‘Far Away’ feels like a song that has fallen into the present from some sort of psychedelic-pop, dayglo, paisley-patterned past, a place that is woven partly from actual nostalgia and partly from the soundtrack to trippy dreams. The sort of music that is ushered in by the consumption of too much cheese too close to bedtime.
Now, that might have sounded flippant, but that is not my intention; it’s just that people don’t seem to make music like this anymore- this breezy, this buoyant, this beguiling…and that- which is a shame.
After a bit of a personal shock to the system, Ron-Ian Cottam, quite understandably, lost his musical focus for a while, and this single marks his return to the sonic fray. I guess that when faced with the fragility of life, the need to create often becomes even more necessary; it becomes a form of expression, of communication, perhaps even a legacy. But that is not for me to say. Even more poignant, though, is that he used to play this song with a friend and fellow musician, Stéphane De Schryver, so it was an obvious song to pick up the thread and forge onwards.
‘Far Away’ is a wonderfully jaunty, folky frolic, echoing Summer of Love vibes as much as it plays with more contemporary roots sounds. It also muses on the timeless themes of freedom, flight, and leaving your troubles behind, new starts and better tomorrows. It has a gorgeously liberating sound, especially when it steps up from its folk understatements into a sound that marries everything from fairground lilts to kids’ TV themes to West Coast hippie dreamscapes.
The lyrics and sound match perfectly here: Cottam sings of moving on and starting again, while the music revels in the most infectious, innocent, addictive, and articulate pop sonics you have ever heard.
A serious story, a relatable narrative, an effortlessly lovable sense of liberation, all driven by the most joyful music possible. Nice!
