The latest album from Stanley Brinks is out! Joined by two of The Kaniks, appearing here as The Old Time Kaniks, Brinks has penned two albums worth of tales of love, loss and drink.
Available on double vinyl (one green and one white record), double CD digipack with lyrics and music booklet, and as a digital download.
Bandcamp | Spotify | iTunes
“Pan European folk whimsy from Andre Herman Dune… these 26 songs sound like ancient folk shanties, but the wry lyrics (“I give all my money to Jim Beam and John Player/But I keep my good loving for you“) remind you these are thoroughly 21st century consturctions” Uncut [7/10]
“The master storyteller, the anti-folk, anti-king of European calypso has cut a wonderful disc of songs about drinking and songs about losing love and the late night malady in front of the dying embers of the night fire. This is a magical double album” NARC [4/5]
“Brinks’ playful mode of storytelling creates entrancing lyrics while the duo of a fiddle and banjo strips folk music back, resulting in an exciting album with a cohesive sense of identity” Cuckoo Review
“these are folk songs, sung in English and French, shot through lost love, found love and plenty of boozing” The Crack
“filled with the European calypso sounds he’s made his own with a generous helping of bluegrass throughout. It’s laid back, like long summer days down by the river, and filled with stories about booze, life on the road, love and heartache” Buzz [3/5]
“The songs are the typical Herman Dune fair in being easi-follow singalongs that even an idiot like me could holler along to. He basks in the sort of choruses that will have pubs of followers singing along and having a good time but oversteps the mark a bit on the otherwise enjoyable opener ‘Ten In the Morning’ where he begins to yodel. Otherwise this is enjoyably old timey campfire singalongs that I’m sure would sound rather good in an old style pub with a roaring fire and Stan and pals in the corner belting them out until way after closing time.” Norman Records
“It’s scary how infectious this tune is, despite minimal instrumentation, just offering string work to back up Brinks’ vocals. The old time sounds never seemed so refreshing.” Austin Town Hall
“a typically idiosyncratic offering; the lo-fi recording of the banjo takes you ear back to the early days of vaudevillian recordings, while the lyrics touch on the cab decorating choices of bus drivers, loves ability to overcome shyness and the dangers of not getting someone’s address; all in just over two minutes” For The Rabbits