Boris (Titulaer) is a Dutch soul singer who owes much of his fame to winning the local version of Pop Idol in 2002. He's got a perfectly good voice for his chosen style, but there's no point in pretending that 2006's Holy Pleasure even remotely matches his antecedents; it's a pretty perfunctory pop/soul/funk album that says nothing new whatsoever. In fairness, less appalling tracks include Those Things You Do, the harpsichord-driven (!) Break Free and closer Waiting, although Girl is particularly obnoxious, just to balance the books. Mellotron-wise, we get a nice (sampled) flute part on the balladic Beautiful Day from Blair Mackichan, but it does little to make up for the horrors of the bulk of the album. Titulaer followed up with 2009's Live My Life, a more varied and therefore less irritating album, as he tackling reggae (One World), Clavinet funk (Loosen Up) and blues (I'm Sorry), none of which are enough to actually make it, y'know, any good. Once again, as if to make up for the album's better features, its one credited Mellotron track (from Anthony Tolsma this time), Loosen Up, is apparently tape-replay-free, unless the occasional flutey thing's what we're after, so 'samples' it is.
Boris (not to be confused with any other Boris) are a noted prolific Japanese psych/drone/electronica/etc. outfit, whose seventeenth album (and third release of the year), 2011's Attention Please, features a bewildering array of psych-related styles, from the breathy motorik feedback of the opening title track through the psych-metal of Hope and Party Boy to the trippy dronefests of You and closer Hand In Hand. But is it any good? I hear you ask. Er, s'pose so, yeah, although at forty-odd minutes it's a good ten minutes too long for the ideas contained therein. That's what happens when you spit out three albums a year, I suppose. Wata plays fakeotron strings on Hope, which makes me wonder just how authentic his Mellotron use is on his collaboration with Ai Aso. Anyway, one for psychonauts everywhere, although how you choose which of Boris' multifarious releases to start with is beyond me. This one?
Philadelphia's Boris Garcia are a band, as you might've guessed, given that they're filed under 'B'. Essentially a folk outfit, Once More Into the Bliss (their second?) sees them shift between several related styles, at its best on the splendid Lover Tonight, River Man (Fairport Convention/Richard Thompson's Crazy Man Michael, anyone?) and the excellent, nine-minute, proper 'ballad form' The Ballad Of Captain Jack, (bag)pipes and all. Bud Burroughs' background Mellotron strings and in-yer-face flutes on Everything's Going To Be Fine aren't, the latter proving their sample origin.
Adrian Borland was mainman of post-punk outfit The Sound, going on to work with other musicians, not least Tim Smith of Cardiacs, to my surprise. He released several solo albums through the '90s, tragically committing suicide in 1999, after battling depression for over a decade. 2006's The Amsterdam Tapes is his third (and to date, last) posthumous album, apparently partially re-recorded from Dutch sessions in 1992; some of its contents were re-recorded for later albums. I have to say, for someone with such a level of critical acclaim, I fail to see what all the fuss is about; to my ears, this is a soft rock album, far too easy on the ear for its own good. Is this why Borland rejected it for release at the time? It has some lyrical depth, but the music sounds too much like the wetter end of, say, Simple Minds for me to take this at all seriously.
Bart van Poppel is credited with Mellotron on two tracks, opener Fast Blue World and Liberation Day, but the only sound that even comes close is a vague flutey thing on the latter, which I distrust heavily. Was anyone in the Netherlands using a real 'Tron in '92? Anyway, I'm not even convinced these are samples (too early, possibly), let alone a real Mellotron, but this goes here until/if I get any more information. Sadly, I'm afraid I can't recommend this for the music, either; maybe Borland made some better albums? I hope so.
The Boss Martians apparently started as a heavily surf-influenced band, although by 2002's Making the Rounds, they'd fully shifted into the 'garage rock'n'roll' demi-monde. It's actually a bloody good album at what it does, as long as you accept its limitations, i.e. it's Hammond/Farfisa-driven garage rock, with little originality but some cool songs, consistent (or unvarying) enough to make it difficult to pick out highlights. Johnny Sangster's credited with Mellotron, although the only place it even might be found is a rising string line on Feel It Like Everyone, although it doesn't sound especially Mellotronic to me.
The oddly-named Bostich & Fussible seem to be one facet of Tijuana's Nortec Collective, ...Presents: Bulevar 2000 being something like their eleventh album in a decade or so. Latin electronica, anyone? No obvious highlights; I've only given it **½ because it isn't actively awful. Aiko Yamada's Chamberlin is not only inaudible, but most likely inauthentic, too.
Botanica are led by Paul Wallfisch of Firewater, although going by their fourth release, 2006's Berlin Hi-Fi, they mostly lack that band's bonkers eclecticism. To be honest, the bulk of the album is tedious 'alt.rock', until we get to the manic, klezmer-influenced How and mournful, violin-led closer This Perfect Spot that sound like they could be by a different band. Wallfisch is credited with Mellotron, amongst other things, but I'd love to know what he's supposed to be playing. The exceedingly background 'is it/isn't it' choirs on one track? If so, it's got to be sampled; there really isn't anything here resembling a genuine Mellotron. So; a couple of tracks near the end aside, a pretty dullsville release. Let's hope their other albums are better.
For some reason, I'd expected Chris Bottomley to be a sensitive singer-songwriter type, but I now know he's a Toronto-based bassist, working mainly in the reggae field, going by Knotty Bits. The album's probably at its best when it diversifies, from the soca of World Of Dreams to the jazzy Floating & Drifting and the straight jazz of Trouble Makin' Freak. But why, oh why is it seventy minutes long? Forty's quite enough, thank you. I have absolutely no idea why Ken Myhr is credited with Mellotron.
I don't know if Boston's Bill Bowman's Bowman (try saying that quickly) are a proper band or his solo project, but the only album I've heard by him/them, Living to Dream, is a rather splendid powerpop release, highlights including Enemy, All This, Something's Wrong and Thanksgiving, amongst others. Downsides? It's a little too long for comfortable listening in one hit. Bowman, Dave Ramsey and Tom L. Smith are all credited with Mellotron, with flute and string parts on So Many Ways To Say Goodbye and All This (and vibes on closer Nothing?), but the held flute note at the end of All This gives the sample game away for definite.
