Ralfe Band
Swords

Lo-fi... lo-fi... how many times have I read this definition in music magazines, how many times have I told myself that maybe it means absolutely nothing. For a long time, I have thought that the reckless proliferation of musical labels and classifications is a sort of nonsensical mental masturbation. In this case, if we think about it, lo-fi is today a sticker to put on almost anything, but with what meaning? My impression is that in this way, it aims to qualify a certain musical craftsmanship, which sometimes tends to focus more on form than on content. However, the "homemade" execution does not necessarily mean it should represent a synonym for musical quality, nor is it possible, in my opinion, to elevate the method to content. Indeed, sometimes the use of the "genre" lo-fi gives me more the idea of a certain snobbery, a sort of medal for the value of the poverty of means, as if it assumes a wealth of results that is not at all guaranteed.

This whole "enthusiastic" preface-rant might also apply to this group that literally produced and recorded this debut album at home in 2006, which was recently released in Italy (Talitres - 2007). A work in which the "lo-fi" perception is present in the sounds, the songs, the arrangements and more generally in the spirit of the album. But what is the result in the end? The first approach can be said to be overall positive, because it's quite curious to get lost in the instability of the atmospheres that wink at different styles from waltz, to rock, folk, blues, country, etc., built with the use of few instruments: guitars, mandolins, percussion, winds, and accordion. But in truth, listening closely, one finds that these songs have nothing particularly original or striking, rather sometimes one has the feeling of listening to music conceived as a huge "cut and paste" distorted from similar styles, which with a bit of imagination can be identified in names like Matt Elliott, Will Oldham, or Neutral Milk Hotel, all deprived, however, of that painful apocalyptic force that fundamentally characterizes their appeal.

Thus, the Ralfe Band draws indiscriminately from the American and European folk tradition, does not disdain the use of samplers, enjoys using unconventional instruments like bells, toy piano, and cowbells. And everything is performed through the lighthearted and apparently naïve spirit of its creators (the English multi-instrumentalists Oly Ralfe, Andrew Mitchell, and John Greswell) who in this patchwork of sounds certainly had fun creating contrasts or combinations that sometimes seem improbable. So one smiles listening to a yodel-style voice blending with guitars and mandolins ("1500 Years"), but at the same time, one can be slightly annoyed by some drunken choruses ("Arrow And Bow") or wonder during listening how an electronic base suddenly pops up ("Bruno Mindhorn").

In general, it is a street music, wandering, itinerant, fascinating at times and poor only in appearance, actually having many ideas mixed together, even if not always lucidly. The overall impression listening to this quirky and skewed record is that these ramshackle notes draw a universe in which these dreamy and semi-serious song poets are having a bit of a laugh at themselves and us, perhaps exaggerating the musical registers with a particular taste for the grotesque and irony.

It remains an interesting album, curious, strange, and disorienting to listen to with the same spirit with which it was created, without the fear of not paying enough attention to a potential masterpiece, which, at least for me, is not there.