Man with a Love Song

Sophisticated and playful, the songs and tunes on this new album from Canadian ukulele sensation James Hill sound at times as if Oregon’s cosmopolitan big band Pink Martini have moved north of the border. The consummate ease with which he wields his uke is matched by a deep-rooted confidence in his songwriting ability. These qualities were honed from a young age, as Hill is a product of a concerted effort to open the eyes of Canadian schoolchildren to the delights of Hawaii’s pint-sized guitar. He has gone on to be a leading uke player and teacher, and on his 2009 collaboration with cellist Anne Davison, True Love Don’t Weep, he revealed a talent as a singer too. Davison joins Hill again on this album, and Hill swaps uke for banjo and piano at times to great effect.

This collection just breezes by – a mix of bluegrass, jazz, junkyard skiffle and brooding singer-songwriter rock-pop – with beautifully observed lyrics flitting between moody contemplation and wry humour. The backing vocals are delightful, the arrangements unexpectedly refreshing. Listening to ‘Soap and Water’ or the two-part closer ‘Voodoo Forever, Aloha’, reminds the listener of how fantastic dramatically creative music can be.

What Hill has achieved here is to take the uke beyond its usual territory, where it is either being frantically strummed in a self-consciously comic manner, or plucked with unnecessary gravitas in an effort to counteract its mirth-inducing reputation. Hill gives the uke its dignity back, but without ever taking himself – or the instrument – too seriously. The result is an album with a superb lightness of touch.