The Warratahs – Burning Daylight (Southbound) (13th Floor Album Review)
Barry Saunders and The Warratahs have just released their new album, Burning Daylight, one that has The 13th Floor’s Robin Kearns thinking…here are his thoughts.
Playing the new album by Kiwi band The Warratahs, I ponder the name. It is, after all, an Australian flower after which a rugby franchise is named. But with one less ‘r a waratah is also a metal fence post, used as track markers in exposed places across our land. This, then, seems the right symbol in their name: resilient, marking a path, celebrating wide-open landscape. All of which pervade Burning Daylight.
Their debut album The Only Game in Town was released almost 40 years ago, spawning classics in the kiwi country canon like Maureen and Hands on My Heart. Now, The Warratahs are back with this fine collection of songs that speak to the classic themes of tragi-country: loss, yearning, and moving on. And a bit of weather in between. Some tracks feature the late Mike Knapp on drums; others, replacement drummer Caroline Easther (The Chills). That knowledge adds poignancy. An album of sadness yet resilience and transition.
Opener Going Up North has all the hallmarks of a road song: driving rhythm and an ambiguous destination as well as duration. In the same lane as Dave Dobbyn’s Blindman’s Bend, but more expansive. Nik Brown’s violin offers a plaintive tone and complements Barry Saunders’ richly toned vocals. Alan Norman’s accordion and a lai, lai, lai in the chorus has me thinking gumfields and the Dalmation legacy of the Far North.
There’s a quicker clip to The Right Time with a hint of honky-tonk piano. There’s no time like the right time and the right time is here to stay. A song of knowing when the time and place are right and doing what needs to be done. A simple but potent message. Sounds familiar from first listen, the hallmark of a strong song.
Little Victories is a slower, waltz-like almost. The more things change the more they stay the same. An ode to getting by and getting through. The autumn calling my name. Life moving on, progress in small steps. Caroline Easter’s harmonies layer into Alan Norman’s soulful organ playing,
Ruby Bay is a standout, saluting a location on the recently storm-battered top-of the- South. We stood out and watched the ships sailing to who knows where… . Saunders’ voice is the glue. As always. Big world comin’ in, I love the whisper of the wind. The band joining in as one voice. Violin, piano, waves of sound as if looking out to the whitecaps. We can almost see the gulls wheeling.
Down December is an intriguing narrative that meanders like a slow-paced river. Just enough reverb on the guitar to suggest somewhere unsettling as so many places off- the- beaten track are. Walking on Christmas Day…once you break the spell boy, it’s a long way home. Stones, water, dark times. Kiwi gothic almost.
And what’s a country album without a train song? We may have lost most of our long-distance passenger trains, but the band find one and board it on Silver Train. Brings back memories of student days riding the night train to Wellington. Saunders’ lilting voice upswings each time he sings so good, as if savouring this trip with his lockdown baby. A dream of romance, gratitude and riding the main trunk. A paean to lost rail heritage to sit alongside Anthonie Tonnon’s Old Images.
Going Up North is so good it’s given a second play as a spare acoustic track. Sleeping in my clothes/ staying ready for anywhere the wind blows.. The big ol’ highways, ramblers and gamblers. Americana tropes these may be, but references to the Desert Road and a yellow Corona keeps the song localised. Simple straight-ahead lyrics from Saunders, the Sam Hunt of song.
The Warratahs’ gigs are stuff of legends (one in Auckland’s sadly-closed Dogs Bollix comes to mind) so three live tracks are a bonus inclusion. The poignant Runaway Days is a wistful nod to the passage of time and older favourite Kupe’s Tears is jauntily driven along by a sharp backbeat. Norman’s piano is superb on Rescue Me. And throughout Saunders is in fine voice.
The set closes off with Storms at Sea. No lyrics; just loosely-strung guitar, ominously pitched chords and a worrying harmonica. A weather forecaster’s voice-over lists the marine areas familiar to RNZ National Radio listeners. Evocative as if celebrating our ultimate islandness.
Burning Daylight is crafted with a deep feeling for this land. Like the robust metal waratahs of their name, Barry Saunders and band offer markers, anchored in place and stretching across roads both familiar and less travelled. As Going Up North plays again, I can but hope that’s the direction The Warratahs travel soon.
ROBIN KEARNS
Burning Daylight is out now!
July 27 | Paekakariki Hall, Paekakariki – ticket information
August 2 | Cossie Club, Upper Hutt – ticket information
