After discovering Bill-Ryder Jones when I lived up in Liverpool a few years back, there was instantly something that struck me about his down-tempo, wry charisma, his subtle sarcasm and ultimately, the delicacy and intricacy of his music. A man who, twenty years ago, signed up as a founding member and lead guitarist in the successful Merseyside band, The Coral, he has now moved onto his third solo album, West Kirby County Primary. This is an album that was released by Domino Records and tipped by many critics at The Guardian, The Line of Best Fit and NME to be one of the albums of the year.

His previous album, A Bad Wind Blows in My Heart released in 2013, took blends of his orchestral début, If… (2011) and combined the musicianship and the exquisite songwriting ability that Bill demonstrated here whilst also placing his masked, cigarette dulled vocals over the top. West Kirby Count Primary further develops this sound, taking the listener through the realms of Pixies fuelled 90s alternative-rock – see ‘Two To Birkenhead’, ‘Satellites’ or ‘Catherine and Huskisson’ via the slow, melodic ballads of ‘Tell Me You Don’t Love Me Watching’ and ‘Put It Down Before You Break It’. Back in November when this show was announced, tickets dropped and were snapped up by keen punters quickly, it seems I wasn’t the only one keen to see him take his intimate affair to the stone cobbles of the Green Door Store.

Staggering onstage in a lucid manner at around 9pm was Bill and his troubadours, instantly what was noticeable about the group’s presence was the relaxed, discernible charm about the way they approached the stage and set-up. Ryder-Jones politely greeted the crowd before starting, thanking them for coming down despite the fact there were big football matches on. The opening song, ‘Tell Me You Don’t Love Me Watching’ appears as the lead track on his latest record and from the off, the intimate curtain was set; Ryder-Jones’ subtle voice hovered precariously above gentle strokes of the guitar. It acted as a beautiful entrance song before collapsing into the heavier, grittier ‘Catherine and Huskisson’, a song that shows the new influences in Bill’s music, leaning on bigger guitar sounds that occasionally touch on the pulses of Pavement, Built To Spill and Teenage Fanclub. What songs like this show is how Bill has developed as a solo musician from his previous efforts, they prove his worth as a musician and as an ever moulding character. From the mid 90s when The Coral first emerged to his most recent solo effort, the sound has consistently developed and morphed into new veins.

The endearing factor about this affair was largely with the setting and how the pieces came together perfectly in terms of the band’s approach to it. They treat it like somebody’s front room and this really generated something special; the rock’n’roll antics that you are so often exposed to with bands desperate to climb some snake and ladder hierarchy was dismantled. The fact that Ryder-Jones struggled to put together a succinct ad-lib in between songs was the beautiful part of it. He caused widespread laughter in the crowd through onstage in-jokes and ironic comments suggesting: “We’ve got five songs left but that was our best song [‘Two To Birkenhead’] so if you’ve got a train, you might want to think about going now.” The show packed in accidents and issues, occasionally caused by clumsy footing such as stepping on leads but, these are the things that make gigs special because they veer on the side of calamity and issues rather than being polished spectacles. Bill was left alone onstage through the centrepiece of the set playing ‘By Morning I’ and ‘Put It Down Before You Break It’, songs that really emphasised the closeness between the receptive and cautious crowd and the man onstage. A timid crowd stepped back and allowed Bill to make the most of the quiet, sapping up his shy, cool whispers.

Stand out songs emerged as ‘Wild Swans’ in which you are taken through the ups and downs of a perfectly crafted acoustic ballad. Drums lay under the guitars whilst the lead guitarist of the band, Liam, outlined and exaggerates notes. ‘Satellites’ with its monumental guitar sounds, hammered with delay and reverb and ultimately, certainly to Bill Ryder-Jones and his band’s credit, ‘Two to Birkenhead’. ‘Two To Birkenhead’ was everything the recorded version promised-big, abrasive and noisy with its desperate and frustrated climax seeing Bill’s voice hit taut, strained notes – after this song, there was certainly more that begged for your attention, rightfully so, regardless of what Ryder-Jones told you as it closed.

Green Door Store was the only venue that would really suit Bill Ryder-Jones here in Brighton, this is not to say he isn’t worthy of larger ones, it’s just that the tight knit setting allowed for the intimate feel that Bill’s music plays so brilliantly to. After long being the lead guitarist with the high flying band The Coral, it was a setting that is worlds away from what he has previously been acclimated to, however it allows for his endearing charm and the fraternal spirit that he and his band share. With an endearing charm not just in his onstage antics but also with the touching sentiment he used to introduce songs, for example ‘Daniel’: “This one is dedicated and written for my little brother,” it was hard not fall in love with the gig as a set and also an example of how music like this should be played. There was no pretence or arrogance, it was a refreshing breeze of patience and honest, down to earth musicianship. Long may the intriguing, winding career of Bill Ryder-Jones continue.
Tom Churchill

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