Peter Bruntnell

Bruntnell’s new album, Ends Of The Earth sees him re-united with producer Pete Smith and backed up by a band that includes the highly rated talents of his long term guitarist James Walbourne and Son Volt's Eric Heywood. His voice has never been better, while the songs are as deceptively sharp as always. Some, however, like the incendiary Tabloid Reporter are about as subtle as a drag queen's sequins. Written in response to the less savoury aspects of the red tops; it has grown from a hate filled ballad that was a big live favourite, to a foot to the floor rocker that takes no prisoners whatsoever. Elsewhere you'll find the monumental Here Come The Swells (a track that has been championed by Radio 2's Bob Harris), as well as the back porch delights of Downtown and title track Ends Of The Earth - songs which, despite their American feel, are, in terms of subject matter and bite just as British as a right hand drive.

Ends Of The Earth is available in the US on Backporch Records, and is released in the UK on 10th March 2003 by Loose (VJCD139).

Follow these links to buy Ends Of The Earth from amazon.com or amazon.co.uk, check out the tracklisting, or read what the people said.

"Back Porch is a subsidiary of Virgin, so this signing is big news for Peter Bruntnell, a downbeat family man currently residing in Devon, England, a backwater from which he seldom emerges, despite the numerous begging messages (mostly from the US) on his website.
Peter's previous album "Normal For Bridgwater" is a gem of a collector's item, and fans, had they been asked, would have requested more of the same. Peter has obliged, once more making a record which it's hard to believe isn't American, partly courtesy of the brilliant country electric guitar and lap steel playing of his prodigy sidekick James Walbourne. "Ends Of The Earth" hits you between the eyes with a cracking opener in the form of "Here Come The Swells". There's more than a tinge of menace in the lyrical content, and the musical setting is heavy, heavy. I'm not certain what this song is about, but it sure is scary.
Another standout is "Tabloid Reporter", a succinct and apt trashing of the UK gutter press. This song contains no less than two manic guitar solos, one of which contains the maddest use of empty space ever heard on record, You can just imagine the engineer yelling, "Yeah! Leave it in!"
Peter Bruntnell has a magnificent voice, a deep and mysterious personality and effortless writing ability."
Oliver Gray, Amplifier magazine US

ENDS OF THE EARTH
Back Porch (12789) & Loose Music (VJCD139)

1 Here Come The Swells
2 One Drink Away
3 City Star
4 Tabloid Reporter
5 Downtown
6 Intermission
7 Rio Tinto
8 Ends of the Earth
9 Laredo Kent
10 Black Aces
11 Murder in the Afternoon
12 Lonesome Charlie

