Category Archives: singer songwriter

RINGO STARR – Ringo 2012

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Ringo 2012While Ringo Starr’s solo works have rarely gained the accolades of his former Beatle bandmates, many of his releases feature some great songs.  Never more was this more obvious than on 2003’s excellently titled ‘Ringo Rama’, 2008’s ‘Liverpool 8’ and 2010’s ‘Y Not’, for what they represent, are albums (almost) beyond criticism.  These albums – which are awash with tight, yet often unimposing arrangements, bolstered by autobiographical nuggets and themes of peace and love – deserve a place in the collection of any true Beatles fans.

In theory, ‘Ringo 2012’ – remarkably, Starr’s seventeenth outing – offers more of the same.  Sadly however, this time around, Mr. Starkey appears to be firmly on autopilot, on what is a short outing by most people’s standards, clocking in at just twenty nine minutes.  That, in itself, isn’t necessarily a problem, but ‘Ringo 2012’is also subject to a fair amount of what could be considered padding.  Ringo brings only five brand new songs to the table; the rest of the disc is filled with two re-recordings and two covers (one of which was released in identical form in 2011).

Despite the makeshift feel of this release, if you can take the songs at face value, ‘Ringo 2012’ is a fine enough record, though never really outstanding by any stretch of the imagination. ‘Anthem’ returns to a well-worn theme as Starr sings of peace and love, peace and love… While his instantly recognisable tones feel like a return of an old friend or a comfortable pair of shoes, maybe things are just that little bit too comfortable.  Musically, we’re presented with a marching beat – so distinctly the work of Ringo – over which jangly guitars call out slightly jagged chords.  Such a solid arrangement could make a good opening statement, but once Starr starts to sing “This is an anthem of peace and love”, it has to be asked if Ringo couldn’t have come up with something less predictable.  There’s nowt wrong with wanting peace and love, but with Ringo, it feels like he’s labouring a point now.  The same topic was tackled in a vastly superior fashion on his 2010 track ‘Peace Dream’, using a much nicer lyric and melody.

The lightweight blues-rocker ‘Slow Down’ is also okay but nothing special, despite sometime Eagles man Joe Walsh’s attempts to tear it up on slide guitar. Best described as workmanlike, it trots out the kind of mid-pace that Ringo is best at, while his voice occasionally gets a little lost with its lack of edge.  There’s something slightly amiss: maybe it could have been a little faster, maybe it needed a better hook, maybe more needed to be made of the organ part lurking in the back…  Whatever, you’ve also heard Ringo do this kind of thing better, many times.  ‘Wonderful’ pootles along in a sub-Wilbury style, with its mix of acoustic and electric guitars backed by old style organ.  Ringo adopts his usual optimism, while the rest of the band do their best to make his lyric nice and buoyant. Again, it’s not much more than Ringo Starr by numbers – especially for those familiar with the man’s previous couple of albums – but even so, an enjoyable lead guitar line and chirpy chorus make it worth almost four minutes’ listening time.  ‘Samba’, on the other hand, drenched as it is in Hawaiian style guitar work and accordions, has a general air of syrupiness and is just horrible.  There is no other word which fits the bill; it’s just horrible.  Some of the music sounds like tape that’s been warped – though this is probably not the case, it’s more likely the work of too many layers at once.  Bad music combined with Starr’s limited vocal, there are no redeeming features here:  simply put, it’s one of Starr’s worst post-eighties recordings.

On the previous albums, Ringo’s autobiographical cuts have been a high-point, and so it remains the same here.  There’s something utterly charming about such numbers, and while Starr could be accused of trotting out another tried and tested idea, there’s still that extra something which makes it endearing.  The guitars adopt another sharp, ringing tone as Starr tells us “in Liverpool the sun always shone in his mind” while recounting a tale of his old childhood gang and bunking off school.  A simple rumpty-tumpty passes for a tune – severely lacking the funkiness of ‘Y Not’s ‘The Other Side of Liverpool’ – and lyrically, although it’s not as heart-warming as ‘Liverpool 8’, it hits the goal it sets out to score.   Overall, it represents what Starr is best at; uncomplicated music coupled with an uncomplicated sentiment.

