ARTiST: Luke Toms
TiTLE: The Forever House
LABEL: Island Records
GENRE: Indie
TiME: 43:58 min
SiZE: 62,3 MB
BiTRATE: VBRkbps
RiP DATE: Mar-13-2007
RELEASE DATE: 000-00-0000
WEBSiTE: www.luketoms.com
Track List:
01. Can't Let You Go 04:00
02. Another Day 04:03
03. Friends Reunited 03:56
04. Home Is Where You Go 04:08
05. Fools With Money 04:34
06. Estate Story 02:11
07. Knever Know 03:28
08. Hold This Thought 04:22
09. Peace By Myself 03:43
10. What's More Important 05:24
11. Hangover Blues 04:09
Release Notes:
As Myspace profiles go, it certainly makes a change
from people telling you they luv their mates and
want to meet fit birds who like havin a laff. Luke
TomsÆ homepage informs us that he was born in 1904,
raised by pheasants, faked his own death in 2005,
and currently resides in London, where he ôexplores
life and pre-war jazzö.ôYeah, thatÆs a load of
rubbish that I made up,ö explains Toms, perhaps
unnecessarily, tucking into a pork sandwich in a
central London restaurant. He cuts quite a dash, as
anyone whoÆs seen the hand-tinted picture of Toms
sporting a crown and a particularly splendid
moustache that adorns his Myspace page might expect.
Today, he has sadly declined to wear the crown, but
the moustache is still very much in evidence
(influenced equally by the stellar triumvirate of
Donald Sutherland, Hercule Poirot and Freddie
Mercury). Perhaps as compensation for the lack of
headgear, he has elected to spray his trainers with
car paint. ôCapri bronze,ö he notes. ôI got it from
Halfords.ö
If he wasnÆt actually raised by pheasants, Toms is
nevertheless unlike any other singer-songwriter in
Britain û as evidenced by everything from the colour
of his trainers to his keen appreciation of a
forgotten 1930s vocalist who suffered from warts on
the vocal chords and found his wife in bed with
another man on their wedding night. ôAl Bowlly,ö
smiles Toms of the latter. ôThe King. HeÆs an
absolute legend, his voice is unbelievable, so
beautiful. It has this hazy romance about it..ö
ItÆs no surprise to hear an artist proclaiming his
love for music previously considered verboten, and
Toms is no exception. You can hear all manner of
influences amongst the swirling orchestration of The
Forever House: the arrangements feature everything
from harpsichord to tuba to something Toms refers to
as a ôtrumpolinö (ôa cross between a trumpet and a
violin,ö he explains. ôI donÆt think thatÆs its real
name.ö). ThereÆs the sonic ghost of the Supertramp
and Elton John records his parents used to play.
There is the prog of Caravan and Focus that he loves
for its ôcomplete lack of musical rulesö and the
grandiloquence of celebrated moustache-wearer
Freddie Mercury: ôobviously amazing in every way,ö
notes Toms, ôa beautiful personö. But even today
some areas of musical history remain immune to
excavation and, it has to be said, the sound of Al
Bowlly is among them. Yet you can definitely detect
a hint of the man known as the Swoon Of The æ30s in
the unabashed romanticism that runs through The
Forever HouseÆs enticing blend of heart-tugging
ballads, trumpolin-sporting sunshine pop and
unexpected experimental flourishes. ôI got into that
whole pre-war jazz thing through my gran, really,ö
he explains. ôShe used to go to the Savoy and dance.
