Beyond Olden Acre are a four piece from the west of Ireland, now living in the east. Judging by the title and atmosphere of their new EP, The Western Seaboard, the band are experiencing a case of premature nostalgia.
Danny Sheeran, Colin Walsh, Brian Nally and Caitríona Ross sound more mature in years than they actually are, delivering a short play-list of airy folk that carries you gently through an endless field of sun-bathing wheat— not unlike the one found on the EP’s cover.
Obviously such a sound will offer no accompaniment to pre-drinking, but if the mood takes you, so will the tunes.
We open with ‘Western Seaboard, 1913’, our first inhalation of the fresh country air. Harmonicas dancing, female harmonies hiding under a distinctive drawl. It’s a little monotonous, but the lovely imagery in the lyrics is enough to distract you. The song has a distinct retrograde tone, sounding a bit like it was recorded to cassette in one take, with Nally almost breathless toward the end. It’s not fashionable or trendy, but that’s the draw.
‘Darkest plains’ has a surly atmosphere, the plains live up to their name. Ahhs and oohs warm the backdrop of a male/female vocal relay, and the results are pleasing. The rhythm makes it, carrying a beat akin to a slow-galloping horse roving through the desert. This works, as the song creates the atmosphere one would imagine comes with hanging out in a field with pick under tongue, and a straw hat on head. Saying that, Ross’s female vocal introduces an underlying retro feel, marrying an 80s new wave vibe with that of deep country folk.
Brian Nally has said that the EP was written about the lonely coast of Connemara. Nautical themes conjure images of a freezing beach, but lines such as “We walked for miles in the Hot Country sun,” feels more ‘barren farmland in the Midwestern states’ than ‘drizzly coast of West Ireland’.
The EP’s finale, ‘Sing My Child’, is sentimental and mushy. Guitar plucks dictate the song, until intervals of “Alleluia” transport you into a Sunday service. This track sounds like a hybrid of a religious hymn and a lullaby—neither of which I was expecting or willing to embrace. But, in typical fashion—it’s so odd, that it’s actually quite good.
Despite some bizarre lyrics (“The earth is spinning in its grave”), the delicate twinkling of instrumentals frame the best vocals on the EP. Modest Mouse influences are worn with no shame, and why would they, when the results are this good?
The Western Seaboard is a 7 minute gust of lethargic wind. But who doesn’t like the sound of wind as they fall asleep at night? While it’s a relaxing listen, there’s nothing here that really leaves a lasting mark. Beyond Olden Acre still have a bit to go if they’re to create as much of an impact as that Great Wave in 1913.