Hurray for the Riff Raff

Fleeing from home at seventeen and hopping box cars across her native home of America, Alynda Lee Segarra eventually landed in New Orleans where she picked up a Banjo and joined the throngs of musicians on the French Quarter footpaths. Teaming with a rotating roster of locals, Hurray for the Riff Raff was formed. This, their self-titled Australian debut is not only uniquely beautiful in its own right, but one of the finest folk releases of 2011.

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When it comes to modern folk music, I struggle with a sub-conscious yearning for authenticity; some kind of search for a story and sound to evoke the desolate and embittered pleas of Townes Van Zandt, the laidback lurch of Neil Young or the simplicity of thought in Woody Guthrie. Yet the folk that hits the charts, as good as it may be, just doesn’t tend to feel genuine. From the glossy production of acts like Fleet Foxes to the modernised quirks of Laura Marling, what’s heard from the genre is almost exclusively a 21st century take made for the blogosphere and manufactured for mp3. But every now and then, amongst the bands using a banjo as a PR angle, the real deal arrives with not just the sonic authenticity, but the story to boot.

Formed in New Orleans at the behest of Alynda Lee Segarra (teenage runaway, boxcar jumper, angel-voiced outcast,) Hurray for the Riff Raff are that beacon of authenticity; embodying the sounds and sensations of the names that gave folk, country and Americana their intrigue. Whether it’s the sparse, lazy arrangement of I Know You or the involved band numbers like Is That You?, each recording found within is startlingly impressive. It’s a record that steeps its essence in emotion, as adept as evoking a reach for the sky as it does huddle you in a ball. From the southern charm of Segarra’s banjo to the creole accordion undertones, this is an album that stretches across the American folk trail from Oklahoma to New Orleans with a distinct evocation of the free-spirit. Daniella is the album’s most heart-broken and haunting, desperate accusations moaning under the shades of a lap steel. Meanwhile, Slow Walk is just about the single most beautiful lilt you will hear this year, fiddles sweeping across Segarra’s assured vocal, drums steel-brushed and battered.

The part where reality sets in though, is the fact that this self-titled release is an industry-driven introduction to non-US territories; a collection of their homeland recordings brought to the rest of the world. The sounds are cohesive enough, yet the production stylings of different records occasionally clash from track to track, the low-fi hiss of Sali’s Song and Meet Me in the Morning played against other slickly mastered tracks throughout the album...but there’s far too much to like here to not pay that price for this discovery.

The Australian debut of Hurray for the Riff Raff is absolutely stunning. It marks not only the introduction of Alynda Lee Segarra’s voice as a place sitter amongst your Laura Marling's, Cat Power's and Leslie Feist's, but the release of one of the most beautiful folk albums of the year. 

Hurray for the Riff Raff's self-titled debut is out now through Other Tongues.