You can never escape your hometown. Every turn you make there seems to show a new musical legend, crawling and screaming as they haul themselves out of the woodwork to make some noise. After the rise in interest for the North East – in part thanks to Sam Fender revitalising the guitar music scene and dragging the Newcastle United logo around the world – the return of its patron rock saints was inevitable. Mark Knopfler is back with One Deep River and had they managed a better song than Fog on the Tyne, whatever iteration of Lindisfarne is still going would be on the tour circuit. But this river is shallow and filled with the repugnant, acidic tastes of nostalgia as a driving force. Knopfler is one of the greats (there is no questioning that) but these guitar moves are, at best, underwhelming.
These are the smooth and post-fame jitters of a man with a burning desire to create. There is no other reason for it much like there was little point to McCartney III than the itch Paul McCartney must scratch, in-studio recordings or otherwise. Very static and pedestrian-like listening from the man who brought us Sultans of Swing and Local Hero. This is not the deep river promised to long-standing Knopfler listeners but a puddle to stomp in. Jump in it once, experience the child-like thrill of being splashed with water as the early years of your memory spark again, the focus narrowed on those shots of carefree days. Bring it all back from that and return to the misery of your real lives, the sun shining and here you are, sat at a desk listening to a segment of Dire Straits dish out what he has been pigeonholed into doing, slick guitar sections as Steve Hackett was reduced to earlier this year on The Circus and the Nightwhale.
Spots of interest linger on Scavengers Yard. It is the same ultra-fixated localism Richard Hawley springs to life with and the impact it has on the work of Knopfler here is not lost, though is trampled on by the monotone vocal work. The likes of Tunnel 13 and Janine are surplus to requirement. Knopfler can and has done better than this. One Deep River does not push enough for its spot as a sharp guitarist heading into the studio. It sounds more like clutter. Trim the fat off this record and you have a solid extended play. Tiresome moments take over as Knopfler hopes to crack the sombre aesthetics of the late-stage Johnny Cash style, but instead of formidable covers and intense guitar work, he finds himself and his songs withering under the half-hearted light. Watch Me Gone is a stretch of simplicity benefitting from the exclamations of calming guitar work but its mood and the characteristics shining through across the album are nothing of intense interest.
Even with these placid tones, there are flickers of heartbreak from Knopfler. The twilight years of any artist are intense in their emotional clarity. This One’s Not Going To End Well has all the range and heartbreak of the best crooning around. Frankly macabre at times and the darker slots of this Knopfler piece are its most rewarding. A closing title track does little to add to this hefty, latter-half punch but it is a welcome return to striking works which close a chapter on the city Knopfler was brought up in. One Deep River may not have all the right sway and tone as it drifts through frankly forgettable works but it marks a fitting send-off for Knopfler who sounds as though he wishes to break from the Local Hero image – and bring about a tender, more truthful assessment of his career.
