This may have been Jimmy Campbell's album, but in reality it was Michael Snow's baby, and the set's wistful and whimsical aura, delicate atmospheres, and lovely simplicity are all down to him. Tied to a three record deal, Campbell begrudgingly laid down the tracks for his final solo set with little care or concern, running through new and old songs accompanied only by his own, ofttimes out of tune acoustic guitar. At a loss, Campbell's manager handed the tapes to Snow in hopes of him conjuring up something that Campbell's label would accept. Snow enlisted RKO arranger Ron Carthy and a pair of Rockin' Horses to help, and set to work cleaning up the tapes, creating arrangements for the songs, and recording them. The result is no masterpiece, but does beautifully encapsulate Campbell's essence. A feted songwriter with a fragile delivery, and a lyrical pen that gave remarkable voice to a quirky world view, in many ways Jimmy Campbell's Album is far truer to Campbell's own vision than his previous more glossily produced solo sets. Snow couldn't erase all the imperfections, of course, but his and Carthy's extremely effective arrangements, the Horses' sympathetic backings, and the stripped back production still manage to undo most of Campbell's self-inflicted wounds, creating a delicate album that emphasizes the singer/songwriter's strengths. Which is far more than the artist expected or deserved. And while you're listening, Mark Johnstone's excellent liner notes not only conjure up the mood of the day, they also help you understand why Campbell was, and (sadly posthumously) remains one of the most fascinating talents of his early-'70s era.