The Brit folk scene of the late ‘60s/early ‘70s was a deeper happening than a casual observer might suppose, and prime evidence is offered by the duo of Judy Dyble and Jackie McAuley. Borrowing John Peel’s nickname for his nanny, they called themselves Trader Horne and in 1970 cut a terrific LP for Pye Records’ underground subsidiary Dawn.
At a glance it would seem that Judy Dyble is uncommonly familiar with the precipice of fame. To begin, she was replaced in Fairport Convention by Sandy Denny before the group broke big (in context). But if overshadowed her contribution was far from negligible; there’s the sunshiny psych-folk of the debut single’s “If I Had a Ribbon Bow” plus two Joni Mitchell interpretations, “I Don’t Know Where I Stand” and “Chelsea Morning,” strengthening the eponymous first album. She also co-wrote the nifty instrumental “Portfolio” with Ashley Hutchings.
She’s further noted as a pioneer in multitasking, knitting scarves and dishcloths onstage while her bandmates took flight. Shortly thereafter she was out of the Fairport picture, and it was around this point that she guested on The Incredible String Band’s The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter, lending her voice to “The Minotaur’s Song.”
Dyble’s second dalliance with wide recognition came in the prelude to King Crimson, specifically as a contributor to Giles, Giles, & Fripp. A handful of tracks on The Brondesbury Tapes carry her mark, most notably “I Talk to the Wind,” the alternative to Greg Lake additionally collected on A Young Person’s Guide to King Crimson. Just as interesting but significantly less retrospectively cited is her brief spot on “Ashes of the Empire/The End” from G.F. Fitz-Gerald’s Mouseproof.
But Trader Horne isn’t a one-person show. As a teen Jackie McAuley made the impactful acquaintance of a visiting Gene Vincent but his first major credit was the organ seat in Them circa 1965. His brother Pat was the drummer in the band and the gig’s prompt derailing resulted in two rival acts employing the same moniker. The McAuley’s Van Morrison-less Them morphed into The Belfast Gypsies; they waxed a few palatable 45s and one LP released on Sonet under the slyly opportunistic handle Them Belfast Gypsies.
McAuley may read as an odd fit for a Brit-folk situation, but as an Irishman he grew up in the midst of trad stuff; his love of US blues/R&B emerged later. And Morning Way ultimately benefits from its creator’s breadth of interest. “Jenny Mae” opens the record as Dyble’s harmonizing elevates McAuley’s warm lead and fleet coffeehouse fingerpicking. Deft accents of bowed strings, vibes, and hand percussion follow.
“Children of Oare” is a strummer with flutes riffing upon “We Three Kings of Orient Are” as non-disruptive layers of preexisting sounds underscore the experimental. A smartly constructed effort down to the interjected fragments of McAuley’s piano between the tunes, there are also unsurprising moments on Morning Way; “Three Rings for Eleven Kings” features harpsichord, flute and assumedly recorder by Dyble and exudes a definite Ren Faire vibe (apparently the title has something to do with Tolkien).
The courtly air continues in “Growing Man,” but “Down and Out Blues” (which many will recognize as “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out”) delivers an early highlight, Dyble sauntering up to the mic stand like a hootenanny queen as McAuley wields his acoustic with authority. Adding a discerning wrinkle, Ray Elliot’s flute is as reminiscent of the Five Spot as the Gaslight.
“The Mixed up Kind” resonates as an attractively-odd slice of folk-pop largely due to its brilliantly-hued vocal duet; prior reissues have surely slain New Weird fans as the whole gets nicely enhanced by additional harpsichord and cathedral organ. Next, “Better than Today” extends the pop angle into fledgling singer-songwriter territory, McAuley the author of all but three of the entries here.
There are inherent folky traits (and progressive undercurrents) in Dyble’s work, however; the quality is even retained in the rainy day baroque (and unexpected bass-clarinet flourishes) of “In My Loneliness.” It’s followed by McAuley’s Morning Way standout, the pleasant singer-songwriter buoyancy of “Sheena,” an unabashedly crowd-rousing number capped with a truly gorgeous string arrangement.
“The Mutant” leads us into eclectic climes; it’s a bit similar to Traffic (or the embryonic Crimson) attempting a very loose late-night piano bar rewrite of “Tales of Brave Ulysses” as Roland Kirk drops by to throw a little flute zest into the recipe. The turn for the unusual is maintained in Dyble’s shape changing composition “Morning Way,” though it tidily settles into an anthemic tandem-sing accompanied by piano that’s mildly redolent of McCartney’s material from the period.
“Velvet to Atone” was co-written by Dyble with Martin Quittendon (of “Maggie May”), and it’s a fine showcase for her pipes and McAuley’s keyboard. Closing the LP’s sequence is an expansive blend of baroque organ and nature-folk joie de vivre, “Like that Never Was” utilizing yearning voices, a rattling tambourine, and a whole lot of strum, a quite pretty way to conclude the platter.
In a classy twist both sides of Trader Horne’s second single (Pye had previously matched “Sheena” with “Morning Way”) are included on the vinyl download and placed at the end of the CD. Both are worth the trouble; “Here Comes the Rain” hits like a slightly less eccentric Kevin Ayers from around Joy of a Toy, and “Goodbye Mercy Kelly” is a bit of Dylanesque business worthy of a b-side.
Shortly after Trader Horne’s dissolution Dawn released Jackie McAuley’s self-titled solo album to a lack of hubbub. He subsequently became a sideman to the king of skiffle Lonnie Donegan, an in-demand session guy and the instigator of Celtic rock outfit Poor Mouth. Dyble took a long hiatus but eventually returned to music with 2004’s Enchanted Garden.
She’s completed five since, and earlier this year the 3CD set Gathering the Threads (Fifty Years of Stuff) appeared, the first disc of which gets a vinyl pressing by Earth Recordings next month. The sounds she made with McAuley have been labeled as Brit-folk but in the end they transcend the tag; fairy-dust is present but preciousness is avoided. The playing on Morning Way is superb, the landscape multifaceted and the results still enticing 45 years later.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