Tim Bowness is a core member of No-Man, along with Porcupine Tree's Steven Wilson, also playing in Samuel Smiles, Henry Fool and others. Oh, and singing at a mutual friend's wedding last year, in the best and most unusual reception music entertainment I've ever encountered. After all this group activity, 2004's My Hotel Year is actually his first solo album, not sounding so different to No-Man, maybe unsurprisingly, a downbeat feel pervading the record, possibly working best on opener Last Year's Tattoo, Made See-Through and Ian McShane. If I had to categorise this, I'd more than likely put it into 'singer-songwriter', rather than any other genre, Bowness' lyrics being at least as important as the music. Henry Fool's Stephen Bennett is credited with Mellotron, but although 'some' of the 'Tron on the Henry Fool album is real, I strongly suspect that none of it is here. Anyway, we get flutes on Last Year's Tattoo, choirs on Ian McShane and distant strings on Making A Mess In A Clean Place and Sleepwalker, all working well within the confines of the pieces. Not everyone's going to like this, but anyone's who's heard and liked a No-Man album should give this a chance. Should I ever discover that the Mellotron's real, I shall, of course, move this review.
Gothenburg's Martin Henrik "Boy Omega" Gustafsson has had optimistic Elliott Smith comparisons thrown at him, though going by 2007's Hope on the Horizon, I'm afraid I have to question certain reviewers' ears; try 'singer-songwriter crossed with rather average US indie' and you might be a little closer. While some of the album's tracks attempt to echo Smith's forlorn approach (notably lengthy closer True Heaven), the bulk of the record tries (and fails) to sound jaunty, leaving it in a musical no-man's-land, unsure of what it's really trying to be. Gustafsson is credited with Mellotron on three tracks, although there's nothing audible on either The Blues And The Bee Sting or Keep That Flame, while Change Of Plans has naught but some (very) background flutes, most likely sampled.
The curiously-named I Put My Tongue on the Window, by the also curiously-named Boy With a Fish, is the kind of album that reviewers describe as 'Americana' or 'folk', while ignoring the band's hefty indie influence. Perhaps 35 minutes of this would be OK, but fifty's really pushing it; they could lose overlong closer How Will I Go straight away and save nearly seven minutes. Guitarist/vocalist Jeff Claus is credited with Mellotron, but the strings on The Neighbors fail to convince.
Do any of Bozzio Levin Stevens really need any introduction? Well, just in case... Drummer Terry Bozzio (Zappa, Missing Persons), Bassist/Stick man Tony Levin (King Crimson, Peter Gabriel, a million sessions) and Steve "Stevens" Schneider (er, Billy Idol) elected to work together as a trio in the late '90s. Once upon a time, an album by such a renowned grouping would've been snapped up by a major and would probably have sold in reasonable quantities; as it is, they released their albums on the estimable-but-rather-small Magna Carta and only sold to the faithful few. 2000's Situation Dangerous is their second (and, to date, last) album, full of exactly the kind of seventh dan ninja playing you'd expect. However, it's also highly melodic, which, given that it's at least partially improvised, is a minor miracle, top tracks including ripping opener Dangerous, the (relatively) gentle Spiral and the flamenco-influenced Tziganne, Marcus Nand guesting on guitar. No-one's actually credited with keyboards, so there's a good chance the Mellotron samples (string parts all over Dangerous and the middle section of Endless) are triggered from one of the credited instruments. I haven't heard the trio's debut, 1997's Black Light Syndrome, but I can recommend this to anyone who delights in fiery, yet tasteful playing. Very listenable.
Lund's Brainpool (linked with Per Gessle and Roxette) are a pretty mainstream bunch, as you'd expect from a band signed to a major (sad but true). 1996's Stay Free was their third album (the last to feature their original vocalist, Jan "Janne" Kask) and is actually better than you might expect, combining powerpop with a kind of post-grunge rockism, best displayed on the likes of Sister C'mon, The King Of Georgia and Smallville, while lengthy closer Low actually borders prog. No, really. Bassist Christoffer Lundquist plays 'Mellotron', with strings and flutes on High, string lines on The King Of Georgia (way above the instrument's range, giving the sample game away) and Free Ride and choirs all over Low.
Doyle Bramhall II has a lot in common with his ex-bandmate Charlie Sexton, being another young guitarist influenced by the blues and soul greats, rather than his previous generation of players. He's a relatively unusual case of a leftie who learnt on a right-handed instrument flipped over, so his strings are upside down, which hasn't stopped him from playing in Eric Clapton's band for several years. His eponymous solo debut mix'n'matches his influences, from the funky Ain't Goin' Down Slow through the more contemporary True Emotion and the Appalachian folk of Time to the jazz/soul of closer Stay A While, making for a diverse showcase for Bramhall's talents. Lisa Coleman (of Wendy & Lisa fame) plays samplotron on several tracks, with smooth strings on opener Song From The Grave and choppy ones on Ain't Goin' Down Slow and Part II, although the background strings on The Reason I Live sound like an analogue synth.
Branko freely admit that their sound straddles the divide between '80s electro-pop and '90s grunge, although I remain to be convinced that it's a divide that needs straddling. 2005's My World Electric (their debut? And lone release?) is at its best on material such as opener Wonder Woman, the vaguely U2-isms of Let It Go and Love = A Fading Star, maybe, but this is quite possibly too eclectic for its own good. Ben Franswa plays samplotron strings and cellos on Not Like You, although all other Mellotronalikes almost certainly aren't. Should you be yearning for an electro/grunge crossover, you've just found your new favourite band. As for the rest of us...
Jeffry Braun plays a kind of lightweight Americana (note: not country), clearly intended to cross over to the adult contemporary market. A couple of definite samplotron tracks, with stabby flutes on opener Hang In The Balance and cellos and strings on Say Goodbye, with possible others.
Formed by sometime Beck sideman David Brown in the late '90s, the LA-based Brazzaville have a world-weary air about them, (very) roughly analogous to the UK's St. Etienne, maybe, or Stereolab if you took away the cheap synths. Apparently, Brown is a seasoned traveller, picking up influences from South America, Africa and continental Europe, making for an eclectic stylistic mix, which is probably where the Stereolab comparisons come in. The excellently-titled Rouge on Pockmarked Cheeks is their third album, sounding like a lounge lizard's dream across most of its length, with the jarring exception of the full-on rock'n'roll of Queenie, a song out of place if ever there was one. One notable criticism I would make of the album is its length; this kind of music really doesn't lend itself to overlong albums and several tracks are longer (far longer in the case of closer Late Night Lullaby) than their content demands. Samplotron from Brown and pianist Mike Boito, with a lovely flute part on 1980 and more muted (mixed?) strings on Genoa.
