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Naturally

My best friend at university had grown up in Milan, among the Anglophone ex-pat community there, and, while ostensibly babysitting their younger offspring, he'd busied himself taping their record collections, thereby accumulating a veritable archive comprising hundreds of C90 cassettes. Across four of those tapes he'd recorded JJ Cale's first eight albums, and we often listened to one or more of those while engaged in our rambling post-pub conversations. 

I ended up buying Cale's ninth album Travel-Log on its release, which I loved, but, what with one thing and another, it was for many years the only music of his I owned. Happening upon a mid-'70s Dutch re-press of Naturally among the vinyl at St. Mary's St. Collectables in Chepstow a few years ago, I was delighted to renew my acquaintance with his debut LP.

Cale excelled in making music that sounded as relaxed and laid-back as it was possible to be without falling asleep. For me there is great warmth and comfort in it, even when the lyrics are sad and the blues come to the fore. I love the texture of his productions; his shuffling rhythms; his understated way with a guitar; and, though he reputedly didn't consider himself much of a singer, I love the sound of his voice too.

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