My Review: Andrew Cushin - Waiting For The Rain

 Andrew Cushin - Waiting For The Rain

Heaton is a suburb of Newcastle, a neighborhood in this beautiful city in the north of England, where Andrew comes from, a conscious, bold talent, capable of bringing Pop into the Alternative zone, compressing the Blues and Country. After an intentional apprenticeship that led him to open for several important bands, he signed a contract with one of the Libertines' two main characters, Pete Doherty, and recorded songs with open wings, capable of getting his melodies to the center of the heart, through words that were really deep and mature given his young age. Scents of Paul Weller, Noel Gallagher and the wake of Northern Soul are the first obvious signs of where he came from. Then: the hard work of letting the membership of his emotions and dialectical avenue, allow for a portentous avalanche of thoughts as mouths smile and skin soaks up the sun. 

Seen in support of The Slow Readers Club, alone on stage harnessing a guitar that sounded like the primal echo of a child affirming the joy of being in the world, he seems to be a distant relative of himself: both identities are authentic and there is no doubt that the record sounds like the result of collective work, with a vibrant tension that is tamed by the romantic lines but who are unable to hide the tension because there is no better way to make everybody happy.

Within his wanderings, to scour characters dipped in oil and salt, he also finds an opportunity to write a touching lyric about alcoholism and in which the two protagonists are Father and Son. It is in this song that everything evaporates, loose in its maturity presenting the next song, in which melancholy and worry find momentum toward aspects filled with rays of light.

It strikes, it stuns, it caresses the history of the last thirty years of British music knowing how to anesthetize time, keeping the skin of joy polished, without abrasion. His magic is to have the ability to give space to different modes of expression: not only his semi-acoustic guitar, but the desire to cross different tracks that bring the train of his talent inside uninhabited areas.

Loneliness, choices, anxieties, dreams and enthusiasms are his horses, released into the prairie of his writing always aimed at not allowing misinterpretations. With skillful use of electronics he manages to visit the sky, with the electric guitar he finds simple but chill-inducing arpeggios, but, above all, with his voice he possesses us, enchanting, sowing sweetness even when his throat and soul burn.

Often he seems to use some tricks, in the singing, of Gallagher's older brother: that is, to give the impression that changes in register may seem predictable, but here comes the mummer, the invention to move the comparison inside the mud.

First simple episodes (with his singles) and then a sonic collectivity to make it all one big ship with songs that, thanks to effervescent production, make it clear that the concept is more in the sounds than in the lyrics, as his words are waves that cannot be commanded. 

A musical whole that does not live on moments that stand out: this young musician has glued in talent and is unable to make that wave, mentioned before, a rise and fall, evident is his pulse, his steadiness to make listening a compact experience, the time needed to dream while life asks to do the same, between the fire and wind of his pen, capable of precise and free writing.

The Old Scribe invites you to listen to the album by paying attention to the title: a dangerous metaphor, if not grasped: no point in hiding the fact that the rain is not waiting, but operative, because in reality it is nothing more than a dense river of drops of life that want to be seen and welcomed, picked up, to then spread within our needs. A quick record, with no ambitions to find the unforgettable song, much less the hit of a lifetime.

Rather: listen to the first one and move forward, without hesitation, since you are immediately aware that listening to these compositions is a gift coming from the far north of the island that needed this exciting artist. Remarkable is the feeling of warmth and freshness at the same time: the orchestrations, the short but impressive arrangements, give the sonic bundle a grip that does not cost effort: to listen to it all again is a necessary desire and not a feat...

Knowing how to take the songs into the heart of the 1990s (boybands included) is a subtle merit, as then, fear not, one realizes the artistic depth, commitment and qualities of it.

You whistle, you sing with your mouth open, and then when the music takes hold you feel safe, in that prairie where his horses run not happy but capable: and again Andrew proves mature and disorienting...  Seal, George Michael, Travis, Oasis, James, the Clash: all of them enter into the boy's expressive breaths, often with the mask on the skin of notes and chords, but well present, with theirs leaving trails of sound entirely recognizable, if only the ears reason...

But then, more than anything else, this debut work reveals how it is not age but experience, study and desire that allows these angelic compositions to take flight, accompanying the ride of those horses that will have fodder for eternity.

The 2023 debut album for Old Scribe: doubts cannot exist before these gems...

Alex Dematteis

Musicshockworld

Salford

4th October 2023

https://spotify.link/BKRobe7ACDb