The two re-recorded numbers are surprisingly good – though good in this case is relative, since newly written songs would still have been preferable.   A track originally featured on ‘Ringo’ [Starr’s relatively popular 1973 elpee], ‘Step Lightly’ appears here in a superbly moody variation, where a warming bass and some old fashioned electric piano lines are a near perfect compliment for Starr’s slightly woozy voice.  In terms of arrangement, it’s similar to the 1973 cut, but replacing the clarinets and oompah horns with something more blues oriented proves a much better, much classier choice.  It’s one of the album’s sure-fire winners: certainly something which makes ‘Ringo 2012’ worth checking out.  Likewise, the re-jigged ‘Wings’ (originally from Starr’s 1977 flop ‘Ringo The 4th’) is enjoyable with its reggae chops, female harmonies and brass fills.  The sharper band and arrangement make the late 70s version sound flat and demo-like in comparison.  While artists revisiting old works to improve them can sometimes be disastrous (Kate Bush’s ‘Director’s Cut’ being a glaring example of such empty vanity), with this pair of tunes, Starr has made the right decision, since with his band of arguably superior musical chums in tow, these tunes have been re-worked for the better.

As for the covers, the Buddy Holly track is endearing but ultimately inessential (once again, though, Ringo and co sound like they’re having fun, and in lots of ways, that’s what Ringo’s solo career has always been about), but a cover of the old chestnut ‘Rock Island Line’ suits Ringo rather well (certainly much better than it suits Graham Bonnet!).  On this Leadbelly standard, with his steady drum pace and equally steady vocal, he sounds perfectly at ease, as if he’s played the song a thousand times (and probably has).  Augmented by some great slide guitar, a more than worthy solo and lovely bar-room piano, it’s a good, solid number.  Although nothing too out of the ordinary, it has to be said, at the centre, there’s the sound of Starr and his chums enjoying what they do, and even Starr’s most vocal detractors would be mean to deny him that.

It’s easy to feel short-changed by ‘Ringo 2012’ (certainly on the first few plays, at least).  While there’s some enjoyable material to be heard (and the re-recorded ‘Step Lightly’ has a very pleasing arrangement), this release feels like a total rush job – especially compared to a few of his previous efforts.  Being an ex-Beatle and certainly not having to attract an audience, you could argue that Ringo is Ringo and can do what he likes; however most would probably find it hard not to agree with the idea that even Ringo can do better, even after taking on board some of the album’s best moments.  Regardless of its patchwork quality, if you’ve dug Ringo’s output from the nineties and beyond, ‘Ringo 2012’ is still worth investing in, though…but only if the price is right.  For everyone else, the best advice is to give this a miss and give ‘Ringo Rama’ and ‘Liverpool 8’ a listen with an open mind instead.

February 2012

BILL DeMAIN – Extended Stay EP

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Extended Stay EPBy the end of 2011, Bill DeMain had already released nine albums as one half of Swan Dive (a band who’s 2009 release ‘Mayfair’ featured several co-writes with cult singer-songwriter David Mead), but surprisingly, this 2012 EP marks his first foray into recording as a solo artist.  The release of ‘Extended Stay’ comes at the end of a distinctly wobbly time for the Nashville singer-songwriter, first having his home flooded – losing various irreplaceable notebooks in the process – followed by losing that home entirely due to a fire; a fire which lost him 80% of his belongings.  The title and suitcase adorning the sleeve represent the bohemian existence DeMain was forced to adopt for a year following the disasters.

Given the events which preceded the EP’s release, you might think ‘Extended Stay’ would be a soul-searching, perhaps even naval-gazing, downbeat affair. Yes, it’s largely structured around pieces written for acoustic guitar or piano and yes, in places, there’s often a focus on the lyrics; it’s even possible to say most of the tunes have a softness and reflective quality uniting them, yet somehow it rarely feels like a down release.

