H. Hawkline – Strange Uses Of Ox Gall

The first time I listened to H. Hawkline was upon discovering his debut album around this time last year. As its warm title suggests, ‘A Cup Of Salt’ invited me into Huw Evans’ solitary musical world, a psychedelic insight into the alliance between Evans and his acoustic guitar, often interplayed against samples, looped electric organs and occasional flutters of full-blown choirs.

A year later – and typical of Cardiff’s multifaceted music scene – Evans is now a core member of fellow Welsh band Islet, and has also expanded his own moniker of H. Hawkline to encompass a full-band set up, featuring the likes of Sweet Baboo and the beautifully-voiced Cate Le Bon. It is in this extension and more electric sound that listeners can uncover the biggest changes within H. Hawkline’s second album, ‘Strange Uses Of Ox Gall’, a cryptically titled record that gives way to the even eerier eccentricities it contains within.

While ‘A Cup Of Salt’ began with a frankly terrifying introduction of an old woman singing high-pitched and croakily, followed by a frenzy of chiming bells and cackled wailing, so does ‘…Ox Gall’ continue this trend by opening with the sounds of a creaking gate and child laughing on ‘Cofio’, sounds which are again reprised on central track ‘Giât’ and at the very end of the album. This use of everyday sounds is nothing new: indeed H. Hawkline’s recordings have always encompassed a natural sense of recording. Where older songs captured these glimpses into the ordinary with the sounds of footsteps and slamming doors, on ‘…Ox Gall’ this is demonstrated most effectively by samples of children counting and singing on closing track ‘It Takes A Lot Of Gall To Make Ink’, as well as intermittent bursts of laughter throughout. It is in this immense attention to detail that much of the album’s charm lies, and is one of the defining characteristics that ties H. Hawkline’s two very different records together.

The second transformation is the accumulation of more structured vocals and lyrics. While Evans’ debut focuses principally on acoustic-led guitar melodies, awash with organ lines and smatterings of rumbling bass lines, it was almost completely instrumental. It is in this vocal addition that even more personality can be discovered on ‘…Ox Gall’, principally through Evans’ whimsical portraits of love through his lyrics: “You say you love me but you don’t love yourself/ So how can you say you love anyone else” and “You’re like the leaves that are left in my cup, you tell me nothing,” on ‘You Say You Love Me.’ These lyrics and vocals are as much a part of the songs as the guitar parts – a far cry from his prior solo incarnation – and add depth and structure to his songs. Indeed ‘My Dreams’ could almost be a Beatles track, with its jovial group harmonies and gradual slow pace, whereas the repetition of “Time can fly, let sleeping dogs lie,” during ‘Two Ghosts At Sea’ showcases one of the album’s more conventional moments, and ‘Surf Pond’ adds colour and distinction with the inclusion of Evans’ falsetto vocals.

The beauty of H. Hawkline is Evans’ ability to sidestep any expectations of the direction in which his music will go. Each track mutates throughout, even though each song structure in centred round a single repetitive melody. Yet this repetition is far from monotonous. Take ‘Funny Bones’, one of the album’s defining tracks. Beginning with a soft duet with Le Bon, layered over electric guitar melodies and erratic piano notes, ‘Funny Bones’ completely transforms after a pause, throwing the song into waves of 70s psychedelic prog rock that makes it sounds like a completely altered song altogether. Then there’s ‘Mind How You Go’, which evokes more than a fleeting resemblance to electric-era Dylan, particularly with its accompanying accordion lines and waves of guitar feedback. It is this ability to simultaneously incite repetition with contrast and unpredictability that comes to epitomise the entirety of Evans’ music, and his marriage of different musical styles, paces and psychedelic touches are what makes H. Hawkline such an exciting prospect.

Although the staggering amount of repetition throughout ‘…Ox Gall’ may grow wearisome for some – particularly during moments such as ‘Big Red’, which encompasses two minutes of shouting “Burn your hands off/ Burn your feet off” – yet for those prepared to delve deeper and grant the album renewed listens there’s much rewarding material to be uncovered. Indeed Evans’ popularity is certainly growing, as demonstrated most clearly by the long queues snaking outside his venue during this month’s Swn festival. Hopefully with the new addition of his full band – both on record and during his live shows – as well as the recent sense of expansive direction for his music, H. Hawkline is a musical entity that is set to go even further, hopefully cementing Evans’ name and talent outside his native Welsh surroundings along the way.