2004's Hastings Street isn't dissimilar to its predecessor, although it fails to hold this listener's attention, despite being over ten minutes shorter, with few obviously memorable tracks, the exceptions, Interlude and Lagos Slums, being grouped together in the middle of the record. It apparently takes two musicians, Brown and Greg Kurstin (Ben Harper), to add the samplotron strings to Left Out.
Pittsburgh's Breakup Society morphed out of the Frampton Brothers, Nobody Likes a Winner being their second release, a punk-end-of-powerpop album, at its best on 13th Angry Man, By A Thread and Forget The Past, maybe. Producer Bob Hoag plays majorly fakey chordal 'Mellotron' flutes on How Failure Saved Me From Myself and Strictly Biological Heart.
Billy Bremner sometimes used noms-de-plume in the '70s, to avoid being confused with the (now late) footballer of the same name, although I can't imagine it's been a problem for some time. He's your classic sideman, playing in Dave Edmunds' Rockpile, alongside Nick Lowe, also playing on both musicians' solo albums and with The Pretenders, Shakin' Stevens and many others. No ifs, Buts, Maybes is his third solo album in over two decades, a collection of breezy pop/rock, a little like an '80s Pretenders album without the hideous production, at its best on the Rockpile-ish Knocked Me Over With A Feather, the title track and The Biggest Fool In Town. Dan Hylander plays fairly obvious fakeotron, with background flutes on opener The Real Problem and more upfront ones on The Picture We Painted.
Dennis Brennan's Iodine in the Wine is a decent rock-end-of-Americana album, at its best on opener Familiar Surroundings, the dark acousticity of Lies and Ones & Fours. The nearest it comes to anything Mellotronic (Duke Levine is credited), though, is a hint of background strings, er, somewhere, that could have emanated from almost anything.
Love & Bombs is a pretty decent Americana album, at its best on raucous opener Shake 'Em On Down, It Was Always So Easy (To Find An Unhappy Woman Until I Started Looking For Mine) and In My Stepdad's Truck, maybe. Mike Gent and Scott Janovitz are both credited with Chamberlin on Original Mixed Up Kid, but the only thing it even might be is a couple of seconds of a flutey something at the beginning of the track. Samples, then.
The Brian Jonestown Massacre may have one of the greatest names ever, but the smacked-out, stoner psych of their second album, the wittily-titled Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request is something of a disappointment, I have to say. Maybe if you're looking for a cross between early '90s shoegaze and late '60s psych, you might be happy, but its hazy drones left this particular listener cold. It goes almost without saying that, at over seventy minutes, the album's horrifically overlong, too; slash 30 minutes from this and it might actually be palatable. Band leader Anton Newcombe apparently plays most of the album's instrumentation, although several other members are credited. The liner notes refer to a Mellotron, but given that 2001's Bravery, Repetition & Noise uses confirmed samples and the 'Mellotron' sounds here are muted shadows of the real thing, it seems highly likely that it's samples we're looking at. Cue outraged e-mail from the band protesting it's a real, badly-maintained machine... Various string and flute sounds crop up on several tracks, notably the brief 'flute' solo piece Baby (Prepraise), which highlights just how poor the Mellotron sounds are here.
2002's Bravery, Repetition & Noise is no improvement, frankly; eleven songs (and a pointless remix) of smacked-out lethargy, full of weakly strummed acoustic guitars and Newcombe's lazy (and not in a good way) vocals. I'd be lying if I said that this slack, druggy kind of stuff appeals to me at all, so I shan't. Despite subsequent genuine Mellotron use, Robert Campanella (The Quarter After, Lovetones) tells me that his Mellotron flute credit on opener Just For Today is (and I quote), "A pretty lame sample"; in fact, it's a pretty lame Mellotron string sample, but let's not be picky, eh? It seems to crop up again on Leave Nothing For Sancho, but it could be merely a generic string patch; I'm not sure there's a lot of difference, to be honest. So; drugged-out psych. As it should be, surely? Only it isn't. This lot have a reasonable following, I'm led to believe, but I'd put money on most of them being young enough to see the band's immediate forebears as iconic, not tediously inept. Plenty of muffled Mellotron sounds across these two releases, but that's hardly a recommendation.
I'll be quite honest here; I really can't make Bright Eyes out at all. Are they named for that hideous Art Garfunkel song? Why are their song titles so much more interesting than their music? Are they really that miserable all the time? 'Net reviewers seem to be equally split between unstinting praise and utter opprobrium; brilliant or shite? Don't ask me, I don't get it. Mainman Conor Oberst seems to inspire fanatical devotion as much as he inspires utter loathing; maybe we've finally found the real 'love 'em or hate 'em' band? Fevers & Mirrors seems to be pretty typical fare for the band; understated, ultra-melancholy low-finess, with Oberst's super-personal lyrics taking precedence, or so it seems, over the music much of the time. Personal; yeah, that's it - that's the appeal. The band's fans feel that Oberst is speaking to them directly, for better or worse; he's voicing their own hopes and fears, often almost choking up with emotion as he does so. I find it completely impossible to pick better or worse tracks; although it's really only singer-songwriter fare, this music is so far from my own understanding of what it's about that I really can't judge it at all. Anyway, plenty of samplotron flutes from Andy LeMaster on The Movement Of A Hand, with an unexpected background choir part on Arienette.
The following year, Bright Eyes released an EP split with Saddle Creek labelmates Son, Ambulance, Oh Holy Fools, the bands taking the rather unusual step of playing alternate tracks. Son, Ambulance have a far less irritating singer in Joe Knapp, who doesn't whine and therefore can't be Emo, although his bright(-ish) folk rock still isn't particularly to my taste and, by the third or fourth track, begins to set my teeth on edge. Flutes (again) on Going For The Gold, and a shrieky sort of string part on Kathy With A K's Song are the only samplotron definites, possibly from LeMaster again, although two or three other tracks by both bands have a vague Mellotronic feel to them. 2004's One Jug of Wine, Two Vessels EP was a collaboration with Neva Dinova (a band, not a person); it seems 2004 was the year of Bright Eyes collaborations. Despite their input, the music's pretty much the same old same old, with Oberst's irritating voice holding sway. Nice samplotron flutes yet again on Tripped, running most of the way through the song, possibly played by Nick White.