The main hook from the opening cut works around its title, ‘Looking for a Place to Live’, yet bizarrely, the lyric pre-dates the fire.  DeMain’s soft wocal style weaves a pleasant melody against an equally lovely finger-picked guitar, as the time signature is laid out in a foot-tapped rhythm (not unlike McCartney’s well-worn composition ‘Blackbird’).  That’s enough to make the tune work on its own merits, but as it progresses, DeMain brings in some harmony voices, a cello and electric piano to fill out the arrangement.  In all, it’s one of the EP’s most enduring cuts.  Need another incentive to check out this tune?  It’s co-written with another Nashville musician, Daniel Tashian, who is one of the finest pop writers of his age; in fact, ‘Chateau Revenge!’, the 2010 release from Tashian’s band The Silver Seas ranks among the finest retro-pop/power pop releases ever.   Although retaining an acoustic backbone, ‘St. Joes ’75’ has a more flippant mood, coming as it does with more than a dash of rhythmic inspiration from Bowie’s ‘John, I’m Only Dancing’, before morphing into something that sounds like T.Rex reworking an idea from Brian Wilson.  DeMain sounds solid vocally and the acoustic work provides a good basis, but for that all-round 1970s feel  – which it’s obvious DeMain is striving for – the saxophone is key.  There are plenty of saxes throughout these three-and-a-half minutes, pushed high in the overall mix; at times the sax work appears jaunty, at others, just a little too obtrusive.  As a disposable piece of glam-tinged pop it works well enough, though its religious bent mightn’t be well received by all.

Perhaps the EP’s best tune overall, ‘Common Love Song’ combines guitar and piano on a mid-paced arrangement which has a McCartney-ish air.  More specifically, it’s a number which could have graced any number of Wings albums in the 70s.  After what sounds like it could’ve been a false start, DeMain’s smooth vocal calls out gently above a drum beat and simple piano chords.  This would have been a good enough number as is, but a ringing guitar on the chorus gives things a slight lift.  To hammer home the seventies-ness (and the track’s only real weak link), some ugly, unquestionably dated keyboards fill a space which could have been better filled by a tasteful guitar solo.  There’s a fine line between cool and retro and trying too hard…and DeMain comes dangerously close to crossing that line here, but since most of ‘Common Love Song’ sounds like an almost classic piece of singer songwriter pop, he can be excused!

The rest of the EP takes on an often more subtle vibe.  ‘In Your Letter’ offers a very interesting piano melody, over which DeMain’s vocal is fairly saccharine, but totally sympathetic to the mood.  As with ‘Looking For a Place to Live’, it’s the addition of strings which really gives the tune strength.  Vocally, however, there’s nothing striking here – though perhaps “obviously striking” was never DeMain’s intention; even the best cuts on this EP can take a few spins before they start to take a hold.  More analog synths appear in the middle of ‘Honeylove’, an otherwise sweet acoustic ditty.  Short and simple, it’s DeMain’s vocal which really carries this song.  As a standalone track, it may not feel like much, but as part of the complete picture, it’s another good example of DeMain’s gentle touch as a songwriter.  ‘In Your Letter’ and ‘Honeylove’ definitely don’t hold as much magic as some of the better tunes here, but it’s unlikely you’ll find the urge to skip either of them.

With its hint of New York and Randy Newman, ‘Raggedy Man’ (a co-write with David Mead) is reminiscent of parts of Mark Bacino’s ‘Queens English’.  As a piano and kazoo lead their way through a well constructed but – on the surface – somewhat childlike arrangement, it’s hard not to feel that DeMain isn’t channelling Newman’s often untrustworthy narrator.  For those who’ve always enjoyed things in such a style, it’ll almost certainly have a little charm, especially for those who’ve followed Swan Dive’s works.

‘Extended Stay’ isn’t a bad EP by any means, not bad at all, but in a few places it lacks that extra spark.  So far into a cult career, it’s great that DeMain has felt the need to stretch his legs and explore a few (slightly) different musical avenues, but, with the sheer amount of singer-songwriter material out there just waiting to be discovered, this is a release which feels like a solid collection filler as opposed to the essential item it could have been.

January 2012

BRENDAN BENSON – My Old, Familiar Friend

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The gap between the release of Brendan Benson’s underrated third full length, 2006’s ‘Alternative To Love’ and 2009’s ‘My Old, Familiar Friend’ seemed far longer than three years.  It’s not like Benson hadn’t kept himself busy in the interim, of course, since after the release of ‘The Alternative To Love’, he recorded with Jack White as part of The Raconteurs.

