Thirty Pounds of Bone: I Cannot Sing You Here, But for Songs of Where
I Cannot Sing You Here, But For Songs Of Where
Thirty Pounds Of Bone
It’s organic and immediate, music you can touch with your fingertips. Thirty Pounds of Bone, aka Johny Lamb, from the Shetland Island of Unst, is hewn of stuff akin to that of Jon Hopkins (in his King Creosote/Diamond Mine mode). Lamb’s third album sets him apart with the vociferous indie sensibility that defined The Band at their vagrant best. Populated by snapshots of itinerancy and second-generation migrancy, Lamb’s visceral tone strikes many a lonesome chord. Dislocation and disconnection are writ large on The Ballad of Cootehill , shot through with rich local references. A lazier Lamb might have morphed into The Pogues on Prozac, but instead he shines a sharp light on life’s darker underbelly. A multi-layered, ragged-edged delight. thirtypoundsofbone.
Download: The Snow In Kiel, Home Faring