Bradford Monk – Bradford Monk and the Foggy Hogtown Boys (2011)

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by Nick DeRiso

Inspired by a record-release performance by the Toronto-based Foggy Hogtown Boys, fellow Canadian Bradford Monk decided to compose a traditional bluegrass recording. By that, he didn’t mean sped-up country songs. He meant honest-to-goodness, real-deal bluegrass – done the old-fashioned way, with no winking irony or next-gen updates.

His singular focus has paid rich dividends. Their self-titled CD, set for release early this year, features a series of emotionally complex, intellectually challenging string arrangements, each paired with direct, heartfelt vocal performances from Monk.

Arriving as it does in a world of processed pop singers and hypnotic mechanical rhythms, Bradford Monk and the Foggy Hogtown Boys sounds like a found object, a piece of mint-condition antique furniture tucked away in a bustling corner store. Together, they explore the trials, tribulations and lasting joys of life and love. And, more often than not, they sound like they are having a ball.
On “Suzanne,” a plucky picker with this swirling mandolin interlude by Andrew Collins, Monk quietly pines for a girl he can’t have: “I know you want to love me but you don’t,” Monk sings, “I know you want to leave him but you don’t. Take a chance on me, Suzanne.”

The last lingering dreams of a doomed prep-school romance die hard in “Bringing Coal.” “The Cowboy and Pearl,” a steel guitar-soaked story song, tells the lonesome tale of a travelling rodeo performer and his long-suffering wife.

In “Remember Every Day,” Monk counts off passion’s blessings: “I’ll be the rain, you be the rainbow,” he sings. “Like a violin needs a string bow, like a snow man needs a snow, and green grass needs to grow – you know that I love you.”

“Love and War” is flirtatious track that highlights the prodigious talent found amongst the Hogtown Boys, featuring Chris Coole and Chris Quinn on banjos and John McNaughton on bass. Monk is reduced to a moaning whisper as he tries to find the way back to a girl’s good graces on “Maybe Baby,” this dreamy country blues.

“Rosie,” a gripping ballad in the Civil War style, is tale of a fervor that lingers, even years after the passing of a partner. As her final moments loomed, “she said, ‘Gone is the girl you dreamt of.’ I took her hand and I whispered completely, ‘You’re still the girl that I loved.’” The pain of fighting for live has worn her down, though, to the point where she has but one simple request: “Oh Lord, please lay me down. Please lay me down, gently into the cold ground.”

Similarly, the sweetly nostalgic “Titanic” can’t mask the terror awaiting at the bottom for the ship’s stranded passengers.

Sounding something like Lyle Lovett, Monk sings with an oaken, almost barren honesty. But don’t get to thinking Bradford Monk and the Foggy Hogtown Boys is a trip to the bottom of the holler. There is usually a knee-slapping hootenanny just around the corner from every hilltop lament.

The aptly named “Hold On Darling” shoots across the soundscape with John Showman’s sawing fiddle and this galloping banjo. Meanwhile, Monk admits to knowing nothing about love, though he aims to try to figure something out – and quickly.

“I’m Alright” is a charging charmer, the musical personification of a sunny disposition. “Sweet Marie” ends up as a warbling mash note.
The recording ends with a live rendition of “Too Much Talkin’, Not Enough Drinkin,” a humorously salacious complaint over a too-talkative girlfriend. “She talks about her hair,” Monk cries, “like it’s some kind of revelation.” Soon, the lively crowd is joining with his call-and-response chorus.

You will be too, as this pleasantly authentic bluegrass pp comes to its delightful close.

Nick DeRiso