‘My Old, Familiar Friend’, his fourth solo release (recorded in 2007, between the two Raconteurs albums, but not released until August 2009), in places, treads some very familiar ground. Benson chooses to bring little to no influence from his stints with the Raconteurs to the table, marking a very distinct difference between that band and his solo releases.  Whereas The Raconteurs provides Benson with an excuse to be a little edgy, ‘My Old, Familiar Friend’ celebrates his many 70s power-pop influences and, in places, proves a much smoother listening experience than the bulk of his previous solo outings. Aptly titled, this album feels like a familiar friend even upon early listens. If anything though, Brendan sounds more confident than ever before, with the quirky, disjointed elements of his ‘One Mississippi’ debut left far behind.

The first couple of tracks could have been slotted in somewhere on Benson’s earlier outings, but that’s not to say they’re not memorable at all, in fact, the opening track ‘A Whole Lot Better’, is quite the opposite.  It begins with some great old fashioned keyboard fuzz, before breaking into a decent slab of upbeat pop rock.  The drumming is especially tight and the guitars give the piece plenty of drive, but it’s the bass and keyboards which are the most striking.  Throughout the four minutes, the track is coloured by lots of early eighties keyboard work – the kind that any number of power pop bands from the period – Shoes, Paul Collins’ Beat, 20/20 et al – would have been more than proud to showcase.  That bassline though – upfront and jaunty – is absolutely glorious.  Once Benson throws in a couple of hooks, the most notable coming in somewhere toward the end, the track proves to be a more than solid opening statement.  ‘Eyes On The Horizon’, meanwhile, is a little more laid back, led by some great electric piano.  The mid-paced pop/rock ditty allows Benson more room vocally and his distinctive (and slightly treated vocal) fits the arrangement very well.  Once again, the chorus is a winner, but it’s in very much a tried and tested formula and will strike a familiar chord with those familiar with Benson’s previous releases.

It’s upon first hearing of ‘Garbage Day’ you’ll realise that this album is something special. A retro tune, it could be seen as a power pop take on 60s soul, being led by punchy rhythms and fleshed out by strings.  The snare drum lays down a steady beat, under which the very warm bass guitar and electric piano pick up the bulk of the arrangement.  There are hints of acoustic and electric guitars throughout, but the track could have almost worked entirely without them.  For a man with a voice far from smooth at times, Benson lends a suitably restrained vocal, too.  In all, a definite album high point – maybe even a career high point.   ‘Gonowhere’ is similarly polished, but far more in the singer songwriter mould.  The late 70s keyboards would be enough to make Greg Hawkes smile, although they’re in a style which may not appeal to all.  The piano adds some great flourishes, while a harmony filled chorus has a certain level of subtlety which means it registers far later than some of the other hooks present on this disc.  Within the singer-songwriter stylings and multi-layered arrangement, there are traces of the mighty Todd Rundgren and maybe even a dash of Jeff Lynne, but it’s all served in Benson’s own sense of style.

‘Feel Like Taking You Home’ brings the album’s only real curve-ball. Nowhere as smooth as previous tracks, there are definite new wave influences at play, which possibly owes much to the fact the arrangement is almost guitarless.  The focus – like ‘Eyes On The Horizon’ and ‘Gonowhere’ – is totally on the keyboards, but unlike the aforementioned tracks there’s a tension and all round edginess building throughout.  Interestingly, parts of the vocal melody are reminiscent of The Raconteurs’ ‘Broken Boy Soldiers’ but that’s as far as any comparison between any of Benson’s solo work and his band activity goes.  ‘You Made a Fool Out of Me’, an acoustic-based track, at first shows the harsh edges in Brendan’s vocal style, but before long a piano and strings flesh out the arrangement.  It’s a nicely written piece which has hints of Mike Viola during his more reflective moments.  It doesn’t really stretch into any unexpected territory beyond it’s opening, and compared to a few other choice cuts on ‘My Old, Familiar Friend’ it isn’t quite as essential listening, but at just three and a half minutes it doesn’t outstay its welcome.

