ROB HALLWARD.

- Written On The Edge Of The Moon. 2009.

REVIEW BY Steve Norman:

It was with a degree of trepidation that I started writing this review, which may in part explain the amount of time it's taken me to get it done, and before I go any further I apologise to anyone with an interest in reading it that it has taken so long! So why the trepidation? This album, you see, despite it's tender age, has a history. As an observer of all sides involved, I can vouch that when eventually emerged, it had been charged with high emotion, frustration, an air of chaos and sometimes despair, so the concern had to be whether or not this would be the work of passion envisioned by its creator, or, to be frank, an inevitable compromise.

Before we get into that, a word about the aforementioned creator, Mr Robert Hallward. As much of a detractor of the insipid indie bands so prevalent over the last few years as I have been, I almost long to have those soul-less sounds forced upon me again in this new age of the ubiquitous 'singer-songwriter', which in my view is simply a contemporary label stating "no entertainment at this gig." And they're all teenagers! John Lydon must be turning in his grave. Where's the anger and the spitting, the sex and the glamour or even a modicum of excitement for the audience? "This is my new acoustic guitar" or "I only wrote this song five minutes ago so sorry if I make any mistakes" or "Thanks to my mum for driving me here tonight" is about as good as it gets. For god's sake, just wear something slutty and do a bottle of amyl on stage and you're half way there... Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I just wanted to let you know that Rob Hallward isn't one of those in case you were put off before reading any further

Next rant - when our local papers deign to mention a local gig (albeit with the wrong dates, location, etc. but you can't ask for everything) amidst the latest lesbian rock operas about the Yorkshire Ripper performed by 'special' school children that obviously loads of people are interested in, or the "Preoms in the Park" (I'm quoting that by the way), there is a recent phenomenon in our local press that really bugs me, and that's their use of the word 'legend' in almost every copy and paste of a press release sorry, music news article.

In this context of our local music scene, I would have thought becoming a legend would probably involve doing something outstanding (or being outrageous), probably over a long period of time, and probably even breaking the boundaries of our delightful market town now and again, but according to our local press, apparently all you need to do is either mimic someone else in an obscure Bedford pub every Sunday night ad nauseum, or for the under eighteens with slightly more ambition, you just need make the transition from playing a scout hut in somewhere like St Neots or Hitchin to playing a glorified scout hut in Bedford, then doing it again.

So in my opinion, legend is a word over-used in the under-used world of Bedford's music journalism, but of course there are plenty of candidates also fitting into my own definition of legend, and none more so than Rob Hallward. Rob is a true entertainer, and has been an inspiration to at least two generations of musicians, including myself. Eccentric. Outspoken. Passionate. Sensitive. Slightly mysterious. Slightly mischievous. Slightly scary. A showman... The things we traditionally might have looked for in great singer-songwriters, and what you also get with Rob, and that's why I'm eventually going to come on to reviewing his latest album, 'Written on the Edge of the Moon'.

So, given it's tortuous history, is it a compromise? I would say if it is, then it can only be seen that way in the eyes of the person that conceived it. In fact, I would go as far as saying it has given it an edge; an air of being ready to tip over a precipice, a sense of danger and uncertainty not necessarily present in Rob's previous solo albums but certainly always an element of his (all too rare!) live extravaganzas.

Despite this edginess, at it's heart is a pure grandiose pop sentiment; not a million miles away from later Beach Boys or mid-seventies Lou Reed, with obvious influences from the glam pantheon - Bowie, Essex (sorry Rob, couldn't resist), Eno-era Roxy Music, Wizzard, and dare I even say Bolan? (At least it wasn't Stardust or Glitter). And it never strays too far from that clever formula that I don't really understand but I'm sure is familiar to anyone who's ever written for theatre - there's always a definite music hall vibe, especially in the often complex lyrical structure and how it sits on top of the piano lines, and also in the vocal delivery itself; the trumpets and saxophone really add an extra dimension to this feeling, especially in 'Yes, it's You in Light' which, by the way, also treats us to some of Rob's characteristically unfathomable lyrics! "Perma-loving God solution" and "...we would live forever sex velvet when we spoke" being particular favourites. Whatever they mean, you've got to admit they're good! And while we're on the subject, only Rob Hallward could get away with "Plants are fascinating in their variety' as a credible opening line for 'Rainbow Valley'!

Nine hundred words and just two paragraphs about the album I'm reviewing - I've still got it! So before this turns into a hefty novel about something completely irrelevant, let me mention my favourite track from the fourteen on the album, 'Return'. This one's not so much about clever poetics as really pinning down something meaningful to many but not easy to express by many. As I said, this is pop. And you've got to love any song where the word "guitar" can be used so convincingly before a solo, especially one as based in melancholy (though always optimistic) as this!

What really sums up this album for me though, and indeed Robert Hallward himself, is that the make-up artist is credited on the inlay. As I said, a true showman indeed and something you really should experience with this new album. 'Come come come come delightedly mad' indeed.