2011's The People's Key, their first album in four years, is slightly more adventurous than the dreary-indie-by-numbers of their earlier work, an occasional Cardiacs influence even making itself felt. Opener Firewall consists of little more than, for want of a better phrase, a 'total nutjob' (sorry, technical term) expounding upon the history of mankind, from an, er, 'somewhat skewed' perspective, over drifting guitar and keys, reappearing throughout, but the handful of better tracks are dragged down by the likes of closer One For You, One For Me, which made me lose the will to live. Nathaniel Walcott is credited with Mellotron throughout, but I'd be amazed if the exceedingly background strings on a few tracks, notably A Machine Spiritual (In The People's Key), emanated from a genuine machine.
So; I can't really recommend anything by Bright Eyes, because I absolutely don't get what they're doing, although it seems they're pretty cool politically, refusing to deal with Clear Channel and touring with Springsteen. They may quite possibly be brilliant; I don't know. What I can tell you is that they've used samplotron on a handful of tracks over four releases. Oh, and what I can also tell you (thanks for this, Emily) is that the band name is almost certainly a quote from Poe's 'Annabel Lee', referenced in Bright Eyes' Jetsabel Removes The Undesirables, available on some editions of Fevers & Mirrors, though clearly not the one I reviewed.
Brighton MA's Dylan-esque indie eponymous EP/mini-album's six overlong, unoriginal songs (opener Bet You Never Thought is a dead-ringer for Bowie's "Heroes") are deeply uninspiring, while Jim Tuerk's polyphonic 'Mellotron' flutes and possible strings on Good Kind Of Crazy simply aren't.
The Brimstone Solar Radiation Band are a wonderful throwback to that early '70s psych/prog/hard rock crossover era, evolving from Bergen's metal scene in the '90s. 2005's Solstice is their second full-lengther, apparently a distinct step up from their fraught debut, top tracks including opener Back In The Days (1970 revisited), psych/prog epic The Spirit Of The Airborne Hogweed (ho ho) and Where Is Your Love, while Øystein Fosshagen's violin work on Norwaii Five-O (ho ho again) adds a welcome folky ingredient to the mix. The Mellotron strings fakery on Back In The Days, If Man Is Still Alive and Neon Darkness is perfectly understandable, as the chances of the band tracking down a real machine at that point were infinitesimal. Overall, then, a fine album for modern psychsters, with some decent samplotron work thrown in for good measure.
Catherine Britt is an Australian country singer who apparently spent several years in Nashville, presumably honing her authenticity and boosting her credentials. Her eponymous 2010 release is actually her fourth album, a varied set incorporating electric blues/rock (opener I Want You Back, Under My Thumb), upbeat country/pop/rock (Can't Change A Thing), acoustic slide blues (Holy River) and several examples of perfectly acceptable balladry, not least Sweet Emmylou. Shane Nicholson plays Mellotron, with a polyphonic flute part on Anywhere You Are, sounding somewhat sampled.
Broadcast are a British female-fronted indie outfit with influences from the pre-psych '60s and modern electronica. Did I hear anyone say 'Stereolab'? Or 'Saint Etienne', for that matter? 2005's Tender Buttons is their third album, mixing electronic glitches to rather insipid indie songwriting to no great effect, to be honest. The rumoured Mellotron on Tears In The Typing Pool (from James Cargill) turns out to be distorted 'Tron flute samples, on the nearest the album gets to a good song. Generally speaking, you're probably not going to like this any more than me, and one track of messed-about 'Tron samples isn't going to change your mind.
Or, The Brothers Olsen, active since the '60s. Songs is precisely that, a collection of (I presume) favourites from their respective youths, including material by The Byrds, The Beatles, The Kinks, the Monkees, even Elvis, all turned into blandola, easy-listening versions, presumably designed not to offend anyone. Think: the Danish Everlys at their most anodyne, so it's no surprise that they eventually tackle All I Have To Do Is Dream. Olle Nyberg's 'Mellotron' strings barely even qualify as samples.
Chuck Brodsky is a country artist, known for his humorous and insightful lyrical approach. Highlights of his fourth album, Last of the Old Time, include environmentally-themed opener Take It Out Back, In The Country and the amusing Schmoozing. Brandon Bush supposedly plays Mellotron.
Justin Brogdon plays a kind of mildly unpalatable indie/Americana crossover, the former successfully neutering the latter, while Don McCollister's background 'Mellotron' strings on Tangle Up and Regarding Jamie quite certainly aren't.
Brokeback's third album, Looks at the Bird, is a mostly instrumental Stereolab-type indie record, embracing strands of electronica and jazz, not a million miles away from Tortoise's quieter work (they even cover that band's The Suspension Bridge At Iguazú Falls). The 'dance-lite' beats that pervade several tracks are a bit of a distraction for this reviewer, though; why are these things necessary? They add nothing to the music and can actually subtract from it in some cases. Not only is there no Mellotron credited, there's no mention of keyboards at all, apart from regular and reed organs, but the strings on The Suspension Bridge At Iguazú Falls are definitely sampled Mellotron, as against the real strings on the rest of the album. Overall, then, an album of quietitude, far more palatable than many similar I've heard, though probably not something to make the average Planet Mellotron reader's heart sing with joy.
I think you can probably guess into which overall genre Broken Dagger fall. Clue: it's not sunshine pop. It's a pity they have to use a moniker which has fascistic overtones, although I'm sure that wasn't their intention, as they don't give the impression they're church-burners. Chain of Command (more macho pseudo-militarism, sadly) is, frankly, a truly ridiculous album, albeit a surprisingly melodic one, full of massed male vocals, wild screams, Yngwie-alike guitar work and more blastbeats than you can shake a drumstick at. I've no idea if there's some kind of concept held within (sorry, slipped into Broken Dagger's histrionic vocabulary there for a moment), but they're getting terribly excited about something and I just heard the phrase, "Penetrates his chest", so I think it's safe to assume the lyrical content has little in common with affairs of the heart, unless it involves cutting it out. Urban Måsby plays keys, including samplotron, with strings on opener An Unwanted Child and closer E.B.E.N., the album's various choir contributions sounding either generic or real. One for the clenched-fist brigade, I think. And I bet they're insanely proud of that 'explicit content' sticker, too.
Gramophone Transmissions is a drifting, ambient work, with something of a 2001 theme going on; to quote the sleevenotes: "Source material is comprised exclusively of processed samples and loops derived from classical vinyl records, and choral, mellotron and piano recordings", which sounds about right. I can't spot where the Mellotron string parts have been sampled from (assuming that's what they are), but that's probably what was intended.
