Fran Ashcroft - A Tour Of British Duck Ponds
Brian Shea deep dives into the TLAK catalog to uncover hidden gems

I love the music of great British musical eccentrics - those with their foot on the path of nostalgia, artists steeped in the dour rain-fed glory of the great English past. Those who yearn for the days of Minnie Cauldwell in the snug in the Rovers Return and still take a brolly with them in the hottest, sunniest of weather because you can't be too careful, can you?
Yes, we who are blessed with the tear-in-the-eye pure melancholia, blessed with that gift, for that is what it is - a pure artistic gift. A gift of a pure mixture of yearning, heartache, soul, and romance. Those who can watch Brief Encounter and still be moved no matter how many times we have watched it, and have a begrudging admiration for Albert Finney as Arthur Seaton in Saturday Night Sunday Morning. We wish Britain was more The Penny Lane of The Beatles and the Waterloo Sunset of The Kinks, and not the Ghost Town of The Specials (although that song is magical but in a completely different way).
Why am I pontificating on the love for an England that really no longer exists, you may ask? That is because this wonderful album by Fran Ashcroft is an album steeped in that love and in that England that does still exist but only in song. Fran, one-time member of the seventies power pop band The Monos, who released 4 fine singles but sadly no album ever appeared (Think Like A Key... There is an idea for you), went on to become a successful producer working with a pre-Blur Damon Albarn and Lee Mavers in his shed amongst many, many more (I bet Fran has a tale or two to tell).
There has always been a richness, warmth, and uniqueness in a Fran Ashcroft production that I have long admired and can spot or hear even a mile off. That uniqueness and warmth can be heard in this quite wonderful album of pure Britishness - let's be honest, the title "A Tour Of British Duck Ponds" gives it away. The album is a wonderful collection of songs steeped in a wry bittersweet humour, inspired by the sights, sounds, and people Fran came across and wrote so beautifully about whilst out on tour of these duck ponds and the sad realization that the magical England of Ray Davies' "Village Green" no longer exists.
This is an album that should be in the record collection of anyone who is a fan of Martin Newell, Luke Haines (who Fran spookily has a shared vocal similarity with), and the lyrical genius of the already mentioned Ray Davies or the not mentioned at all Ian Dury, or any lovers of the beauty of DIY recording. "A Tour Of British Duck Ponds" in my mind is a bit of a great modern unheralded British musical classic - an album of simple downcast beauty but with a twinkle in its eye.