
Grey Malkin who has also worked as, alongside other names, The Hare And The Moon and Widow’s Weeds, has been a stalwart supporter of A Year In The Country over the years, both as a contributor to the themed A Year In The Country compilations and also by writing reviews of the AYITC books, a number of which have been published in Moof magazine.

Below are two of the AYITC book reviews which he wrote on spec but that haven’t yet been published elsewhere.
I wanted to post them as, aside from them being about books that I’ve written and published, as with all his AYITC book reviews they’re interesting and thoughtful explorations of wyrd, hauntological etc themes and culture.

A Year In The Country – ‘Threshold Tales’ by Stephen Prince
The A Year In The Country imprint continues its literary exploration into the more hidden and arcane aspects of both hauntological and folkloric culture with its new publication ‘Threshold Tales’. This new text follows fast on the heels of its previous collection, ‘Lost Transmissions’, which focused on such celluloid ghosts as the obscure supernatural TV compendium ‘Leap In The Dark’, and on investigations into the cinema of ‘Rollerball’ and ‘Gattaca’, as well as a deep dive into the uncanny aspects of the music of Delia Derbyshire, Sharron Kraus and Burial. These writings, as well as previous publications ‘Wandering Through Spectral Fields’, ‘Straying From The Pathways’ and ‘Cathode Rays and Celluloid Hinterlands’, provide an encyclopaedic dissection and reference point for unusual, occult and often dystopian TV shows, books, music and cinema. Highlighting and often lingering at the crossroads where both folklore (and folk music) and a more urban, electronic or modern culture meet or intersect, A Year In The Country’s landscape is filled with such cult televisual outings as ‘Sapphire and Steel’, ‘Children of the Stones’ and ‘The Owl Service’, with spooked cinema like ‘The Wicker Man’ and ‘Stalker’, writers in the ilk of Alan Garner, Nigel Kneale and John Masefield, and music that ranges from obscure acid folk albums to the electronica of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, Broadcast and Boards of Canada. A Year In The Country also operate as a record label themselves, and have an treasure trove of a back catalogue, both under their own name and as compilers of various themed compilations featuring the likes of The Rowan Amber Mill, The Heartwood Institute and Vic Mars. These can be sourced at their Bandcamp page, alongside their other publications and novellas; all are beautifully curated and mirror the deeply strange and haunted culture that permeated the UK during the 1970s and 80s, often penetrating the mainstream in an esoteric and apocalyptic manner, and which still resonate and inspire today.

‘Threshold Tales’ explicitly sets out its stall with its subtitle of ‘Crossing the Boundaries of Woodland Wraiths, the Uncanny City, Edgeland Expeditions and Frontier Dreamscapes’, and does indeed wander down each of these paths by means of looking at relevant or associated cultural artefacts. Taking a wider derive outside of the confines of the haunted horizons of the UK, various international sources and media are examined; the eerily beautiful Finnish shapeshifter film ‘The White Reindeer’ (1952) is explored as a precursor to the current folk horror genre and Mike Hodge’s ‘Black Rainbow’ (1989) reveals the darkness at the heart of American industry through a paranormal and surrealist lens, whilst also hinting at nature’s eventual dominion over man and his urban environment. The supernatural Disney adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s autumnal American chiller ‘Something Wicked This Way Comes’ is also given a chapter, in hindsight its Lynchian and unsettling atmosphere a curious project or release from ‘the house of the mouse’. A Year In The Country have wandered down more global routes previously, and it is telling that many of the same thematic concerns, and aspects of folklore or urban mythology, are transient; they cross borders and do not belong to any one country or culture alone. Staying with Disney, the Bette Davis starring ‘The Watcher In The Woods’ (1980) is given a perhaps overdue evaluation as a quality and enduring piece of supernatural television, its troubled inception and its place within a canon of equally haunted cinema given a proper telling. In a similar vein, the crossover of urban wyrd and folk horror is dealt with in a chapter looking primarily at 2016’s ‘’Without Name’, a film that eerily juxtaposes human disenchantment with nature with a sense of a woodland alive in its reactions to being intruded upon. It is the presenting of this sense of the uncanny (or something that by logic shouldn’t exist or be there) that A Year In The Country do so well, whether it is ‘The Watcher…’’s. English manor house ghosts or ‘Without Name’s more contemporary forest wraiths.

