Amongst the handful of important UK fingerpickers to have emerged in the ’60s and early ’70s, Dave Evans’ output is not the highest of profile, though his story is very interesting and his tight discography quite rewarding. His second LP Elephantasia, originally released by The Village Thing label in 1972, is getting a first-time reissue on LP, CD, and digital November 24 through Earth Recordings. Fans of Bert Jansch, Wizz Jones, Michael Chapman, Bill Fay, and Nick Drake do take note.
Dave Evans lived a busy, bohemian lifestyle before he ever released an album. A sailor in the merchant navy (rising to Third Mate), collegian (art school, in fact), operator of a folk club, pottery maker, guitar builder, and vintner, Evans, who was briefly married to Brit folk singer-guitarist Julie Felix (contributing songs to two of her albums), eventually moved to the English city of Bristol to reunite with college friend and fellow guitarist and singer Steve Tilston.
The story is that Evans’ playing on Tilston’s debut album from 1971, An Acoustic Confusion, impressed The Village Thing co-founder Ian A. Anderson enough that he was given the opportunity to cut a record of his own, which essentially meant playing in Anderson’s basement, where there was a Revox reel-to-reel machine and two microphones at the ready; The Words in Between was released later that year.
Evans’ discography can essentially be cleaved in two. The Words in Between and Elephantasia are the first half, with both albums placing roughly equal emphasis on Evans’ abilities as a singer and as a guitarist. Of the two, Elephantasia has a slightly more psychedelic atmosphere, giving it a very minor edge over The Words in Between.
“Only Blue” opens Elephantasia on a gorgeous note. The guitar is sturdy, the vocals are soaring, and the piano by Steve Swindells (from the obscure prog band Squidd and later of Pilot and Hawkwind) lends an extra layer of beauty, helping to elevate the track above standard folk norms. Even more outside the box is the title track that follows, an instrumental featuring multi-tracked string cascades that glisten like Washington Phillips’ manzarene but with an undercurrent of John Fahey.
The Brit folk fingerpicking ambience is considerable in “Lady Portia,” as Evans’ singing nods a bit toward Nick Drake but with a Welsh brogue (Evans was born in Bangor, Wales) lending distinctiveness across Elephantasia (as it did on its predecessor). “That’s My Way” is a jauntier tune, definitely nearer to the coffeehouse, and it’s followed by the hard-driving tension of “On the Run.” One might think the harmonica in the track is by John Sebastian, but no, it’s by fellow Tilston associate Keith Warmington.
Tracks like “On the Run” and “St. Agnes Park” suggest that if Evans had crossed the Atlantic a few years earlier for Greenwich Village (that locale reportedly the inspiration behind The Village Thing label’s name), he could’ve been a left-field signing to Elektra or Verve. Hell, he could’ve stayed put in the UK and might’ve landed on Vanguard like Bert Jansch. But by ’72 the folk boom was winding down (Elephantasia sold in the ballpark of 2,000 copies).
“Beauty Queen” is reminiscent of Jansch but with an undercurrent of psych-pop courtesy of Swindells’ subtly music hall-esque piano. “Ten Ton Tasha” is a second instrumental similar in execution to the title track, and then “Earth, Wind, Sun & Rain” is loaded with graceful fingerpicking and memorable lyrics well sung. The album’s closer “Take Me Easy” is a bit of a groover as Warmington returns on harmonica and Rodney Matthews (also of Squidd and the artist responsible for Elephantasia’s cover) gets heavy on the hand drums.
Evans’ third album, 1974’s Sad Pig Dance is an all instrumental fingerpicking fiesta released by Stefan Grossman and Ed Denson’s Kicking Mule Records. As a reissue, it would fit very nicely into the Tompkins Square catalog. And Evans’ final album, ’76’s Take a Bite Out of Life, alternates between more fingerpickers and vocal numbers that, with a few exceptions recalling his prime early stuff, take a decidedly mellower and less appealing avenue as his recording career came to a close (Evans passed in 2021).
But that final album is not what’s under review here. Elephantasia is a strong serving of late Brit folk and a wholly deserved reissue.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
