The Small Heath Book of the Dead, the second solo album by Matthew Edwards after many records with the Music Lovers, the Unfortunates, the Futurists, and the Hairdressers, continues his high standards of excellence as a songwriter, singer, and record maker. This is no surprise to anyone who’s been following the Birmingham, UK-born/San Francisco-based troubadour’s career over the decades, as he’s one of the finest musicians treading the boards of stage or studio.
But let’s assume you’ve not heard of Mr. Edwards or the music he’s been making since the nineties. (We’ll put aside his music with Dance in the Birmingham post-punk scene from long ago for simplicity’s sake.) The Small Heath Book of the Dead presents a unique picture of his art. His work always displays a high degree of craft – moreso than most songwriters, frankly. But for this record he loosens the reins a bit, penning some songs that sound like early drafts. This isn’t done in a careless way – not a track here is some tossed-off scrap, and clearly some revisions and polish went into these tunes. But it feels more like Edwards is following the Buddhist-derived “first thought, best thought” MO championed by Allen Ginsberg and others. On cuts like “New English Library” (a contemplation of the literature of his adolescence and its effect on his youthful sexuality), “Experimental Theatre” (a witty tale of romantic dissolution due to the title entity), and “Matthew Edwards vs. Himself” (as rolled-”r” wry an expression of self-laceration as you might ever hear – “the irony is hard to disguise,” indeed), Edwards strips his vision down to more direct expression of his ideas and emotions than ever before.
None of this is to say that Edwards’ doesn’t still indulge his high standards of craft. Check out the title track, “Old Albion,” and “The John Betjeman Blues” (another in his series of nods to English authors and poets) for examples of his usual songsmithery – that latter cut is one of his greatest opening numbers. Edwards’ self-production also fills out the tracks with judiciously applied pedal steel and folk/jazz bass – think BJ Cole and Danny Thompson. The combination of Edwards’ writing brilliance with the less polished nature of some of the songs makes The Small Heath Book of the Dead a standout in his catalog – there’s plenty of markers here for longtime fans, but also a fresh approach that should draw the attention of new recruits.