Broken Social Scene are a Toronto-based collective, grouped around the duo of Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, leading to the confusing situation whereby the band have released four albums to date, while Drew and Canning have released one each under the banner of Broken Social Scene Presents... Drew's Spirit if... is the first of these, a thoroughly ordinary modern indie album, if truth be told, overlong as a result of a) too many tracks and b) an unwillingness to edit. To add to the misery, Drew's voice is a whining, tuneless thing, while the vocal melodies are too poppy for comfort, in the manner of most indie nonsense. Charles Spearin adds 'Mellotron' to Bodhi Sappy Weekend, with a nice flute part opening the track, carrying on under the synth brass, although that's your lot. In direct contrast, 2010's Forgiveness Rock Record is, to my knowledge, the fifth BSS release 'proper', although, sadly, it's no better than Drew's offshoot album, another overlong effort filled with energetic-yet-redundant indie drivel. The nearest it comes to highpoints are the sitar on Ungrateful Little Father (although the rest of the track is ruined by its plinky-plonky rhythm and irritating vocal) and the bit on Water In Hell where it suddenly picks up the pace. Slim pickings, eh? Drew plays 'Mellotron' this time round, with distant flutes on Sweetest Kill.
The Broken West are essentially powerpop, although several tracks on their debut, 2007's cryptically-titled I Can't Go on, I'll Go on (a Samuel Beckett quote, apparently), contain hints of current US indie and even folk, unfortunately diluting their overall sound a little. The upside of this is that the album's a little more diverse than most of the Big Star-alikes, however good they may be, who clutter up the field. Best tracks? Probably the joyous So It Goes, Brass Ring and the 12-string-fest of You Can Build An Island, but nothing here actually disappoints. Guitarist Ross Flournoy allegedly plays Mellotron, but given that the vibes on So It Goes are real, I have absolutely no idea where. Don't let that put you off a decent album, though (like, it was going to?); powerpop fans should go for this, even if some of its contents sit on the borders of the genre.
Bronnt Industries Kapital is the musical nom de plume of Bristolian Guy Bartell, whose second album, 2007's Häxan ('hexan', or 'the witch') is not merely inspired by the classic 1922 Danish silent film (a combined documentary/dramatisation of the mediæval phenomenon), but is actually intended as a new soundtrack for it. While soundtracks have been written for the film before, not least Geoff Smith's contemporaneous one for hammer dulcimer, I doubt whether any of them quite conjure up the menace of the period to the same extent as Bartell's; this really is a triumph of modern soundtrack writing, eschewing the ludicrous melodrama of Hammer's '60s and '70s output for the quiet horror of synthesized drones, electric pianos, organs and surprisingly menacing glockenspiels. Picking out individual tracks is almost pointless; this really needs to be listened to as a whole, and despite its length, it doesn't drag, possibly due to the amount of timbral variety on offer. Mellotron use has been rumoured, but you have to wait until track 25, Endless Pressure, until a haunted flute part rears its head, at which point suspicions are aroused that it all sounds a little to 'regular' for its own good. While not being able to prove it's sampled, it seems the most likely option, so it stays here until/if etc. etc.
Confusingly, The Bronx have opted to name their first three albums eponymously, in true Peter Gabriel style. 2006's version is the second of the three and is probably best described as modern US punk with a weird country edge, notably on closer White Guilt. But is it any good? I expect they and their fans think so, but it left me stone cold, to be honest, but what do I know? Joby J. Ford is credited with Mellotron, but I've absolutely no idea where it might be used. what's the point, eh? What's the point in using something, then keeping it so low in the mix that it's inaudible? Totally pointless. So; a punk album with no obvious Mellotron. That's it.
After playing in The Story with Jennifer Kimball, Jonatha Brooke went solo in the mid-'90s, 2007's Careful What You Wish for being her fifth release. Awash in a sea (sewer?) of brain-dead, corporate 'adult pop', Brooke's thoughtful, intelligent material stands out like the antithesis of a sore thumb, songs of the quality of Keep The River On Your Right, Hearsay and Forgiven telling us, perversely, exactly why she was dropped by a major label. She even sings one song in French (Je N'Peux Pas Te Plaire, of course); could it be said that speaking even a little of that language (native French-speakers disqualified; sorry) is almost a definition of 'cultured'? Brooke plays samplotron, with a backing melodic string part on I'll Leave The Light On and distant strings on Hearsay.
Brooklyn appears to be Brooke Mackintosh's alter-ego, her Blue Skies Await being a mildly eccentric singer-songwriter album, shifting between piano-led material (Journey, Scared Of Love), kind-of Celtic rock (Believe) and orchestrated balladry (Clipped Wing, If You Try). Sven Erik Seaholm's 'Mellotron' consists of sampled background strings on opener Change My Mind and a flute line on Clipped Wing.
Brooks & Dunn are apparently huge in the world of country, which shows just how out of touch I am with that oeuvre. Thankfully. I mean, Americana/alt.country is (usually) fine, but the full-blown Nashville variety either bores me to tears or turns my stomach. Maybe surprisingly, the duo's 2003 offering, Red Dirt Road, isn't too bad for a few tracks, but its (fairly minimal) appeal wanes as it ploughs through its near-hour length. Its most tedious features are semi-God-bothering lyrics like the title track or the openly offensive Holy War, not to mention their 'I'm just a country boy' schtick (although, in fairness, they are). It's not all awful, but it goes on rather too long and refuses to step outside its genre in any way, shape or form, for better or worse. Steve Nathan supposedly plays Mellotron, although I have absolutely no idea where, as it's entirely inaudible, so 'samples' it is. Which means... (you guessed it) don't bother.
Brookville is essentially Andy Chase's solo project, a kind of post-rock/pop crossover thing, at least on 2003's Wonderfully Nothing, replete with a pre-psych '60s influence on several tracks. Unsurprisingly, I hate it, material like opener Fleet and Fais Dodo really getting my hackles up with their cheesy dreariness, overlaid with Chase's wispy voice. At whom is this actually aimed? Anyone? I'm all for artists following their muse (if not actually following Muse), but this vaguely Stereolab-lite stuff seems utterly pointless, which clearly shows how little I understand it. Good. To add insult to injury, this nonsense is almost an hour long. Mellotron? Not actually credited, in fairness; Sample From Heaven's title may well be the giveaway here, as the 'Mellotron' flutes running right through the track clearly aren't. We get them again, with strings, on Shine, plus string swells on Justine, This Is How It Ends and, distantly, on a couple of other tracks.
