Good Woman feels like two-thirds of a masterpiece: After a two-year break, The Staves have poured all their past experiences into their new album
The Staves Good Woman Out now
John Mayall The First Generation 1965-1974 Out now
Rating: 
There are, for some reason, no rock bands in the plays of Anton Chekhov. But if there were one, it would surely be Watford’s finest folk-pop harmonisers, The Staves. Three sisters, elegant and intelligent: they’re a drama waiting to happen.
And there’s no shortage of plot. The Staveley-Taylors could have made a break-up album, after Camilla (the youngest) crossed oceans to be with a man who treated her badly.
But they’ve had more to cope with than mere heartbreak. They lost their mother, Jean, and then Emily (the eldest) gave birth to a daughter. Life was imitating The Staves’ best-known song, Dead & Born & Grown.
Watford’s finest folk-pop harmonisers, The Staves . Three sisters (above from left, Camilla, Jessica and Emily), elegant and intelligent: they’re a drama waiting to happen
After a two-year break, they’ve poured all this experience into Good Woman. Now in their 30s, the sisters are older and bolder. At one point Camilla sings: ‘I could blow the f****** windows out.’
The line is delivered with The Staves’ usual finesse, so it’s rather like finding graffiti in your aunt’s conservatory.
The music gets tough too: one song begins with a grungy guitar. A new producer, John Congleton, is making The Staves sound more like three other sisters – Haim. The first four tracks are muscular but middling.
Then there’s a Simon and Garfunkel-ish ballad, Nothing’s Gonna Happen, with Jessica singing lead. The three voices meet their match in three instruments – cornet, tenor horn and bass clarinet – that bring the gorgeous glow of a tiny brass band.
Suddenly The Staves are themselves again. On Paralysed, Sparks and Trying, their rasping lyrics are fitted to radiant melodies. By the end, Good Woman feels like two-thirds of a masterpiece.
Guitarist John Mayall has long been known as the godfather of the British blues. Now, aged 87, he has released the mother of all boxed sets. It costs £250-300, so it may leave you broke, but you won’t be stuck for something to do.
There’s a hardback book to read, posters to put up, a signed photo to frame, and 35 discs to listen to, eight of them unreleased. It’s a handsome document of a fabulous career.