A more singular focus on the urban strange is given with a study of tower blocks as a televisual or cinematic motif for something ominous or malevolent, in particular 1987’s ‘Dark Tower’ starring Jenny Agutter, which is further given resonance (in terms of the theme of interactive or impactful architecture) by a chapter on 2017’s modernist and melancholic ‘Columbus’, Elsewhere, the human results of urban dereliction, and the concept of the forgotten edgelands of cities as liminal places, are given close attention, both in the US in Jim Jarmusch’s ‘Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai’(1999), and in the UK in Alan Bleasdale’s ‘No Surrender’ (1985). Both are darkly comedic and offer up eccentric and embattled characters who exist amongst (and possibly in reaction to) the dilapidated, forgotten streets and blocks that they inhabit, Such liminality and its effects upon not just human behaviour, but also art and culture, is taken up in the section on the documentary ‘Searching for the Wrong Eyed Jesus’ (2003), in which musician Jim White travels the hinterlands of the American South, meeting such iconoclasts as the novelist Harry Crews, banjo player Lee Sexton, and David Johansen of the New York Dolls. Further chapters continue the overarching themes of urban alienation and rural menace, be it via Stephen Poliakoff’s conspiratorial ‘Hidden City’ (1987) or the vampiric entities in the truly unique independent film ‘Nadja’ (1994).
‘Threshold Tales’, then, is a consistently fascinating and in-depth read, offering new insights and an overarching context and thread to what might at first appear disparate or unconnected films, books and cultural media. As with previous publications, it serves as an excellent jumping off point for exploring some of the creations written about in and focused upon within the book, as well as a guide to return to, having sat and watched, listened to or read. Prince’s writing is equal parts approachable and immersive, inviting us to notice similarities and connections, resonances, and echoes between different works – whether it’s in tone or mood, or perhaps developing from a similar set of influences. Highly recommended, as are all things A Year In The Country, which is fast becoming a reference library for the haunted generation.

‘A Year In The Country – Lost Transmissions’ by Stephen Prince
The A Year In The Country imprint continues its deep dive and submersion into matters both hauntological and folkloric with its new publication ‘Lost Transmissions’, following on from previous collections ‘Wandering Through Spectral Fields’, ‘Straying From The Pathways’ and ‘Cathode Rays and Celluloid Hinterlands’, each a thorough (and essential) exploration of spooked, strange and often dystopian British culture. Known for the ongoing website of the same name that collates and examines cultural artifacts both past and recent, from obscure acid folk recordings to proto-electronic BBC Workshop styled experimentation (as well as the more spectral or occult UK TV programmes and films of previous eras), A Year In The Country also have an extensive back catalogue of music themselves, both under their own name and as compilers of various themed collections that featured the likes of Sproatly Smith, The Heartwood Institute, and The Rowan Amber Mill. Each of these hidden treasures can be found at their Bandcamp page, alongside their other publications and novellas; all are fascinating, carefully curated and assembled, and emphasise the blend of folk, psychedelia, electronica and haunted culture that was prevalent throughout the 1970s and 80s, and which still rears its esoteric head at points today.

With ‘Lost Transmissions’, Stephen Prince (the creative figure behind A Year In The Country), sets out his stall with the book’s subtitle; ‘Dystopic Visions, Alternate Realities, Paranormal Quests and Exploratory Electronica’ – the chapters and themes are subsequently set out in these subdivisions, though there is a connection, a crossover and undercurrent that pulses between and links each one. Written during the Covid pandemic, there is a held awareness of the cultural responses of a crumbling or traumatised society at times of such turbulence; indeed, many of the 1970’s or 80’s hauntological touchstones such as ‘The Changes’ or ‘Doomwatch’ emerged from a period of political unrest, blackouts, strikes and economic uncertainty. The opening chapter (a significant potion of the book), which details the (mostly) lost or wiped TV series ‘Leap In The Dark’, highlights how an interest in matters occult or paranormal seems to arise at a time of spiritual crisis or instability in society, for example, in the 1970s when the utopian promises of the swinging 60s were seen to have failed and our politicians offered little comfort or hope. This was witnessed in the rise of such popular publications as ‘Man, Myth and Magic’, in media interest in instances of modern, suburban witchcraft (seen in the 1971 documentary ‘Secret Rites’) and, ultimately, in programmes such as ‘Leap In The Dark’. Prince draws many interesting observations and concepts from why such interests seem to peak at different eras, before rescinding and fading again when such instincts or preoccupations become overdone or commercialised, with the generation that was drawn to them aging and naturally moving on. This reader couldn’t help but draw a comparison with the welcome but near saturation of folk horror and folklore-based publications at present, as well as numerous deliberate attempts to capture this ‘genre’ in film, literature and in popular or academic conferences. Prince refers to ‘the haunted generation’, a term coined by writer Bob Fischer to describe those who grew up during the 1970s and 80s and who absorbed (and were therefore potentially haunted by) these cultural oddities. Perhaps there is such a draw for a generation of adults at present, and those younger, to hark back to more nature-based themes, to cinema such as ‘The Wicker Man’, television such as ‘Children of the Stones’, or to more land-based, folkloric fascinations such as standing stones, during this current post-Covid era of Brexit, with its spiralling cost of living and climate fear? Are we living through one of these times of spiritual crisis and our particular cultural interests and fascination are perhaps reflecting this? Will future generation be ‘haunted’ by growing up with Covid adverts on television, or featured in posters pasted up in public spaces? This is one of ‘Lost Transmissions’ great strengths, in that it is a rich jumping off point for a wealth of questions or reflections, and it takes cultural artefacts such as ‘Leap In The Dark’ as a basis for examining wider permutations in society. Additionally, it quite simply also provides a perfect referral or guide for seeking out some of these lost broadcasts and programmes, with ‘Leap In The Dark’ itself featuring luminaries such as occult writer Colin Wilson as a sometime presenter, and with later fictionalised stories from the likes of Alan Garner, Fay Weldon and David Rudkin all touching on supernatural or paranormal themes, and now reintroduced to a new generation via Prince’s writing.