She asked me a while back, do you and your friends
meet up for cocktails before you go dancing? Well,
you know gran, sort of.ö
The evidence of his supremely confident debut album
might suggest otherwise, but the way Toms tells it,
he ended with a record deal as a solo artist almost
by accident: ôI initially intended to be a
songwriter for other people, but everyone else said
youÆve got to do it, so I didö. Then again, he says,
he believes in doing things the hard way. This is,
it should be noted, a man who scored the orchestral
parts of his album himself, using a 1910 textbook on
orchestration, which ôonly has a little bit in it
about the saxophone because the saxophone was a
really new instrument thenö. The unique, passionate,
soul-tinged voice you hear singing of hangovers and
the inherent divviness of a friendÆs taste in rich
men on The Forever House is the result of a rigorous
and self-imposed training regime. He taught himself
to sing and play the piano while studying for an HND
in popular music at his local college: ôI recorded
my voice every single day for two years. It was
completely soul destroying, but I didnÆt really get
on with singing teachers. I thought they were trying
to get me to sing in someone elseÆs voice.ö
Apart from a brief and unhappy brush with life
manning a rotisserie counter in a supermarket and a
period teaching at the very college where he had
studied (ôtrying to teach sound engineering and
composition to thirty sixteen-year-olds,ö he
shudders, before brightening: ô I used to tell the
ones who werenÆt interested to go off and do
something else, and I wrote and recorded a song with
the rest of them û Never Know, which is on the
albumö), Toms supported himself through higher
education and beyond by performing in local pubs. ôI
used to front soul bands, just try and give people a
bit of a show. I used to paint myself different
colours all over and just wore a pair of shorts. I
had a customised fake snow-lepoardskin jacket as
well.ö
Thus was TomsÆ enthusiasm for what he calls ôa bit
of dressing up, a bit of self-expressionö born. The
carefully-conceived cover of his album, which he
helpfully describes as ôhaving a meaning, which is
important, but itÆs not importantö, features Toms by
a castle moat, enjoying a picnic with his sister,
his bass player and a friend called Martha, clad in
ôa beautiful kind of art-deco suit with high-waisted
trousers, a panama hat and spatsö. He is currently
enamoured of taking to the stage conservatively
dressed for tea with Ronald Firbank. ôIÆve got my
array of suits. IÆve got a Harrow BoysÆ School
Sportsman Of The Year Blazer in red and white ,ö he
enthuses. ôIÆve got boaters, panama hats, flat caps,
several different kinds of braces, spats, boots. I
got them from the guy who does all the costumes for
the West End shows.ö
Toms says his musical apprenticeship instilled not
merely the importance of putting on a show for an
audience, but a degree of frugality that heÆs
currently finding hard to break. The photograph of
him sporting the crown û which also adorns a
business card that describes him as ôphilanthropist,
dandy and songwriterö and adds ôNew in Town. I Love
My Jobö û may look like the result of an expensive
session with a sympathetic snapper, but it was in
fact taken ôin a SainsburyÆs photobooth, with my mum
outside poking me and trying to make me laughö. He
has, he adds sadly, had little success in convincing
his current band to save money while on tour by
sleeping in his van, despite the fact that said
vehicle is equipped with tongue and groove flooring
and a futon.
ItÆs clear Toms feels every penny wasted on
accommodation could be put to better use
investigating the sonic properties of the trumpolin
or buying handmade spats. Luckily, while touring, he
has encountered others who agree with the pivotal
importance he places on cutting a sartorial dash.
After performing this summer at a festival in Devon,
he was approached by a representative of The
Handlebar Club, described on its website as having
been founded in 1947 to promote ôa hirsute appendage
of the upper lip with graspable extremitiesö. ôThis
guy came up to me and invited me to represent the UK
in the World Beard And Moustache Championships
2007,ö he says. ôIÆve got a year, so I need to let
it grow.ö His voice drops slightly and takes on a
slightly secretive tone. ôIÆm not sure that I want a
moustache that big to be honest with you,ö he
frowns. He pauses, as if worried that this
revelation somehow goes against his credo of
dandyism and giving the audience a show as unique as
his songs. ôEating candyfloss,ö he confides, ôis a
nightmare.ö
And with that last vital piece of information
imparted, heÆs off, in search of exotic instruments,
new songs and a decent pair of spats: a
philanthropist, dandy and songwriter like no other.