SIMON ROBERT GIBSON – NIGHTS GO ORIGINAL: REVIEW
SIMON ROBERT GIBSON
Nights Go Original (independent)
THE BROTHERS GIBSON, Simon and Adam, grew up by the water in Sydney’s east in the days before pace, prettiness and personal income defined locals – at least for those of us cast away elsewhere in this city. (“We are the beach children/We know the sands of time.”) And you can tell from a quick glance at a photo of them – skin well kissed by sun, hair coloured by more than living, eyes that look a little past you, as if constantly appraising the surf – that they remain saltwater people. (“I might be naïve/I hope that I am/I still feel like a small Bondi boy/Trapped inside a man.”)
It’s more than the almost discernible tang of brine though and the classic mid-century Bondi flats drawn on this album cover. More too than the local lyrical references or the clear roots in a working class respect for the value of imagination as much as sweat in a full life. That is, a respect for work, and humour, at the reading table after dark as well as when the boots are laced up on an early morning. (“Would Bukowski have drunk craft beers?”)
It is most evident in the rhythm of their conversational vocals, whether Adam’s in Aerial Maps or Simon’s in his quickly burgeoning solo catalogue, which are delivered with the measure and closeness of informal chat. And maybe too it is evident in the clear decision across Nights Go Original to look at the world and see a new sun rising rather than an old one setting, including finding something to love about awful airport coffee. (“Woke up this morning with light in my eyes/Sun on my back, my mum on my mind.”)
Ok, yes, it is easier to be open to optimism when you’re within earshot of the waves, or the lightly tapping guitar that opens Something To Write Home About and the album, but that doesn’t mean we all can’t perk up at the thought that “My heart and spirit are intact/And that’s something to write home about/And your soul will always shine”. That’s not the full ‘you wouldn’t be dead for quids’, but definitely in the territory of ‘beats the shit out of the alternative’ don’t you reckon?
A professed fan of the likes of Grant McLennan and Robert Forster, Paul Kelly and Mick Thomas – who sometimes get namechecked to reinforce what we can hear in the songs already, like the bap-ba-babapa backing vocals regularly deployed – Gibson can’t help but throw pop flavours those blokes would appreciate at his already melody-driven songs. It might be Jeff Crawley’s trumpet pitched between wistful and hopeful in several songs, a singular but modest guitar line paired with organ in I Think I Know How, the splash on the drums and dancing in the rain rhythm of in Are We There Yet? or the way the rhythm guitar is the sole force of momentum through Laced My Boots. ("May all your steps be blessed by song.")
Or he might borrow that pop as with a nonchalant take on Put The Message In The Box that gives Karl Wallinger’s positivity an extra layer of coastal warmth in the acoustic and relaxed buoyancy in the tempo. Or not hiding the absence at the heart of One Perfect Day but bringing a sweet reflectiveness (and echoey drums) to the minor gem Little Heroes gave us 40 years ago.
This is a small record, one that doesn’t hide its flaws nor claim a place above its station. But it is a small record that says there’s nothing wrong with that either, and maybe connection is all the better for it. And you don't need a beach for that.(“My happiness seems to grow/What happens next I really don’t know.”)
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APPLE MUSIC: Listen to Simon Robert Gibson – Nights Go Original
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