Similarly, the chapter ’77 Posters…The Phantasmagoric World of Polish Film Posters and Other Celluloid Alternate Realities’ is an invitation to search out some of the images that are beautifully described, again with a strong sense of the context and history in which they were conceived (during the censorious Russian occupation), as well as the films that occupy this strange alternate/parallel hinterland and troubled era (such as ‘The Man Who Haunted Himself’). These posters exert their influence throughout the generations, such as on the artwork of album releases by Ghost Box Records, and the movies exist as a reflection upon a fractured society and the consequent pull towards a speculative or supernatural reading of events. The following chapter on the electronica of the Lothian based Boards of Canada also reflects on the ‘past informing the present’ (a refrain used in one of their songs), and the establishing of hauntology as a loose genre that uses the sounds and imprints of the past in modern ways to invoke a curious nostalgia; for something that may never have existed as such, but which draws on our innate sense of time, place and the oft (haunted or sepia tinted) emotions that these illicit. There is a theme here, perhaps more explicit than in previous A Year In The Country writings, of the human need or inclination towards these forms of expression or creation when we might otherwise feel unanchored in historical time and space. Chapters on the musical work of Finder’s Keepers record label impresario Andy Votel, Burial, Paul Weller’s work with Ghost Box Records and Cumbria’s The Heartwood Institute also investigate their incursions into the hauntological arena, and the connections and early reference points that join the dots between these and similar projects.

Dystopian cinema such as ‘Gattaca’ (1997), ‘Rollerball’ and ‘Three Days of The Condor’ (both 1975) are also examined, with the earlier films and their paranoia, distrust of power and conspiratorial narratives a potential reaction to the recent, failed hippie dream of the previous decade. Nigel Kneale’s bleak and prophetic ‘The Year of the Sex Olympics’ (1968) and the prescient ‘Death Watch’ (1980) also offer a foundation for analysis, of the past foretelling of an authoritarian future with a distinct lack of personal privacy, and our lives offered up for entertainment to the subdued masses, all from which some might conjecture that we are at least partly already there.
The A Year In The Country bibliography is becoming a wide and integral repository and reference point for much of the unusual, supernatural and generally wyrd aspects of (mostly) English culture over the last five decades. But these are no simple books of lists, or a dry academic exercise, instead there is a passionate sense of research and investigation, an interrogation of these artefacts and their connection to each other, and their meaning or influence as reflected upon society as a whole. Hugely readable and immersive, whilst remaining thought provoking, questioning and philosophical about these particular strands of music, cinema or television, ‘Lost Transmissions’ comes highly recommended for anyone who has ever delved into the worlds of spooked vintage television, the writings of Alan Garner and Nigel Kneale, or the sounds of Broadcast or the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. The book itself comes with a suggested Spotify playlist featuring some of the artists mentioned in the text, as well as others who form a part of the same haunted landscape.
(Above: The Trappist Afterland & Grey Malkin’s The Trappist & The Hare album artwork, originally released on CD with this artwork by Reverb Worship in 2020.)
Grey Malkin has an extensive back catalogue of music which he has released and/or co-released under, amongst others, the names Widow’s Weeds, The Hare And The Moon and Meadowsilver, alongside him having collaborated with, again amongst others, Trappist Afterland, Kitchen Cynics and Fogroom.
His work has often included a contemporary take and exploration of the “wyrd” side of folk rock and acid/psych folk but has also at times incorporated elements of such things alongside exploring other genres, themes, atmospheres etc.
One example of this “cross pollination” is the 2020 album The Trappist & The Hare, which was a collaboration between Grey Malkin working under his own name and The Trappist Afterland; if you should imagine some far off hill where 16 Horse Power have recovened and echoes of their work meet and intertwine with a Coil-esque “hidden reverse” and shades of neofolk, while off in the distance sounds of Appalachian folk drift in on the wind then you might be heading vaguely in the direction of this album.
It is both traditional and experimental and while having an in part contemporary character it also seems to draw from some indefinable past, alongside which it contains a subtle undercurrent of darkness and unsettledness and is intriguing work that does not give up its secrets easily.
The Trappist & The Hare is available digitally at The Hare And The Moon and also the Trappist Afterland’s Bandcamp pages.