Adrian Crowley

Adrian Crowley


Long Distance Swimmer

It’s not quite My Morning Jacket harnessing the acoustics of a Kentucky grain silo or The Knife channelling the spirit of Stockholm’s underground catacombs. But Irish songsmith Adrian Crowley’s fourth effort was recorded inside his very own quilted Abbey Road – a self-constructed castle of mattresses in his sister’s house while her Dalmatian dog watched on.

A barmy set-up, yes. But the product is a lo-furnished, snug, auburn-tinged folk album which calls to mind Bill Callahan, Johnny Cash and Edwyn Collins clinking Toby mugs in a country hotel. Most assured moment, rosy-cheeked folk-tail ‘These Ley Waters,’ sounds like a tumbler of brandy, lush, full-bodied, while the gorgeous Atlantic-depth of ‘Star Of The Harbour’ – where Crowley softly witters about how his bones will be “powdered and mixed with coral” (“the sea and in water in general is an influence” apparently) recalls fellow countryman Fionn Regan. Emphatically lovely.

Greg Cochrane