Three years on, 2006's Life in the Shade displays little obvious improvement, although it's perhaps a shade (ho ho) less infuriating. Just a shade, mind. It's also slightly longer than its predecessor (the Japanese version nears seventy minutes), which is far too long for this kind of stuff. Chase and Jeremy Adelman are both credited with Mellotron this time round, but you'd have to do a load of studio work on the 'Mellotron' strings on Break Yourself to make them sound that drifty, so my vote goes for samples, the same going for the flutes on Shadows and Today and strings on Hey You Hang On. I cannot overstate how much I urge you not to bother hearing Brookville. Awful.
Cary Brothers (an individual, not siblings) is a Nashville-based singer-songwriter who doesn't play country, which you may take to be an advantage until you hear him. His debut, 2007's Who You Are, is one of those horrible, insipid modern indie/singer-songwriter efforts, like the wettest end of Daniel Powter, say; even when it picks up the pace (the title track, The Last One), it just sounds sub-U2, which is never a good thing. Greg Collins plays 'Mellotron' strings on the title track and flutes on The Glass Parade, while Chad Fischer adds flutes to Loneliest Girl In The World, none of it to any great effect.
Two of Brothers Keepers' three members have played in John Oates' band, although the new outfit's style leans more towards the rocky end of Americana on their 2014 debut, Todd Meadows. It's a fine example of the genre, featuring a fair few guest players, top tracks including Keep On Burning, the funky Cold Rain and Nothing To Do, closing with a blistering version of The Band classic The Weight. Jason Crosby is credited with Mellotron, but the strings on Bring The Man Down, well down in the mix, sound more like samples to my ears. A decent effort, then, keeping Americana alive and kicking without descending into mainstream nonsense.
Pose While it Pops sits at the country end of the singer-songwriter spectrum, at its best on Soap & Water and closer Breathing Down Your Neck. Rob Arthur's Mellotron credit seems to consist of a brief burst of sampled strings on I Wish.
Although Marc Broussard's style is supposed to reference funk, soul, blues and other genres, his fourth album, 2008's Keep Coming Back, is a spot-on copy (or pastiche?) of '70s pop/soul, sounding like all those cheeso artists you hoped you'd never hear, or even hear of again. You know, England Dan & John Ford Coley and their horrid ilk. To be brutally honest, I really can't think of anything nicer to say about this than that, other than its rating is as high as it is due to its sheer professionalism and nothing else. I really hope I never have to hear this again, though. Calvin Turner plays samplotron, with a chordal flute part on Why Should She Wait, although all the album's strings appear to be real. 2011's Marc Broussard is, essentially, a re-run of Keep Coming Back, its best track being 'hidden' acoustic closer Gibby's Song, although it's not even given its own track on the disc. Jamie Kenney plays vague samplotron flutes on Let Me Do It Over, but that seems to be your lot.
Findlay Brown is a contemporary British singer following in the footsteps of, say, Richard Hawley, in his veneration of the pre-psych '60s in general and Scott Walker in particular. His debut album, 2009's Love Will Find You (strangely listed as 2010 on his website) is a lush, epic, romantic album, stuffed with ballads such as Teardrops Lost In The Rain and closer I Had A Dream sitting alongside the more uptempo All That I Have and That's Right. But is it any good? Depends whether you like Scott-esque material, I suppose; Brown sounds nothing like Mr. Engels vocally, but the material's spot-on. Richard Norris adds samplotron choirs to All That I Have and strings to Teardrops Lost In The Rain and Holding Back The Night. If you just can't get enough of pompadours, orchestras and overblown ballads, there's a good chance you'll love Findlay Brown.
Strange Scars is a quirky singer-songwriter album, at its best on haunted opener Sunday Streak, the gentle Hole and the final, hidden track, maybe. Irwin Fisch's Mellotron? Aside from a couple of non-Mellotronic string parts, I have no idea.
Susan Storm's Ugly Sister is an album of sparse, strange little songs, typified by the likes of the rather strange title track that opens the record, the handclap-driven Zoe Of Rome and closer Giovanni Bernardone (St. Francis). Brown is credited with Mellotron, but the background flutes on Zoe Of Rome are quite clearly sampled.
One of the joys (?) of running a review site is the leap into the unknown: what will this sound like? Will it be any good? Occasionally, this pays off. Sadly, usually it doesn't. In the case of the Zac Brown Band's Jekyll + Hyde, it doesn't. With bells on. Their Wikipedia entry describes them as 'alternative', although there's clearly a sizeable country component in their sound, neither of which excuses album opener Beautiful Drug, which sounds like someone trying to ape - I dunno, One Direction? R'n'b drumming, one of those hideous modern pop vocal lines... There is absolutely no excuse for dross like this.
If I were to say that things subsequently pick up, it would only be because they couldn't get much worse. In fairness, the album's nothing if not eclectic; it shifts through fiddle-driven hoedown Loving You Easy, the pseudo-gospel Remedy, country-rocker Homegrown and the brassy swing-era jazz of Mango Tree in quick succession, making Heavy Is The Head's alt.rock something of a relief. Bittersweet's a typical country ballad, Castaway channels '50s calypso (!), we get 'epic country' in Dress Blues, Junkyard borrows heavily from something on The Wall... As I said, nothing if not eclectic, also nothing if not pretty awful, too. Clay Cook supposedly plays Mellotron. Where, Clay? Those vaguely background strings on Young And Wild? The cello on the acoustic version of Tomorrow Never Comes? I don't think we're hearing anything more authentic than some software-generated samples buried deep in the mix.
Duncan Browne's career has already been partially detailed on this site, so I shan't go over it again. 1995's Songs of Love & War consists of demos recorded across several years, pieced together by producer and ex-Steve Hackett keys man, Nick Magnus, after Browne's tragic and untimely death in '93. Unsurprisingly, the end result lacks cohesion in places, but by and large, Magnus has done an incredible job of salvaging an album's-worth of material, albeit with help from various musicians, not least ex-Zombies vocalist Colin Blunstone, who stands in for Browne on a handful of tracks. Highlights include Suddenly Last Summer, solo classical guitar piece Bercuse and Journey '93, a re-recording of Browne's lone hit from two decades earlier. If I have a criticism, it's that, in the way of many singer-songwriter releases, the album suffers slightly from its time of recording, many of the keyboard sounds and production tricks now sounding distinctly dated, but let's face it, that's hardly restricted to '80s/early '90s recordings.
Nick adds Mellotron samples to a couple of tracks, with distant choirs on Suddenly Last Summer and strings on Rainer. This is also the only entry (to my knowledge) in the samples section to features a real Mellotron on one track. Huh? The Wild Places is taken directly from Browne's 1978 album of the same name, with minor studio tweaking, so although Tony Hymas' Mellotron choir is clearly audible, the track's already available on another album. This is apparently now quite difficult to get hold of, although the limited demand presumably isn't enough to warrant a reissue. Duncan Browne's talent is still little-recognised outside his core fanbase; despite being slightly 'of its era', Songs of Love & War is a valuable addition to his small catalogue. Hear it if you can.
