Phill Reynolds - A Ride (2022)

Italian singer Silva Martino Cantele returns under his moniker of Phill Reynolds with an album of beautifully yearning acoustic numbers.

There are singers that come in many guises. Silva Martino Cantele is one of them. As Phill Reynolds, we last heard from him around the beginning of last year on his album A Sudden Nowhere, before he returned again six months later with his power-punk band Hearts Apart. Following national interest in his stripped-back yet layered acoustic songs in light of his appearance on Italy’s X-Factor, he has returned once again to release an album of originals that transport him from his home country to the dust bowl landscapes of the midwest, drawing parallels with the likes of Timber Timbre as he trades on almost ghostly harmonics. The concept of the album is, he says, the story of the final three days of an American runaway, a redemption journey for a man once imprisoned for a crime he may never have committed, a fact we never learn. On A Ride, he presents the songs as a chronological voyage through dreams, epiphanies, drunken bar-crawl run-ins, and conversations with both Jesus and Lucifer as the protagonist attempts to make sense of his own past.

It’s the kind of gothic Western Americana that evokes images from the outset, the narrative beginning over the gently-plucked arpeggios of opening song, This Isn’t Me, the protagonist waking early on a cold morning. It’s a delicate introduction before the rhythm kicks up with a more defiant strumming. “I won’t feel the evil again. This isn’t me.” While Reynolds has not revealed the story behind the concept, it gives the impression that his main character is guilty of something never spoken of, the album beginning with a call for redemption.

Reynolds’ voice croons throughout the album’s eleven tracks, restrained at times, pained at others, yet the revelation, the sound that really draws you into the songs is drawn from the dexterity of his playing, magical cascades that complement the dreamlike qualities of his voice. Man In A Suitcase really highlights his technical skill, one that still retains the heartfelt emotion and eschews a more cerebral playing, but he knows perfectly how each song must be served, never loaded unnecessarily with adornment simply for the sake of it. It’s the restraint felt in songs like Run, Run Away and In The Dark that allow the other moments to shine. In the latter, it also enables him to push his vocals to the fore in parts.

While the majority of the album is basically Reynolds, solo, the one song that really kicks up the dustbowl with a full band arrangement is A Clockwork Dream. It adds an injection of energy to the middle of the album, seemingly representing the tussle between dark and light, damnation and salvation. It’d be interesting to see what Reynolds can do in the future if he takes this full band Gothic Americana to full fruition. As the album reaches its final third, it seems that our protagonist has accepted guilt and the fate that corresponds. The brooding instrumental A Glow Beneath The Abyss sucks us down into darkness before a light reveals in the following The Fault Is Mine. With added harmonica, it’s a song that recalls Springsteen when he strips things right back.

By the time he signs off with It Rains, Reynolds has taken us on a cinematic journey that deserves repeated listens. With the increased exposure in recent years in Italy, now is the moment for everyone else to get on board and join him for the ride.