Review Summary: If you stop digging, it will bury you.
Digging a hole requires commitment. If the displaced earth is not flung with sufficient gusto, the payload can be minimised. Sand falls to occupy the vacated space. There is entropy and loss.
The Golden Dregs' Benjamin Woods clearly understands this. After losing his hospitality role during the pandemic, he ended up in his Cornwall hometown of Truro. Living with his parents, he took up a job in construction digging holes in the rain and building affordable housing in a place of empty, seasonal homes. This irony pervades his third album,
On Grace and Dignity.
Woods is the latest artist to represent the resurgent deep baritone; he sings as if he was an absentminded commuter, one step away from missing the bus but not trying especially hard to catch it. All around him are feathery acoustic guitars and affectionate sax embellishments, supporting and lifting him on his final, almost fatal step through the closing public transport doors. While the Golden Dregs is somewhat a one-man project, all through the record there are flashes of communal singing that go beyond that session feel. Often I find albums carried by literate lyrics, understated instrumentals and low key vocal performances lose their sparkle over the course of the runtime, but these murmured bolsters are like beams of gold breaking through gaps in the clouds; they lift the songs and drive home some of the point.
On Grace and Dignity does concern itself with kindness and loss, and some of that loss is the reality of where people live. Woods has been outspoken about some of the issues that the new democracy of tech does not consider or care about - how second homes and leveraging rentals changes the nature of places, for instance. While there is a case to be made that Luddite extremism holds us back more than it helps, we are seeing the downside of unchecked and unconsidered disruption more and more. A new critical re-evaluation of ethics looms, and it is something all of us will need participate in.
On Grace and Dignity is a sad album - death, loss and violence are part of it. But just like the lovingly created miniature version of Truro on the cover, there's lots of fondness revealed through the detail. When Woods calls out the triviality of British irritation with a lost holiday during the pandemic, he admits that he is his best self when he's in the sun. He has stated that he walked around the place he retreated to for hours, and this album formed in the drag. He didn't choose to go back, but doing so gave him a new perspective. It is difficult to write about something you don't care about -
On Grace and Dignity uncovers hidden beneficence of spirit. It is this positive, realistic actualisation that elevates us, as much as making up for lost time in the warm folds of a lagoon, or the illumination of our bodies in the dazzling echo of beach sand.
