Adelaide’s Cape ‘Harbour’

Sometimes, not very often admittedly, something very good indeed lands right on your doorstep. In this case, quite literally. The flaking blue paint of the scrabby garage doors in the Adelaide’s Cape photo? They belong to my next door neighbour.

Until recently, Sam Taylor, the one with the hood, lived in my ‘hood. Together with Hannah Richardson, they are the Cape and they’ve recently upped sticks and relocated to Bath for educational purposes.

It’s not so much that my street is suddenly a hotbed of musical wonderfulness, more likely that Norwich is very quickly galloping into view when it comes to turning up bands deserving of attention beyond The Fine City’s borders.

If we did have to stick our neck out, heaven forbid, we’d say that Adelaide’s Cape are going to be enjoying the lion’s share of such attention in good time.

And nope, it’s not about what people look like, not ever never, but heck, have a look at these two will you? Tell me you don’t want to put Sam and Han in your pocket and keep them for yourself and I will foot the optician bill myself. One look and you hope, pray, they’re good. You really want them to be something to write home about.

Mum, Dad, there’s this band…

It sounds like you’re patting a small boy on the head when you describe music as charming, but Adelaide’s Cape are nothing less. It’s as simple as songwriting comes, and just about twice as wonderful. It all sounds so effortless as Sam’s lazy vocal drifts in and out, like the gentle breath of something grouchy sleeping, while Hannah’s voice is the butter to Sam’s toast, as delicate as a daisy, halfway between indie and folkie, it’s the sort of voice Moshi Moshi would join a queue for.

The nice thing is, beyond hanging their coat on the peg marked ‘post folk’, it’s difficult to draw comparisons. Not saying they don’t have a certain Nick Drake spring in their step (face it, who doesn’t?), but what else is in there? Influences, they say on their MS, include Chris Wood, Idlewild, Johnny Flynn, Bellowhead, Mumford & Sons…

Might just be me, and I’m by no means a muso, but Sam plays a Fender FR-50 Resonator (off of Dire Straight’s ‘Brothers In Arms’ album, but don’t hold that against it), which tends to suggest here’s a boy who understands a thing or two.

Using a metal ‘resonator’ instead of the traditional wooden soundboard made the guitar sound louder, which was pretty handy when you were sat alongside the brass in the increasingly popular dance bands of the 1920s. The resonator’s distinctive, bright metallic sound soon made it the weapon of choice for blues and bluegrass musicians long after some bright spark invented amplification.

It’s a sound synonymous with the Deep South, with the music that started everything. And here’s a duo from Norfolk wielding one. Bodes well. Bodes very well.

More hear…
- Treat yourself to a visit of their MS .
- Grab their debut single, ‘Harbour’/'Curled’, for free from rawrip.com.
- Read some more in the November issue of BBC Norfolk Introducing magazine, VoluME.