Album Review: Paul Kelly - Nature

Paul Kelly’s work is wonderfully familiar – and even more so with this album. Driven by simple acoustics provided by regular collaborators like Peter Luscombe, Bill McDonald, Ash Naylor, Cameron Bruce and Dan Kelly – and of course, that gorgeous vocal twang – Kelly has put together a songbook built from own his work and also tracks written around poems borrowed from greats like Sylvia Plath, Dylan Thomas and Gerard Manley Hopkins. It’s a bold move in terms of ego, but one that his talent can definitely deliver on.

Opener And Death Shall Have No Dominion (borrowed from Thomas) takes the graveside to the campsite, rolling along, repeating the title line like an anthem, supported by Vika & Linda Bull to really bring it on home. A gentle but definite ‘fuck you’ to the grimmest of reapers. A similar sonic sentiment carries to single With The One I Love, dramatised as an old-school criminal trial for the accompanying video (well worth a viewing and features a great cameo by Mojo Juju). Next up is a total shift with A Bastard Like Me (For Charlie Perkins). This tune, originally written by Kelly as a poem inspired by Perkins’ autobiography, captures the indigenous activist's spark and grit. With the blessing of Perkins’ family, it is both a celebration and educational lesson, all delivered with a bloody good hook. 

There’s a sweet and funny disdain for humanity in the dreamy With Animals; while Bound To Follow (Aisling Song) features a soaring refrain from Kate Miller-Heidke, giving a ghostly feel and a nod to Irish folk. Kelly again finds the beauty in the ordinary with Seagulls Of Seattle, a story song as good as any in his back cat to date; while Morning Storm is just a classic, romantic and sweet love song, delivered without cynicism or underhandedness, just sheer delight at being with another and being allowed to take shelter with them – beautiful. This one is best combined with the string-supported gorgeousness of The River Song for best results – another lovely ode that celebrates small details. 

Plath’s Mushrooms gets a sleepy sound, delivered on the bed of Dan Kelly’s airy axe and with plenty of room between verses, inviting those in the know to dust off their old poetry books and examine the minimalist original again. Gerald Manley Hopkins’ God’s Grandeur is at first a bit jarring as Kelly deliberately rushes the lines together, hooked together with a chord structure so simple it almost feels like it’s come from a children’s show. The effect is deliberately ear-catching and almost overwhelming at times – perfectly capturing, upon second, third and fortieth, listen the awe shown in the poet’s original while again, the Bull sisters support and provide some redemption that’s perfectly on point.

In the promo for the album, Kelly proudly proclaims that this is an album of mostly short songs, with only one going for more than three minutes (to a self-indulgent four minutes and six seconds). This dedication to brevity makes the album all the more remarkable – a collection with no wasted time but somehow with plenty of room to invite the listener in.