One of the most exciting – and, typically, underappreciated – pop acts of the 2010s was Man Without Country, the welsh duo of Tomas Greenhalf and Ryan James. Beginning in 2011, they released a series of truly outstanding singles – including King Complex, Inflammable Heart, Puppets, Migrating Clay Pigeon, Closet Addicts Anonymous and Entropy Pt. 1 – crowned by two dazzling albums, Foe (2012) and Maximum Entropy (2015). i wrote a short appreciation of their work back in 2013, since when it’s been a real shame to see, following the duo’s split and James continuing alone, that the ingenuity and essence of Man Without Country has dissipated, with a third album, Infinity Mirror, bearing little resemblance to their former glory. However, back during those halcyon days the duo recorded a Daytrotter Session, featuring superb live performances of four of their best songs.

‘Clipped Wings’ is a dark track lamenting a violent yet necessary act of separation: “I murdered you but it was humane / I put you to sleep so you’d feel no pain” leading to “Recurring nightmares / I wake in cold sweat”. The song has the duo’s typical mix of brisk, driving pace with James’ brooding delivery occasionally letting loose impassioned outbursts. The middle 8 is particularly cutting, breaking out of the song’s pattern to dismissively proclaim, “Your last words will become more famous than you / Your last words will be written on your tombstone”.
‘Puppets’ is one of MWC’s fastest songs, James adopting a breathy approach in the verses, with more than a hint of malevolence, unleashed at the arpeggio-drenched chorus: “You’re nothing more than a prisoner / In this place that you call home / The inability to think for yourself / Is all you’ve ever known”. That malevolence comes to the fore in verse two, where in this live version everything stops except for the bass and the vocals, making them even more dark and forceful. However, there’s an implied glee, even mockery, in the lyrics’ denunciation of manipulation and mindless conformity, conveyed through the upbeat, shining tone of the synths, and the whooping, wordless middle 8.
‘Migrating Clay Pigeon’ has one of the most exciting intros of all MWC’s songs, a deep rising bass phrase (which runs through the verses) growing ominously from the depths. In this Daytrotter version, this is extended and given a sawtooth snarl. One of the things i love most about this song is its sense of tempo: the beats (particularly the hi-hat) make it seem fast, but focus on James’ vocals and he’s actually moving at half this apparent speed, giving extra weight and measure to his words, here flecked with extra bursts of electronic acid. The song contains another highly critical set of observations, but it has the most unusual apex, where dystopian dread is fashioned into one of the duo’s most radiant choruses: “Fear the cold exteriors / Tall shadows, Surveillance / Fear the scent, the lukewarm breath / Clench your toes and bite your tongue”. i also love the title of this track, such an unlikely title for any pop song but wonderfully poetic, suggesting notions of flight and freedom made null through falsehood and an inevitable fall to earth.
The artificiality of clay also makes its presence felt in ‘Claymation’, one of MWC’s most punchy and powerful tracks. The forces at play are more than unusually varied, and sharply conflicted: floaty, dancing synth arpeggios contrasting with weighty, even leaden beats and bass, while James’ vocals, a sublime mix of song and breath, by turns brood and soar. Furthermore, here too there’s the impression of a song at two different speeds, with the lyrics again moving slower than they seem. Even though there’s a chord sequence underpinning the verses and choruses, nonetheless a dronal quality permeates ‘Claymation’, making its apparent movement seem appropriately phony, reinforcing the song’s confused perspective – “Don’t mistake the deer for the headlights” – and infection of make-believe truths: “But in the absence of a white blood cell / We’ll start to believe what we tell ourselves”.
All four live versions stay true to what makes the originals as brilliant as they are, while bringing something new and fresh to each interpretation. It’s worth pointing out that while i’ve quoted a few lyrics above – trusting a mixture of Genius and my own ears (Spotify’s attempts to resolve the words are risible) – one of the things that typifies Man Without Country’s songs is the fascinating obscurity of James’ highly poetic lyrics, in terms of both meaning and audibility.
As with all the Daytrotter Sessions, they were originally released as free MP3s. Since they were taken over by Paste Magazine, the download links are buried in HTML code (they clearly believe listeners only want to stream), but here’s a link to snag the entire session.

And when you’ve savoured these excellent live versions, i highly recommend checking out the even more outstanding originals, as well as the entirety of Man Without Country’s early output, some of the finest pop you’ll ever hear.
These guys completely passed me by…and I used to subscribe to the Daytrotter updates! Intrigued by what I heard so far, thanks for the tip.
i think they passed lots of people by Jeremy – enjoy!