With a CV ranging from Tindersticks to the techno indulgences of his New Jackson alter-ego, Irish musician David Kitt is a peculiarly protean talent whose bowstrings clearly thrum with diverse ideas. A deeper insight into the links between mother and son comes in a hand-written note prefacing the poems, wherein she claims, “The happy and enduring things do not evoke or provoke poetry” – a belief borne out in the pervasively melancholy, elegiac tone of her work, unerringly locating the darker shadows of a situation.ĭownload: Still Don’t Know Made It Mine Cause For Leaving Song Of Two Birds The previously released album of 19 songs is augmented here by another handful delivered in similar manner, with Molly’s self-effacing vocals set to simple piano arrangements: an exercise in understatement so quintessentially British you can all but smell the cucumber sandwiches and freshly mown lawn.īut as the poems attest, hers was a life minutely examined, including alongside wartime experiences in Burma some intriguing observations of her son Nick – who, aged three, posited that a violet “didn’t smell sweet/ It smelt yellow”. Sumptuously presented in a 200-page hardback book with two CDs, The Tide’s Magnificence collects together the entirety of Molly Drake’s literary and musical output, captured in the Fifties by her husband on early tape recorders. But at the album’s heart is a core of steel best summarised in the line, “I am my sister, and I fight like a girl”: not a weakness, but a warning.ĭownload: Happiness I Remember Poor Mum Night Is My Friend The punchy one-word titles are sustained throughout, although the focus shifts elsewhere: “Go” aches with poignant inevitability, as a parent waves reluctant farewell to their child and “Face” confronts the masochistic torture of following an old flame’s hi-jinks on Facebook. Likewise, the boyfriend who broke her heart is not lamented or maligned in “Guitar”, but given a certain backhanded gratitude because he “armed me with three chords”. The former’s ruminations on the paths not taken – “things lost and might-have-beens” – are summarily dispelled by the latter’s joyous affirmation of the strength gained by swimming against the tide, by being “too tall, all wrong deep voice, headstrong”.
Her first album of new material in seven years finds Tracey Thorn in feisty form, bashing out “nine feminist bangers” with a relish reflected in the confident, striding electropop settings of tracks like “Queen” and “Air”. The lush opacity becomes claustrophobic over his eight-minute default track length: though frequently sweet and beautiful, one’s ultimately left like Heliogabalus, drowned in rose petals. The major problem, though, concerns the sheer sonic density of what Wilson calls his new “maximalist” approach, in which up to 150 parts are blended into a single song. to incite hope, positivity, longing, reckless abandon and regret”. In large part a break-up album, Rare Birds finds Wilson picking through the romantic embers and taking tentative steps forward, over arrangements reflecting both his recent position in Roger Waters’s touring band and his need for healing – or as he describes it, “psychedelic gossamer-winged music. But a minute in, it suddenly hardens into a pumping prog-funk groove slashed with scarified noise – another beast entirely.
Opening with a languid, miasmic whirl of acoustic guitar and ambient sounds, the intro to “Trafalgar Square” suggests that Rare Birds will be another relaxed offering of the Laurel Canyon retro-folk-rock style that Jonathan Wilson helped revive on previous albums. Download: Over The Midnight Rare Birds 49 Hairflips Living With Myself
0 kommentar(er)
