My Country

Imagine stories whispered as you sink into unconsciousness. Imagine rolling rhythms insinuating themselves into the marrow so deep that they never leave. Imagine a song cycle so cohesive it'd take a Glaswegian tug-o-war team to sunder it. Well, now that you've got your imagination fired, you can possibly conjure a whiff of Freddie White's My Country. And if your appetite's not whetted enough to reach out for the main course, your taste buds must be lurking somewhere in the region of your bowels.

This is an album that'd give those hallowed Texan playboys, The Flatlanders, a decent run for their money. 'Dog' reeks of Jimmy Dale Gilmore, with that trademark Gilmore nasal whine replaced by a throaty funkiness that'd be the pride and joy of any honky tonk corner boy. 'Talk To Me' is a somnolent, contemplative look at love that's invigoratingly free of lazy sentiment or cliché, while 'The Last Supper' is an ironic take on, of all things, the disappearance of Shergar . . . ah yes, discriminating taste has always set White apart from his contemporaries.

Left-field sense of humour and sophisticated lyrics have always been White's calling card, and My Country - a collection of 11 songs, all taken from, or inspired by the writings of White's deceased brother-in-law, Don O'Sullivan - captures his essence with pitch-perfect timing.

Declan Sinnott has assumed co-production duties alongside White, and his trademark quirky chord progressions are evident in all the most unlikely corners. And it's heartening to hear White's longtime backing vocalist Tony Davis on duty these days. He's always brought a maverick touch to the task, and always delivered it with relish.

My Country is a low key affair, the offering of a musician who's already gone down too many paths of other people's choosing to be bothered with blind alleys or main streets. It's replete with literate songwriting that pre-supposes an attentive audience. And if some people think that's too much to ask, then so what?

Freddie White's always been more at home on the secondary roads, because after all, that's where the real action is.