How thrilling it must be to find treasure when you’re not looking for it. To throw a stone into a cave and emerge with the Dead Sea Scrolls, to be digging a well and find a Terracotta Army, to press play on an EP and discover magic.
The name, Spitzer Space Telescope, hardly sounds promising. It sounds shoegaze-y, or space-rock-y, it doesn’t sound as though you are about to discover boisterous, Irish trad-ballads, or foot stomping work songs or dark American folk pitched against the devil-scratch of an old fiddle. That, though, is the beauty of finding riches when you were barely looking, I suppose.
This is the second Spitzer Space Telescope EP, although Dan MacDonald has been doing his thing for quite a while (as part of Spitzer & Mareva, Old Lazarus’ Harp and as a professional graphic artist). There are YouTube videos of a couple of these songs dating back more than ten years but, now, he’s found a home on the incomparable Broadside Hacks. It’s the perfect fit.
Midwest Tribute Song is one of those that has been kicking about in the dustiest corners of the internet for a while. It’s a working song, a land-based sea shanty full of the thump of hob-nailed boots and an acapella shout. You can see the clouds of dust billowing up with each stamp, feel it in your throat and in your eyes. It’s honest and earthy, heartfelt and rich. MacDonald’s voice effortlessly carries the unaccompanied tune, echoing through the ages, calling across the sweeping plains. It is the first piece of treasure unearthed here, the first golden coin before the hoard is uncovered.
The second piece of gold is Roving Is Me Pleasure and, if track one is a simple coin, then track two is something a bit more ornate. Utter pleasure radiates from MacDonald, thrashing at a banjo at breakneck speed, he sings as though the sheriff’s men are closing in, about to arrest him. Here’s the rambunctious Irish-ness, filtered through a glass of Rye, the wild joy of simplicity and a spring-heeled tear-up.
Many of these are the sort of songs that will have you scurrying to Mainly Norfolk, scouring the Roud index. You’ll be certain that they should be there but, while the themes and syntax feel traditional, you won’t find them. They’re not there. These are McDonald originals. Hard Luck Johnny is one such. Mandolin, drones and fiddle are laid down on a distorting tape, a reel-to-reel fuzziness, layers of ancient grime burying this song that feels old, old.
A little slice of American folk is never complete without something that has a Dylan-esque flavour to it. Field of Men is a dark singalong strummer; it creaks but never falls. MacDonald’s voice is right on the edge, controlled but teetering, a high-wire act that makes the whole. It is brilliant; the sort of song that should be immediately added to the canon, that should immediately be sung in every coffee-house, every peat-fuelled snug, in the land.
Finally, Lazarus Harp is another piece of the golden hoard that adds to this magical treasure trove. It’s a manic hoe-down with MacDonald shouting from the corner of a dark-wood bar, struggling to be heard over Old Nick’s fiddle that’s whipping up a storm in front of him. It’s urgent and unhinged, sometimes sounding a bit like the dark Americana of The Mekons or 16 Horsepower. The wash-board and mandolin scratching away at a wholly homemade exultation.
The fact that, sometimes, treasure appears when you least expect it is a reason to rejoice, to sing from the rafters. The fact that this glorious piece of American folk has arrived, delivered by a band named after an infrared space telescope, deserves all of the rejoicing, all of the singing, every rafter to be cleared. Don’t be fooled by the name, discover the treasure.
Spitzer Space Telescope II is released 28th March.
