Samamidon - But This Chicken Proved False Hearted
[Birdwar Records]

With the folk movement officially in the midst of a regenerative vogue, it's no surprise there's a smorgasbord of new faces itching to humbly gun their way to the top of the pyramid. Names drop like testicles at a scout summer bivvy, and the line of people queuing up for a cameo circles the block more times than a lost paperboy. Luckily Thomas Bartlett and Sam Amidon put panning for nuggets of aural treasure ahead of their desire to carve out a name for themselves (having only pressed the backspace key to come up with their joint musical callsign), and the polished quirks that make up their debut release help give them a well-stirruped leg-up in the opening heat for King Lofi.

But This Chicken Proved False Hearted is a collection of other people's music – traditional American folk songs broken up with the odd pop reinterpretation – that the Harlem duo have guzzled, assimilated and ejected with the ballistic grace of a seasoned streetwise flobber. These recordings go well beyond throw-over covers, though, and Amidon and Bartlett defribillate their source material with a stoicism not seen since the Stuart Braithwaite/Aidan Moffat single-serving side project The Sick Anchors reinterpreted Atomic Kitten's Whole Again. Head Over Heels, Samamidon's anemic reassembly of the Tears For Fears original, is a dreamily sun-kissed warble that broods with a virtuoso subplot, lending the song an arcane brevity that the 1985 attempt never really picked up on. If Richard Kelly ever chances upon it while trying to regain his indie credentials, he'll no doubt kick himself for not having waited another five years to score Donnie Darko.

Apparently Björk's already a keen subscriber to the Samamidon wagon, and after a few listens it's easy to track the consensual ping pong of larceny between the two acts. The album as a whole displays the consistency of the Icelandic pixie's early full-lengths, and Amidon and his buddy cure the beef of their project with a professionally-fielded mischief that cakes your attention deep in between their layers of dusty reminiscence. That's not to say it's a 'novelty' album per se, and there's a pleasantly healthy spread of alt-country heartbreak to go round. Another Man Done Gone howls as softly as Adem defending himself on a Murder Ballad espionage charge, while the soaring succour of Tribulation sees Amidon's croon flanked with strings, keys and radar encryption, creating a boo-hoo-heauty that'd have even John Wayne getting sniffly. Folk like this made Marion hang up his pop-gun.

If the prospect of Cash-in-Hurt-mode reverie doesn't light your taper, the twosome break up their forty-one minutes of banjo springboards, ocean serenades and wives' tale A-sides with three electronic interludes that add to the dawn canyon cinema of their vocal pieces. This union of a well-tuned ear and a romping sense of adventure is not unlike the songwriting technique of Hot Chip, and on Rocky Island they release their sound into a spunky twang, something bursting with the pomp of a Bollywood linedance and enough spice to make a can of barbeque beans sweat. The fun factor helps dilute the wholesome folk cordial to a highly palletable concentration, and Amidon's delivery, cracked like a thawed glacier, turns what could easily have been a disaster into a masterpiece of Ola Podrida abracadabra that's healed with a salvo of heartwarming silliness. But This Chicken Proved False Hearted is undoubtedly as engaging a sonic experiment as any you'll hear this year.

Tracklisting:

01. False Hearted Chicken
02. We Are The True Born Sons Of Levi
03. Interlude
04. Head Over Heels
05. 1842
06. Interlude
07. Another Man Done Gone
08. Louis Collins
09. Interlude
10. Roll On John
11. Rocky Island
12. Tribulation
13. Oh Where Is My Little Darlin'