orchestras, the support of an entire brass section. Yet it is a modern album, in sound as well as in instrumentation; although the almost homemade production quality is not always perfect, it is often compensated by a greater, polished, and warm feeling.

It is an album that enthusiasts will savor in one breath, because listening to the mellotron’s tremolo lament in 2013 is something incredibly touching. The song is “On Leave,” dedicated to the friend’s suicide, nine minutes of varied beauty but with bursts of ardor in 5 and 6/8, guitar and keyboard solos. A perfect prog song like “Ancient Waves” and “North.” The former is a long ballad, delicate but with good vein, intense even in its lyrics that speak of soldiers fallen in battle; the latter is a majestic and powerful watercolor of England, with many rhythm variations throughout its eight-plus minutes.
There are also more particular and even surprising pieces, like “On Top Of The World,” a poignant lament supported solely by the “Frugal Horns” brass and sparse piano notes. It tells of the English miners, those who in the last century made the British Empire great and who are now forgotten along with all their sacrifices. No contemporary politics or other similar baseness here; there is only memory and pride for a lost age. More chills with “At The End Of The Day,” which closes the album: the lyrics are a poem by some Ammon Wrigley, the arrangement only keyboards; I’ll stop here, listen to believe.

BJH also offers more ordinary ballads like the opening “If You Were Here Now” and “Unreservedly Yours.” Slightly more than just nice, the first is particularly negligible in its diligent banality, while the second is more lively and intriguing due to the various solos. The worst of the lot is “The Real Deal,” poorly executed because prepared with ingredients foreign to Lees. It is in fact a bland hard-rock with vaguely roots tones, which has a good and well-sung lyric, but lacks verve and especially lasts almost six minutes: an exaggeration. Is something missing? Yes, because “In Wonderland” deserves special mention; personally, it took me several listens to appreciate it. At first glance, it seems like an unsuccessful up-tempo, a bit awkward and not even sung that well, but instead, it turns out to be inexplicably intriguing, with a cheerful almost jazzy piano interlude and interesting lyrics, in which Lees makes fun of this damn social world, connected and shared in a thousand ways. Well done, old man, capable of looking around and showing us the present with lively disillusionment.
Brief technical note. The true name of the group is “John Lees' Barclay James Harvest,” but I like to affectionately consider them as the pure and simple BJH. John Lees, with his elderly, trembling voice, sings almost all the pieces, except for “If You Were Here Now,” “The Real Deal,” “On Top Of The World,” and a couple of verses on “North”; in these cases, the (good) voice is that of bassist Craig Fletcher. Kudos to Jez Smith, keyboards (though it would have been better if he used a real Hammond...) and drummer Kev Whitehead, sometimes inadequately supported by a sound not always up to par.

This is “North.” A small great surprise with its changing and touching atmospheres, beautiful lyrics, its prog revisited so freshly. A dignified work, the result of a passion and a production effort that deserves to be rewarded. A result of the long experience of John Lees, a forgotten pioneer of the late '60s, who doesn’t forget his past but moves forward with head held high, his mind always on the lost comrades, “best of cronies and straightest of men...”
In my very small way, I will always appreciate such attempts and am particularly proud and satisfied to have purchased this record. You, if you like, give it a listen without hesitation.
Thank you and congratulations, BJH.