DIY storyteller, Benjamin Shaw,
makes his debut with
‘I Got the Pox, the Pox is What I Got '.
At its root, a simple collection of very visual
acoustic songs, but the album grows in layers;
keys, percussion, screeching harmonies; claps, thuds, kettles, kittens
and creaking doors all wash over this intimate and desolate lo-fi
record.
Musically vast and sonically awesome, Benjamin Shaw is far beyond the (now derogatory) term –
“Singer Songwriter”. He recalls the most essential works of Neil
Young, 'Vivadixie..' era Sparklehorse and even the early charms of
a drunken Tom Waits – but brings so much of himself to his work that
it's wrong to uncharitably suggest sound-alike's and influences,
Benjamin is one of a kind.
His
concept of narrative and sense of bleak humour develop involving and
fascinating stories, ones that truly deserve to be carried by the
fighting frailty of his voice.
Benjamin's
bitter bedroom recordings, swamped with fuzz, buzz and distortion, are
a real shot in the arm for the sterile swarm that are today's
singer-songwriters. Artistic, ambitious, original and pure – there's
been no one like Benjamin Shaw on the scene for far too long.