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ENDS OF THE EARTH - REVIEWS

"The country's most promising singer-songwriter." The Independent

"Steeped in the honeyed hickory grit of Gram Parsons." UNCUT

"The most exquisite chord changes and hooks imaginable." Americana UK

"His most spiritual, most keenly felt album yet." LOGO

"Break the cycle, go out and buy this." - Rambles.net

"... a real windfall." - The Music Box

"The best thing to happen to alt country..." - MWE3

"Packed with tales of heartache..." - Blender

THE INDEPENDENT - ALBUM OF THE WEEK March 2003
Over the past eight years, Peter Bruntnell has been quietly building up a reputation as one of the country's most promising singer-songwriters, while sensibly manoeuvring his music away from the Britpop-tinged sound of early albums such as Cannibal and Camelot in Smithereens, towards the more understated alt.country tones of this album and its predecessor, the acclaimed Normal for Bridgwater.
Normal for Bridgwater helped to establish Bruntnell in the American market which, given his melancholy country rock and weary, weather-beaten drawl, is surely his natural domain, a second home as familiar to him as Kingston upon Thames, where he grew up playing in pubs and hoping to emulate After the Goldrush. Not surprisingly, a keen sense of place underpins his songs, several of them dealing obliquely with the emotional displacement resulting from what might be considered substitute roots. "Like coming from the wrong town/ Is sure to raise a frown/ Co-ordinates let you down", he observes in "Laredo Kent" (whose title may be an inverted pun on Paris, Texas); while "Ends of the Earth" employs long-haul travel as a metaphor for such longings, with lines such as "Wishes nose about out there like airplanes on the ground" evoking the frisson of freedom experienced in slipping between cultures, the open-ended possibilities afforded by peripatetic anonymity.
"City Star" and "Downtown", meanwhile, exhibit the ambivalence towards urban values that is country rock's fated position, simultaneously drawn by the good times and bright lights, but repelled by the wastefulness and frigid values.
With the young lead guitarist James Walbourne displaying an impressive picking style reminiscent of the late Clarence White, and Son Volt's Eric Heywood adding a glint of pedal steel guitar to some tracks, there's more than a hint of The Byrds about such songs as the venomous put-down "Tabloid Reporter" and especially the eco-anthem "Rio Tinto", where jangly guitars underscore imagery of leaded clouds, blackened fields and stained riverbeds.
Elsewhere, there's a more traditional country cast to "One Drink Away", a classic barfly weepie about being left behind by love ("I've got the heart, but I'm running out of time"), and "Murder in the Afternoon", an oddly dispassionate murder ballad set against a backdrop of lonely, plunking banjo, rain and bird noises, and the distant roll of thunder.
Perhaps the best track, however, is the opener "Here Come the Swells", in which an alienated loner is nettled by the cheeriness of passers-by: "I don't eat now, I don't sleep, I don't need anyone telling me what's fun." A cutting exercise in offhand misanthropy, it's the kind of idiosyncratic song that places Peter Bruntnell alongside David Gray and Tom McRae in the pantheon of new Brit singer songwriters.
Andy Gill
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UNCUT
For a man so steeped in the honeyed hickory grit of Gram Parsons, newcomers to Bruntnell could be forgiven for mistaking his English 'burb origins for Bakersfield, Ca. New Zealand-born, Surrey-raised and westward soul-bound, he finally drew acclaim with 2000's superb third LP, "Normal For Bridgwater".
Its follow-up is equally fine, studded with guitars (courtesy of 21-year-old James Walbourne and Son Volt's Eric Heywood), faint washes of piano, peals of steel and a forlorn, imagistic delivery and way around a melody reminiscent of Joe Pernice. He can spit bile too ("Tabloid Reporter"), while "Rio Tinto" would be a monster hit in a just world. A Nudie Suit short of perfection.
Rob Hughes
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AMERICANA UK - March 17th 2003
So Bruntnell finally comes home to roost on the label he was always destined for (is that a mixed metaphor?), and if this is the beginning of their work together, you have to wonder even already where’s left to go, because simply stated, “Ends of the Earth” is a stunning album, and without a doubt the best thing Bruntnell has ever come up with in his relatively unprolific career to date. Didn’t imagine he could follow up “Normal for Bridgwater” without compromising? Think again. “Ends of the Earth” barely treads any new ground at all, but at the same time still manages to throw up ten of the best tracks you’ll have heard in a long time. “Here Comes the Swells,” the album opener is a good introduction to what lies ahead - Bruntnell’s voice is his second finest asset, second only to his songwriting, and his tones carry the lyrics almost through the music, as though the two were infused and laden with the most exquisite chord changes and hooks imaginable. Indeed on songs like “Downtown” and the title track, Bruntell’s voice and subject matter (“Clockwatch days that never end, Cups of coffee filled and spent, Counted out to pay the rent, And billed by the hour”) is heartbreaking - both tracks are co-written with Bill Ritchie and the partnership works extraordinarily well, bringing into being some of Bruntnell’s best work and seamlessly sitting side by side with his own entirely self-penned material. “Tabloid Reporter” provides some wry respite to proceedings, but it’s hardly a relief as Bruntnell’s songs in themselves are so all engaging that you’re not in any hurry to get anywhere else. It’s difficult to see how he can better this next time, but then it was difficult last time, and by all accounts he’s managed it - and produced the finest album not just of his career but within the UK americana genre to date.
