There's a fine review of the Wild Swans album on the French Popnews website here. A rough translation follows:
"Could 2010 be The Wild Swans’ year?", we wrote – not without a hint of irony - in the "They’re Back" part of our review of the year in 2009. Back from the limbo in which they’d been floating for years, the Liverpool group had shown signs of being ready to spread their wings again [Translator’s note: there’s a play on words in the French here but it’s untranslatable] a few months earlier in the form of a superb double-sided single, "English Electric Lightning". Though almost obsolete, the format was obviously reminiscent of their main claim to fame, 1982’s "Revolutionary Spirit" which should’ve propelled them into the indie Premier League alongside their fellow-Scousers Echo and the Bunnymen and The Teardrop Explodes. Instead, though, The Wild Swans embarked upon an exemplary non-career, not releasing an album until 1988 and disappearing off the radar a few years later, to near-general indifference. The compilations of their tiny discography include one released by Warner [Translator’s note: this is actually a pirated compilation, not released by the real Warner Bros.] in the Philippines (they were popular over there, strangely enough, and they’re actually going to be playing there soon), so they somehow always seemed very far away.
OK, so we were a year out but that hardly matters with a group that’s been quiet for two decades, especially as The Coldest Winter in a Hundred Years is not of its time in any real sense; far more than a nostalgic record, it’s one which makes nostalgia its main subject matter. The title itself is the same as the ‘b’ side of "English Electric Lightning", a long, magnificent spoken-word track in which Paul Simpson droned out his memories of Liverpool in the early 1980s with a cast including Pete de Freitas of the Bunnymen, Julian Cope of The Teardrop Explodes, Pete Burns, the future Dead or Alive frontman and more. “Chloroform” features the singer’s grandfather and father, who fought in the First and Second World War respectively. As for “My Town”, the title and the chorus of “It’s over now, it’s over now” speak for themselves.
However, rather than wallowing, Simpson (the founder and only original member of the group) seems to be drawing new strength from these resurgences of the past. The parts of the blend which made “Revolutionary Spirit” such an extraordinary song – in spite of a botched mix – are all there, but it’s as though they’ve settled and become clearer, the haughty rush of youth giving way to the serenity of a man with nothing left to prove. The strong – even quite astonishing - melodies (“Liquid Mercury”, “In Secret”, “English Electric Lightning”, “When Time Stood Still”, etc.), the guitars which are proud and triumphant but somehow still manage to instil a sense of melancholy – as Maurice Deebank used to do with Felt - the backing vocals and airy keyboard parts, all prevent any pathos and bloating. Then obviously there’s Paul Simpson‘s voice, which has now been stripped of any new wave mannerisms, the lyricism more contained, but still just as lived-in, and it has never before been heard to such great effect. He believes that The Wild Swans have finally come up with their masterpiece. We’d certainly agree that, together with Peter Astor and The Feelies, they have certainly given us the worthiest comeback of the year.
"Could 2010 be The Wild Swans’ year?", we wrote – not without a hint of irony - in the "They’re Back" part of our review of the year in 2009. Back from the limbo in which they’d been floating for years, the Liverpool group had shown signs of being ready to spread their wings again [Translator’s note: there’s a play on words in the French here but it’s untranslatable] a few months earlier in the form of a superb double-sided single, "English Electric Lightning". Though almost obsolete, the format was obviously reminiscent of their main claim to fame, 1982’s "Revolutionary Spirit" which should’ve propelled them into the indie Premier League alongside their fellow-Scousers Echo and the Bunnymen and The Teardrop Explodes. Instead, though, The Wild Swans embarked upon an exemplary non-career, not releasing an album until 1988 and disappearing off the radar a few years later, to near-general indifference. The compilations of their tiny discography include one released by Warner [Translator’s note: this is actually a pirated compilation, not released by the real Warner Bros.] in the Philippines (they were popular over there, strangely enough, and they’re actually going to be playing there soon), so they somehow always seemed very far away.
OK, so we were a year out but that hardly matters with a group that’s been quiet for two decades, especially as The Coldest Winter in a Hundred Years is not of its time in any real sense; far more than a nostalgic record, it’s one which makes nostalgia its main subject matter. The title itself is the same as the ‘b’ side of "English Electric Lightning", a long, magnificent spoken-word track in which Paul Simpson droned out his memories of Liverpool in the early 1980s with a cast including Pete de Freitas of the Bunnymen, Julian Cope of The Teardrop Explodes, Pete Burns, the future Dead or Alive frontman and more. “Chloroform” features the singer’s grandfather and father, who fought in the First and Second World War respectively. As for “My Town”, the title and the chorus of “It’s over now, it’s over now” speak for themselves.
However, rather than wallowing, Simpson (the founder and only original member of the group) seems to be drawing new strength from these resurgences of the past. The parts of the blend which made “Revolutionary Spirit” such an extraordinary song – in spite of a botched mix – are all there, but it’s as though they’ve settled and become clearer, the haughty rush of youth giving way to the serenity of a man with nothing left to prove. The strong – even quite astonishing - melodies (“Liquid Mercury”, “In Secret”, “English Electric Lightning”, “When Time Stood Still”, etc.), the guitars which are proud and triumphant but somehow still manage to instil a sense of melancholy – as Maurice Deebank used to do with Felt - the backing vocals and airy keyboard parts, all prevent any pathos and bloating. Then obviously there’s Paul Simpson‘s voice, which has now been stripped of any new wave mannerisms, the lyricism more contained, but still just as lived-in, and it has never before been heard to such great effect. He believes that The Wild Swans have finally come up with their masterpiece. We’d certainly agree that, together with Peter Astor and The Feelies, they have certainly given us the worthiest comeback of the year.
