Mark Fry was just 19 years old when he recorded his debut album in 1971, a set that stands today as a left-field psych-folk classic. More details on that album are below, but his latest release Not on the Radar is out May 16 on vinyl, compact disc, and digital through the Second Language label. Those who only know Fry from his debut might be surprised by how together he is across these 10 tracks. If not as gripping as his early stuff, Fry’s new one is still warm and satisfying as it thrives on a wide stylistic range.
For over 35 years, Mark Fry was known by a select number of record collector cognoscenti for Dreaming of Alice, a rare and extremely pricey LP in its original pressing released in 1972 by It, an Italian label with connections to RCA Records. Fry wrote the songs, sang them, and played guitar on a psych-folk excursion that was remarkably consistent and essentially lacking in cringe-worthy passages, a notable omission given the record’s proximity to the loner/outsider fringe.
Cut after Fry dropped out of art school, Dreaming of Alice garnered nothing in the way of immediate response, its cult status accruing incrementally and getting a significant boost with its first in a series of reissues in 2000. Fry’s second album emerged two years later, less a follow-up than a fresh start. Leaving the bent atmospheres of his debut behind, Shooting the Moon is an extremely coherent and orderly batch of singer-songwriter folk.
The change was admirable but ultimately lesser than Dreaming of Alice, a circumstance that was still preferable to an attempt to recapture or even extend from the bottled lightning of youthful vigor. Subsequent releases have sharpened Fry’s mature approach. Not on the Radar’s opener “Only Love” is gorgeous and reflective as it gently unfurls, a beauty move deepened in the next track “Big Red Sun” as the focus shifts from guitar to piano; a six-string does gradually emerge to deliver a sweet capper of a solo.
“Stormy Sunday” ups the tempo with a full band shuffle groove that’s subtly African and vaguely ’80s in its erudite singer-songwriter comportment. “Where the Water Meets the Land” brings a suitably atmospheric downshift with more graceful fingerpicking and a voice that remains sturdy but unblemished by age. However, Fry’s experience is on full display in the vocal swagger of the rhythmically focused title track, and then “Daybreak” brings another appealing twist with some smoky jazz club double bass backing.
Inching back toward the folky, “Where Would I Be” continues to exude a sophisto singer-songwriter edge. Comparisons have been made to Nick Drake and Kevin Ayers, but off in the distance is John Cale at his most accessible; yes indeed, Paris 1919. Now, Not on the Radar isn’t as masterful in its expressiveness as that album, but the association is still valid.
There’s a sincere worldliness on display throughout the LP, and during “Jamais À L’Heure” in particular, that resists easy comparison and raises the bar of quality. “Rainbow Days” is a spoken poetic nature call, and “If I Could” delivers one more grand contemplative sweep for the close. That Not on the Radar was the byproduct of live performances by a solid band is abundantly clear as the record unwinds. The songs form Fry’s strongest statement since returning to the scene.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
