JOHNNY FLYNN – BEEN LISTENING

From the olive tree that is the ever-blossoming British folk scene, one of the youngest and most interesting branches is that of Johnny Flynn. His voice – a strident, earthen Celtic baritone – rails over his songs with ease and flourish and his lyrics,  so often dotted with sly references to English literature and brimming with social discovery, get right into the subconscious. This is his second album, and his friendship with giants the likes of Marcus Mumford and Laura Marling has led to a more expansive palate than that of his first album A Larum, which showcased the solo-mode, ragged ale-house folksinger in him. This time, the songs rollick along with textures of brass, mandolins, pianos, a million guest vocalists and a general playfulness that is refreshing to hear, if less hauntingly effective than his rawer recordings. The darkly stirring Lost and Found is Flynn at his best – where the nakedness of his lyrical delivery is in full force amid folk instrumentation that rolls like a river. Even for the less effective quirky experiments throughout, at the core of this record is a very fine young songwriter whose craft has already expanded to a force way beyond his years. What next, O London nu-folk circuit?

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