Review: Martyn Joseph - Under Lemonade Skies

'Martyn wants to move heaven and earth', declares the biography on martynjoseph.com, before noting such critical acclaim as to 'make any publicist purr with pleasure'. Fortunate then that Martyn considers such praise only in an 'almost incidental kind of way', because, almost incidentally, I'm about to add to it.

In fact, such hyperbole should be forgiven about an artist who is so unfairly unfamiliar to many. Now 50, Penarth-born Joseph's first records were released in the mid-1980s; since then his career has taken in a major label contract, a collaboration with Tom Robinson and Steve Knightley and an anthem for last month's Ryder Cup, the first to be played in Wales. His latest accomplishment is Under Lemonade Skies, an accessible album with an unstuffy sound that delivers customary conviction, adorned by skillfully textured acoustic guitar that elevates this effort. Where previous releases have tended towards earnest tenacity and weighty angst, here a nuanced Joseph blends passion and compassion on an album of gentle profundity that is given room to breathe.

Indeed, the album launches in upbeat style on shimmering first song Always Will Be, ascending to open skies that cloud over a touch in the balmy melancholy of So Many Lies, before Joseph heads heavenward on track three. Faith is the staple subject of Joseph's work and threads through the album, his depth of conviction complemented by a lightness of touch. Joseph's expression and spirituality are subtly eloquent, elegant and never glib. His affirmations are intimate, mesmerising and laudably unhampered by clumsy evangelism.

The album's centrepiece - and what was its working title track - is Lonely Like America, a sprawling modern folk song of 'pioneers and racketeers', contrast and contradiction, an ode to a failed promised land. What follows is less distinct, including the overlong On My Way, saved by a vocal performance evoking Knopfler and Springsteen. By the end, some of the fizz has escaped but this is for the most part a sparkling record.

Review: Belshazzar's Feast - Find the Lady

It's a busy few months for instrumentalist and singer Paul Sartin of Bellowhead and Belshazzar's Feast - the duo's latest release follows hard upon Hedonism and two tours follow. Find the Lady is an intriguing album, produced by Jim Moray who belies his own albums' avant-gardism with a broadly conservative production here. Deprived of dancers and audience interplay, Sartin and Paul Hutchinson (who has his own side project in three-piece Hoover the Dog) exhibit their eminence sincerely on an accomplished album of (mostly) traditional music.

Sartin's ancestors' sang for the Hammond Brothers, song-collecting contacts of Cecil Sharp. One of these ballads - the stately Turtle Dove - is performed with particular gravity to an engaging arrangement, while the instrumental tunes are as absorbingly delivered (try the splendid Bloomsbury Market/Hypermarket). Moray and additional guests Jackie Oates and Pete Flood add subtle contributions to the well-orchestrated set, with Sartin alternating on fiddle and oboe to accompany Hutchinson's ever-present accordion.

There is thus much to muse about even before the interruption of knowingly silly Primus Hornpipe, featuring a succession of "guest" cloggers, à la The Intro and the Outro. Breaking the reverie for revelry is not a bad idea and I smiled in spite of myself at wryly wrought references (My Old Man, anyone?); such whimsy is later lacking from the promisingly titled Circle of Biscuits that alas proves rather more dull. Courtly Royal Flush / Elephant Stairs injects late élan ahead of the atmospheric, ambitious final track, a rendition of the evocative poem Home Lad, Home. Find the Lady perhaps wants for a bit of gristle - and I'm not sure the two Pauls quite manage to stamp their personality right through the record - but this is a well-balanced and affecting album of craftsmanship and enthusiasm.

Review: The Bees - Every Step's A Yes

OK, not folk. I know. Forgive me, for I cannot resist this band. Every Step's a Yes, the Isle of Wight based Bees' first release since early 2007, doesn't put a foot wrong. Produced by front man and multi-instrumentalist Paul Butler, this is an understated, mature, intimate album, more considered than predecessor Octopus with more saunter than swagger.

Immaculate opener I Really Need Love does hint at the Bees of old, sashaying jauntily beneath Butler's fervently yearning vocals, and the ambience is again suffused with a soulful, psychedelic sixties sound. However, this record is a mellow affair, more experimental in instrumentation than composition. The aim, says bassist Aaron Fletcher, was to create 'universal songs', but the result is nothing so bland. Effortlessly fluent throughout, a sophisticated succession of introspective, delicately written, brightly tranquil tracks is broken only by samba-infused, spirited rollick that closes the album and comes closest to emulating anarchic back catalogue cousins.

On Every Step's a Yes the band immediately find their groove and, being The Bees, are far too classy to let that groove become a rut. Winter Rose's riff and percussion are fabulously atmospheric, the emotional No More Excuses understatedly stirring and Pressure Makes me Lazy shimmers to a railway rhythm. It's a moreish medley that skips between styles and, although lacking instant infectiousness, offers unhurried, fuzzy warmth. Unpretentious and intrinsically cheering, no Bees album ever outstays its welcome: the latest effort is ephemeral bliss.

Review: Bellowhead - Hedonism

Hedonism is bombastic, brash and very definitely Bellowhead, as bold as the brass that blusters throughout. The main danger for the big band, who first formed to headline the inaugural Oxford Folk Festival in 2004 and have gained an unparalleled live reputation, has always been that studio recordings cannot contain or convey that stage presence. Fortunately producer John Leckie captures their riotous ebullience, as he did for Rodrigo y Gabriela: Hedonism delivers trademark theatrics and sense of circus, at times gloriously unchecked but always tightly performed. Spiers, Boden and co. are an ensemble of talent, well ensconced in their respective roles and playing with a zing in their step.

Unsurprisingly the eleven-piece outfit incorporates a range of influences, from the traditional storytelling of Killen and Carthy to the exuberant funk of Kool and the Gang via vaudeville and jazz, offering a satisfying set of stylistically shifting songs. To the casual listener, however, more subtle variations are swallowed by swelling big band sound. Aside from the punkish Little Sally Racket, which swaps between frantic, Pogues-esque self-destructing revelry and barbershop lullaby, Hedonism is a honed record that, for the most part, doesn't depart from tested Bellowhead formulae. There are changes of texture and tempo, especially as the album kicks on through the second side - but with a troupe of masterful musicians producing rich, inventive arrangements I wish Hedonism could conjure another trick or two.

There are more sober recordings in amongst the romps and rumpuses, most notably a cover of Jacques Brel's Amsterdam, a brave rendition emphasising the decay and debauchery that infests Hedonism. Themed around lechery and conquest, ringmaster Boden's lusty lead vocals are central, though it is a pity not to hear more from Rachael McShane. Nevertheless this record packs a punch and Bellowhead in full swing are still an unbounded delight.