Outstanding.
http://www.americana-uk.com/html/reviews.html
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LOGO magazine
Peter Bruntnell is steeped in the flavour of dusty Americana to such an extent that it comes as a major surprise to many when they learn that he’s of Welsh parentage, now living in Devon. This fourth album will continue to feed the confusion; redolent of Tom Petty, or perhaps Eagles, leavened by a strain of melancholic songwriting familiar to devotees of Bruntnell’s close friend Jay Farrar (Uncle Tupelo / Son Volt). Perhaps it’s the distance, but Bruntnell seems to see into the heart of America clearer than most, wrapping his songs in a dark, rich blanket of variegated mood that unwittingly illustrates the transitory nature of life and love, making this his most spiritual, most keenly felt album yet.
LOGO Magazine
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RAMBLES.NET - September 2002
The advance copy of Ends of the Earth that I received was missing a front cover so I am not sure if Peter Bruntnell has written all the tracks, but he certainly delivers them from the heart. He sounds as if he really means every word that he sings and this adds greatly to the enjoyment of the CD.
"One Drink Away" has a beautiful intro that leads to an equally lovely song. The theme may be sad but it is just a lovely song that is well written and oh-so simply performed. "We got married in the month of May, separated by the month of July."
"Ends of The Earth" is another laidback song that is hypnotic in its soft delivery. "Laredo Kent" continues this album of poetry put to music as it tells a story of a visit to a town in a hoarse and very feeling voice.
My absolute favourite track is the final one. "Murder in the Afternoon" opens with a fantastic set of sound effects of birds, water and thunder. It becomes a short story set to music. The title gives a fair idea of the theme of this song but it still draws the listener in and builds a tension with words and music. As with all good stories I will not spoil the ending for the thousands that I hope will buy and enjoy this amazing album.
Peter Bruntell is a new name to me but I certainly want to hear more of his work. It reminds me at times of Nick Cave at his most lyrical and of the delivery of bands like the Eagles on their slower numbers.
As I have written so often before, this is one of those CDs I want to have played on a thousand radio shows to let the world know that there is a lot more great music out there than the play lists allows us to hear. Break the cycle, go out and buy this. If you like great words, sensitive delivery and accomplished playing you are on to a winner.
Nicky Rossiter
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THE MUSIC BOX - February 2003
Peter Bruntnell’s music should be classified as Americana — notwithstanding that he’s from England. On his second release Ends of the Earth, he recalls the sounds of Uncle Tupelo and Whiskeytown before both bands experienced Big Bangs that scattered their founders into the formation of the alt-country universe. Like his nearly perfect debut Normal for Bridgewater, Bruntnell’s knack for clever wordplay over trusty chords shines brightly on the new tracks Here Come the Swells and Tabloid Reporter. Unlike many of his country counterparts, Bruntnell’s work holds up particularly well over multiple listens — a good thing since you’ll be compelled to play this one again and again.
Examining the roots of America’s glorious rock heritage, Back Porch Records have released a fine 2002 CD by London-based, New Zealand bred singer-songwriter Peter Bruntnell. The press hype compares him to Tom Petty and late, great Nick Drake but it’s clear Bruntnell is carving his own genre and is off and running with Ends Of The Earth. There’s also a mid period Byrds feel going on as well, with Bruntnell sounding like a young Roger McGuinn. A key point here is Bruntnell’s fine band which features his own fine guitar work and some moody, reverb-soaked pedal steel guitar work from James Walbourne. The album is so well recorded and—with it’s mix of inspiring pop and rock tracks—it’s a real windfall for fans of modern pop music
T.J. Simon
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MWE3 - October 2002
A bit like Nick Drake fronting Son Volt or maybe just the softer side of Tom Petty, U.K.'s Peter Bruntnell is the best thing to happen to alt country in a long, long while. Bruntnell's Back Porch debut continues the sometimes darkly-tinged but always engaging, introspective mood set on his critically-acclaimed venture NORMAL FOR BRIDGWATER. Including a bevy of fan-favorite tunes, the album was recorded in London with Bruntnell's band - James Walbourne (guitar), Peter Noone (bass), Mick Clews (drums), and Eric Heywood (Son Volt, Alejandro Escovedo).
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BLENDER.COM
A Neil Young–loving singer-songwriter whose fourth album is packed with tales of heartache and pedal-steel guitar from Son Volt’s Eric Heywood, Peter Bruntnell is pretty much the definition of the American retro-rocker — apart from the fact that he comes from the London suburbs. That aside, this follow-up to Bruntnell’s acclaimed 1999 CD, Normal for Bridgwater, should be catnip to alt-country fans left out in the cold by Wilco’s newfound weirdness. In fact, opener “Here Come the Swells,” four-to-the-floor rocker “Rio Tinto” and the maudlin “One Drink Away” could all have been ripped from the pre-Summerteeth Jeff Tweedy songbook. At times, Bruntnell’s soft, almost whispered vocals beat out even Tweedy in the heartbreak stakes.
Clark Collis
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