One of the best discoveries for me over the last couple of years is Mark Wynn. Apparently he’s from York but looking at his tour schedule i’m not sure how much time he spends there, he is constantly on the road playing shows the length and breadth of the UK and often travelling pretty big distances between one show and the other and then back again. His latest, self released offering is Stories, Rags & Stomps, a 9 track country/blues album that is as good as anything i’ve heard all year. His previous album Lovers, Losers & Wasters is an album i have played hundreds of times and this carries on in very much the same vein.
Resembling a young, skinny Keith Richards, Mark writes songs with titles like Friday Night (fallin’ down), Wreckheads and World Can wait which come across like a direct response to his life on the road and the people he meets rather than a sad attempt to appear cool and showing how ‘rock n roll’ he is. A quite brilliant songwriter with a sharp eye for the easily overlooked he reminds me of a young Townes van Zandt, a certain vulnerability belies his incredible talent but he can you stop you dead in your tracks with many of his songs, I Don’t Mind, Factory Girls and the rather reflective Sad Stoned (fallin in the street) are all worthy of your full attention. With the amount of gigs and the variety of venues he plays you just know that many of the characters and the stories he sings about are true. Too many late nights and not enough early mornings i suppose are the key ingredients to writing songs as good as this. Not in it for the fame but like most musicians wouldn’t mind making an ok living from it, songwriters like Mark Wynn deserve to be heard now and not in twenty years time like the aforementioned Mr van Zandt and many others like him. Discover him today and be thankful that you did, there’s not many like him around.
You can buy his album(s) either as a digital download or as a cd for no more than the change in your pocket here and i urge you to do so. In the meantime here’s a little taster.