Hans Brun is such a determinedly non-international artist that finding out anything much about him at all is a bit of a task. I'm sure, however, that he's released more than the one album listed on Discogs, Under Stjernerne, a mainstream, Danish-language Americana-infused pop/rock effort, entirely harmless, if a little dull, especially if you don't know what he's singing about. Morten Maltesen's barely-audible 'Mellotron' flutes on Du Er Min Pige sound sampled.
The Brunettes are the rather twee indie duo of New Zealanders Jonathan Bree and Heather Mansfield, whose third album, 2007's Structure & Cosmetics, is a rather undistinguished set of songs of the kind that keep indie fans happy, but few others, although its predecessor, 2004's Mars Loves Venus, is a slightly better proposition. I'm sure it's perfectly good at what it does, but it all sounds a bit dreary to these jaded ears, with a lack of particularly memorable melodies. Bree is credited with Mellotron, but the flutes and/or strings on most tracks have that ring of 'not quite rightness' about them, not to mention the overuse which marks out probable sample use. So; twee indie, fake Mellotron, why bother?
Is this the same Italian-born virtual Frenchwoman Carla Bruni who is currently cavorting with (OK, now married to) a certain far-right French politician? 'Fraid so... We all know what he's getting out of the deal, but what about her? I doubt if it's anything to do with his pleasant nature, liberal ideals or riveting personality, that's for sure... 2003's Quelqu'un M'a Dit (Someone Told Me) is a heavily chanson-influenced album, making it fairly impenetrable to non-French speakers, but then, that's who it's made for, so fair enough, really. My problem with the album doesn't lie in its chosen language, but in its tedium; I'm sure it's perfectly good if you're into the style, but I found it utterly tedious, not to mention wearing, almost entirely due to Ms. Bruni's vocals being so high in the mix that you sometimes have trouble hearing the acoustic instruments accompanying her. Louis Bertignac plays vague background samplotron flutes on L'Excessive.
On 2007's No Promises, Ms Bruni sings in English, principally because the lyrics are all English-language poems set to music, authors including Yeats, Auden, Rossetti, De La Mare and Emily Dickinson. Although the album finds her deep in the clutches of the French political system, it's made no obvious difference to her music. Her voice, however, is starting to show the effects of years of Gitanes abuse; why do some people find cigarette-ravaged tones sexy? Bizarre. This could actually be a lot worse; a lot lot worse, actually, which is why it gets a rather surprising three stars. Bertignac on samplotron again, with quiet, yet pervasive flute parts on the title-influencing Promises Like Pie-Crust and closer At Last The Secret Is Out, plus an uncredited part on Before The World Was Made.
I'd be lying if I said that Jim Bryson's doing anything new, but The North Side Benches does that Americana thing with aplomb, if little originality, while the chordal 'Mellotron' flutes on Somewhere Else are clearly sampled.
Buckcherry's second album carries on in pretty much the same vein as their first; an unholy cross between AC/DC and punk, with more guitar than you can shake a stick at. Now, I'm not saying this is bad. In fact, it could be really good, but Time Bomb just doesn't excite me in the same way that (for example) Let There Be Rock still does. Maybe I'm just old and jaded. Basically, it's a dozen tracks of raucous rock'n'roll, which you'll probably either love or be completely indifferent to, as I'm afraid to say I was. Surprisingly, session man Jamie Muhoberac plays samplotron on the album's two more balladic moments, Helpless and You, with strings and maybe a touch of choir on the former and strings treated so heavily that they could be generic samples on the latter.
Oh God, Leamington Spa's Budapest's Too Blind to Hear is a load of dreary old cock... Well, that's a way to start a review, innit? Wikipedia describes them as 'melancholic post-grunge'; I'd describe them as 'wishy-washy non-rock drivel', but then, years of listening to crap bands has reduced my tolerance threshold to somewhere near zero. Essentially, it's an album of heartfelt, mid-paced semi-orchestral dullness; 'orchestral indie', if that helps. I thought I was going to get away with it, but Chris Pemberton (presumably) plays sampled Mellotron strings on closer Nothing New, which has precisely one good thing about it: it's the last song on the album. It seems original guitarist Mark Walworth committed suicide after recording his parts; tragic though this event was, I have to wonder whether the record's determinedly downbeat approach had anything to do with his state of mind at the time? Anyway, I doubt if you want to hear this any more than I do.
Minneapolis natives Bug! played largely mid-paced pop/rock on their eponymous debut (and lone release?), at its least dull on the poppy Monday Morning, Minute and It Always Happens. Bassist John "Strawberry" Fields is credited with Mellotron, but the flutes on closer Airport Song are not only too clean, but shift way below the instrument's range.
Built to Spill's Untethered Moon starts well with the one/two of All Our Songs and Living Zoo, but dips somewhat as it progresses, especially on the rather bland Never Be the Same. The album's unevenness even applies to individual tracks, several of which start well then peter out, or vice versa; it all ends well with the eight-minute When I'm Blind, but it's a shame they can't be more consistent. Sam Coomes is credited with Mellotron, but the only even possible use here is something that might be background strings on So, so I think we have to assume samples.
Bullyrag were a multi-racial British outfit, whose sole album, 1998's Songs of Praise (ironically named for a religious programme on the BBC, for non-Brits) is a kind of rap/rock/indie/electronica effort. A woozy, druggy feel permeates many of its tracks, the overlong whole possibly at its best on Summer Daze. Producer Chris Hughes plays samplotron strings on opener Jump Up In A Fashion and Summer Daze.
Enrique Ortiz de Landázuri "Bunbury" Izardui (his nom de plume taken from Oscar Wilde) made his name in Héroes del Silencio, before going solo in 1997 with Radical Sonora. The album mixes rock and dance/electronica in relatively equal measures, while Latin pop influences are readily detectable, making this the kind of album with which Planet Mellotron readers are unlikely to engage. No, it has no best tracks. Although Bunbury's credited with Mellotron, the cellos on a couple of tracks and (especially) the flute and pitchbent string lines on Negativo sound well into the sampled sector to my ears. Believe me, you're not going to want to hear this to find out for yourself, anyway.
