The fabled Coronation Tap is a proper pub, whose aged floorboards are seasoned by more than two century’s worth of spilled cider and ale. Low ceilings, wood clad walls, and an unfeasible amount of pillars and creaking doors, that could seriously do with a good greasing, make this an unlikely home for live music. But what the Corrie Tap lacks in layout, it more than makes up for in commitment, having been graced by the presence of many a songsmith on Sunday afternoons, for as long as anyone can remember.
Recently it was the turn of Roger Tarry to gently subdue the chattering, and draw the disparate audience into a different collective state of mind. Accompanied by Toby Field on keys and Ben Goode on bass, he slipped silently and unnoticed up to the mic, and quietly introduced the band after picking up his guitar. Even his spoken voice lilts like a lullaby, giving the impression that he’s so laid back that he’s practically horizontal despite the fact he’s standing upright.
Exuding a quiet confidence that seems to free him of the need to seek external validation, he began playing, barely audible amid the babble. A less self-assured man would have attempted to compete, but Tarry unperturbed, allowed his music to float effortlessly out into the room.
As bewitching and imperceptible as a spell, his plaintive ballads initiated a subtle enchantment as they wafted like a scented breeze, inspiring a profound recollection, pacifying fractured hearts, encouraged by remembrance. And one by one the audience fell silent, captivated.
Although the themes of his songs are often melancholic, Tarry comes across as being a light-hearted and affable sort, who easily engages in jocular banter with his fellow musicians, enriching the set with another aspect of intimacy that is as telling as the lyrics. With such an obviously strong, almost familial, bond between these men, there’s a sense that you haven’t come to witness them play as much as participate in their world for a while.
It’s not hard to understand why so many believe that Roger Tarry sounds like Nick Drake or even Damien Rice (although the likelihood of Tarry writing a song in the vein of ‘Like A Woman Like A Man’ is about as probable as world peace). These comparisons may be accurate, but are lazy nevertheless.
There are more subtle influences informing his music that suggest a different intent. Tarry is simply sharing his creative endeavours, neither pleading with you to understand nor putting the world to rights. This changes the inflection, and makes listening to it an entirely different experience.
The result is more like the love-child of a union between the music of Kathryn Williams and Josh Ritter, who like Tarry, don’t shy away from hefty emotive themes, but seem to personally resolve the issues expressed via the process of bringing the music into being.
