Keepsakes

With cover art picturing keepsakes sent in by fans – an old travelcard, an old tooth, an old mixtape – Sam Carter’s debut is stuffed with the familiars and totems of private lives set against a sharply drawn, contemporary backdrop. As a lyricist, the young guitarist and singer from the Midlands has a narrative drive and spareness of detail that keeps the songs focused and vivid. The opener, ‘Yellow Sign’, sparks off an episode of domestic violence played out in the doorway of a public bar – ‘ there was some other man she hit on, new she’s barely alive’ – and takes us through the aftermath. The songs are novellas in clipped form and, with the album clocking in at just over half an hour, it’s a stock-in-trade.

Carter has been the Southbank Centre’s ‘emerging artist in residence’ this year. He’s also studied guitar with one of the masters – Martin Simpson – and toured with Bellowhead: the playing of their violinist Sam Sweeney features strongly on Keepsakes. Carter has honed a brilliantly assured fingerpicking style, matched by an emotive keen of a voice that can recall Thom Yorke’s mournful tenor. There is one traditional folk song here – ‘Oh Dear, Rue The Day’ In its story, the man (for a change) is left holding the baby and it’s ‘none of his own’ to boot. But Carter’s own songwriting contains the strong, sinewy narrative and bright flash of imagery that marks it out as a valuable extension of the folk tradition.