Instrumental power trio Bunky Moon's Schtuff We Like concentrates on covers, also throwing a handful of originals into the mix. This approach works when they cover instrumental material (notably Crimso's deathless Larks' Tongues In Aspic, Part 2), but Bowie's Space Oddity and Purple's Maybe I'm A Leo, to name but two, sound a little sparse. All in all, though, a fine effort; Floyd's Fat Old Sun gets a particularly good workout. Background samplotron flutes on Macca's Maybe I'm Amazed, for what it's worth.
Although Dec(lan) Burke is Irish, he moved to the UK in his teens, subsequently playing with neo-progsters such as Frost (irritatingly styled as Frost*) and Darwin's Radio. His solo debut (named for the cult Japanese film) is a typical modern neo-prog effort, all clattering rhythms, metal guitars and AOR choruses; as regular readers of this site may guess, it's not my cup of tea. Carl Westholm is credited with Mellotron on Promised, to which I can only say, 'you must be fucking joking!'
Burnin Red Ivanhoe's last album was a bit of a mish-mash, being a 'live in the studio' recording of several new tracks and a handful of old favourites, possibly at its best on lengthy instrumental jam Bareback Rider. Its worst? A pointless, badly-played version of Johnny & the Hurricanes' Red River Rock, itself a rock'n'roll take on 19th Century cowboy song Red River Valley. And Karsten Vogel's 'Mellotron'? Nonexistent.
Six years on from The Noodle & the Damage Done (groan), Burnt Noodle's Next Exit is, if possible even more drifting and trippy, often to the point of dissolving into an ambient stew. Highpoints? Opener Bipolar summons up a little energy, while Day By Day's a (relatively) straightforward, acoustic-based song, but the last four tracks (of six) are all jammed-out psych, in a 'we've done all the drugs' kind of way. Good drugs or bad? Would we know? Paul Lamb's 'Mellotron' consists of distant choirs on Road Flip and massive (and massively unlikely) strings pitchbends on Uncap Your Brain, clearly sampled.
How to describe Norway's Butti 49? Soul? Funk? Electronica? 'Dance'? All of the above? 2004's Habit certainly contains elements of all those genres, mostly in a particularly irritating and long-winded way. Why is this album seventy bloody minutes long? It would've been stretching it to compress it to forty, frankly. About the only thing on it that caught my attention was the (credited, presumably real) sitar on Loving U, though that's not much of a recommendation, really. Øyvind Jakobsen's Mellotron strings and flutes open the album on Flying, but unless I'm very much mistaken, they've been nowhere near a set of 35 tapes and matched tape-heads. In other words, it's sample territory again. Or not? I reckon so and it's staying here unless I should find out otherwise. Anyway, I can't imagine you were about to, but please don't buy this album; it's far too long and exceedingly irritating.
Geert Verdickt's Buurman make soundtrack to films that haven't been made (if you'll excuse the cliché), their debut, Rocky Komt Altijd Terug, sounding more like a throwback to the era of Brel and his ilk then anything contemporary. Inexplicably, the hour-ish long album is spread over two discs (two movements?), Verdickt's weary, careworn, frequently spoken vocals tying what I presume is a concept together, along with an upright piano, jazz drumming and tasteful brass arrangements. Is it possible to nail any 'best tracks'? Not really, no, although the Spanish guitar on the two parts of Terrastake on disc two caught my ear. Koen Tote supposedly plays Mellotron, but the vague strings on God, Ik En Marjon and the flutes on one or two other tracks on disc one don't sound that authentic to my ears. To be honest, you're unlikely to get very much out of this without speaking Dutch/Flemish, as the album's main priority seems to be to tell a story, about which I can ascertain precisely nothing. But then, I'm not Belgian, so this isn't aimed at me.
Matti Bye's The Phantom Carriage is a beautiful soundtrack piece for the DVD reissue of the silent Swedish cinema classic from 1921. Bye captures the spirit of the times in his gentle, yet ominous orchestrations for small ensemble, often no more than his own piano. However, I have no idea why Kristian Holmgren is credited with Mellotron.
I hear that Byfrost (named for Bifröst, the bridge into Asgard) combine black and thrash metal on their second outing, 2011's Of Death, but to my untrained ear, it's naught but good ol' 'eavy metal with a thrashy edge. Actually, I say 'naught but', but Byfrost have really got a handle on this stuff, managing to make an inherently silly genre ('extreme' metal) into something perfectly listenable to the old-school rock fan, better tracks including the mid-paced Eye For An Eye and Buried Alive and epic closer All Gods Are Gone. Yes, it's a bit silly, but they do it well. Someone plays a major 'Mellotron' string part on Sorgh, the album's quietest track (and one of its highpoints), although I'll be stunned if it's real. So; modern metal that succeeds in not entirely alienating anyone born before, ooh, 1994, with a bit of fakeotron to boot.
David Byrne's latest project is a collaboration with British dance guru Fatboy Slim, otherwise known as Norman Cook, ex-indie wimps The Housemartins and The Beautiful South. Here Lies Love is, improbably, a double concept album based on the Philippines' infamous dictator's wife, Imelda Marcos, lady of a thousand pairs of shoes, clearly recognisable on the sleeve. Each of its 22 tracks sung by a different (mostly) female vocalist, including Tori Amos, Martha Wainwright, Natalie Merchant and others, while stylistically, it shifts between slightly '60s-influenced pop, Byrne's beloved Latin and Norm's programmed grooves, for better or worse. Mark de Gli Antoni is credited with Mellotron on Every Drop Of Rain, with a rather ordinary string part that doesn't actually sound like a Mellotron at all, so most likely isn't.
Although US-born, Jim Byrnes is now an honorary Canuck, known for both his acting and musical careers, having released his debut album back in 1981. Saying that, 2006's House of Refuge is only his sixth release; I presume his acting work has got in the way of the music over the years. It's a good album of its type, a reasonably appealing blues/country/gospel mix, better tracks including Running Out Of Time, The Death Of Ernesto Guevara and Last Fair Deal Gone Down, although there isn't anything here that made me cringe. Producer Steve Dawson is credited with Mellotron, with a cello line on the '40s jazz-inflected Stardust, quite clearly sampled. 2009's My Walking Stick isn't dissimilar to its predecessor, if perhaps slanted a little further towards the blues, the countryish Lonely Blue Boy (Danny's Song) being the furthest from that style. Dawson plays what he describes on his blog as a 'Mellotron vibrophone sound', which sounds a more than a tad suspect to me. Anyway, it can be heard in the quiet bit in Ophelia, which is quite enough to label it 'sampled'.