For an artist pouring their heart and soul into an album, deadlines can stimulate, but they can also result in a rush-release that does the songs less credit than they deserve. For Ginger, alone and living in a caravan post breakup, the crackling creativity flowed freely on The Pessimist’s Companion, but the tight turnaround meant that the mix didn’t quite hit the spot. Now remixed, featuring additional songs and with a different running order, the albumgets its chance to shine, and shine it does. Clad in Chris Mars’ artwork and reissued through Stevie Van Zandt’s Wicked Cool Records, this fifteen track rerelease is a particular gem in Ginger’s storied catalogue and deserves to reach a much larger audience this time out.
It starts with the quite lovely Why Aye (Oh You), a poignant track laced with Beatles harmonies that tells of heartbreak, offset by a lingering sense of hope. It’s raw and utterly unaffected, following that old blues trope of turning the bitterest breakup into the sweetest melody. It’s a trick repeated often over the course of the album, from the gently countrified guitars of I Love You So Much I’m Leaving to the sparkling In Reverse, which sees Ginger’s voice laced in reverb as he offers up a gorgeous lullaby, all echoing noise and somnolent percussion. Similarly lost in the haze, the intro to You Will Let Me Out Again floats in the ether, only to emerge as a sprightlier number, all slide guitar and chunky chords. Even considering what’s gone before, the lush production of No Regrets slips over the listener like the waters of a warm bath. There’s a quality here, indefinable and yet affecting, that sees the songs envelop the listener, and it’s a strangely intimate experience, especially if listening to the album alone. It’s that quality that allows Detachment to burn brightly over its short run time, or the melancholy A Better Love to chart a similar path to Feeder’s Comfort In Sound, turning the most profound loss into the most beautiful piece of music.
At the heart of the album lies the title track, a five-minute piece that condenses the album’s myriad elements into one single outpouring and it’s easy to see why Ginger named the album for it. It’s followed by a very different piece – the throbbing somnambulance of Barbed Wire And Roses, an anthem for the doomed who find themselves contemplating the world at 4am. Few artists have so effectively captured those late night thoughts as Ginger does on this one song and, while it explodes into a gorgeous chorus that namechecks one of the Beach Boys’ most famous songs, you can imagine yourself walking down deserted streets as the music drifts from the speakers. In contrast, the rambunctious I Don’t Wanna Work On This Song No More recalls the frenetic outpourings of White Album-era Beatles, and it sees Ginger kicking out the jams, even if it is predominantly acoustic. Similarly, despite the country guitars doing their best to disguise the fact, I Wanna Be Yours channels The Buzzcocks with its punkish vibe and semi-spoken lyrics. Sweet Wanderlust keeps the album moving restlessly forward, although it’s the lilting melody of There Is A House that stops everything, Ginger’s voice emerging from the heart of a piece that is surprisingly claustrophobic. Arguably the closest track on the album to Wildhearts, Stalemate is one of those awesome songs that Ginger seems to be able to write in his sleep, seemingly oblivious to the fact that anyone else would sell a body part to be able to write anything half as catchy. It’s a brief, sugar-coated blast that provides the rush before the folk-infused May The Restless Find Peace closes things on an Oysterband trip, with its simple melody and deftly layered vocal.
With fifteen tracks that pass in the blink of an eye, The Pessimist’s Companion is an album that gives full reign to its creator’s restless muse. There’s exceptional beauty here, real joy and incredible sadness. Not that it’s a depressing album – far from it. Like any good practitioner of the blues, Ginger knows that the key is to sublimate sadness through music, bringing joy to the audience albeit from a place of genuine pain. It’s also an incredibly varied journey, taking in everything from folk to country via pop, punk and rock, with the result that it often feels like you’re sitting with Ginger in his caravan, checking out his record collection and mulling over past events. Few artists are willing to put so much of themselves into the public domain, through their music or otherwise, but for Ginger open heart surgery through the power of music is par for the course, and The Pessimist’s Companion remains one of his most hauntingly honest releases. 9/10
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