‘Misery’ is absolutely classic power pop which could have been from the late 70s/early 80s golden period, leading to a tune which could have been part of the Nick Lowe back catalogue. Clanky guitar chords, a pounding drum and a layer of organ open the tune in style, before falling away to make room for Benson’s lead vocal.  The verses are relatively ordinary, but once the chorus chimes in with British Invasion influences followed by fantastic ‘doo doo’ vocal, it becomes instantly loveable.   ‘Poised and Ready’ offers another slice of classic drum-led pop/rock with all the relevent key changes; imagine Jellyfish’s noisiest side meeting a pre-county music Ben Kweller and you get the picture. The drum sound is crisp, the pianos hard-struck, the staccato rhythms all adding up to a track dripping with attitude.  You’ll have heard it all before by this point, naturally, but it still brings plenty of power pop thrills.

The Jellyfish influences carry through even farther on ‘Don’t Wanna Talk’ with its marching on the spot feel and ‘la la la’ choruses.  This is a stupidly infectious tune, and Benson knows it, with its simplicity being its greatest strength.  Each of the musicians brings something to the table: the drums provide the backbone, but looking at the smaller details, there’s some great rhythm guitar work and more organ hiding the back of what eventually becomes a very busy mix.  Brendan is not responsible for your singing this on the bus or in the supermarket; play this track at your own peril.

Rounding out the album, neither ‘Lesson Learned’ or ‘Borrow’ show any sign of slacking off or being consigned to the “filler material” file.  ‘Lesson Learned’s simple arrangement and electric piano have a certain retro cool, which when matched with Benson’s relaxed vocal style sounds very effective, especially once a few harmonies creep in.  ‘Borrow’ meanwhile, finishes the album with a mid-paced number full of jangling guitars and quirky keyboards.  Similarly to the way ‘My Old, Familiar Friend’ began, the mood is similar to a lot of the best numbers on Benson’s three previous records, making it a track guaranteed to please a lot of fans.

Eleven songs: all good, most of ’em great, with no filler.  In anyone’s book, that makes for a potential classic.   The best songs on 2002’s ‘Lapalco’ may still represent some of the artist’s strongest work as a songwriter but, as a complete body of work, ‘My Old, Familiar Friend’ could easily be Benson’s most consistent release.  Those unfamiliar  could do far worse than pick up ‘My Old, Familiar Friend’ as a jumping off point, especially since not only does it represent Benson in a superb light, it’s also one of the best power pop records of the late 00’s.  Supposedly, these tracks were culled from a much larger volume of work; if those left behind are anywhere near as good as those which made the final draft, there’s more great listening to be had sometime.

December 2009/January 2012

REBEKAH HIGGS – Odd Fellowship

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Five years in the making, 2011’s ‘Odd Fellowship’ is second solo release (third overall) from Nova Scotia songstress Rebekah Higgs.  Produced by Brian Dreck – best known for production duties with Modest Mouse and Iron & Wine – the record manages to sound full and shiny in places, while remaining relatively clanky and sparse in others.  This range of sounds consistently provides Higgs with a good base from which to weave her sometimes odd, but often strangely compelling vocal melodies.

The guitar driven indie pop of ‘Drunk Love’ provides the best entry point into this second album, as Higgs’s slightly lazy voice sounds fabulous against fuzzy guitars and an almost marching beat.  Ringing lead guitars provide an excellent counterpoint against the bottom end, resulting in something guaranteed to thrill those who love music of an alternative 90s persuasion – Belly, in particular.  Similarly accessible, ‘Youth & Beauty’ is loaded with a pumping bass and almost danceable groove.  That provides enough brilliance to ensure it’s a track which works well enough, but once that’s topped by guitar – introcate on the verses, fuzzy on the chorus – the tune elevates to a new level.  A great example of alternative pop/rock, this track could best be described as a cast off from Rilo Kiley’s ‘Under The Blacklight’ swansong, and as such, it’s easy to see this appealing to fans of that much missed indie-pop outfit.

Elsewhere, things aren’t always so direct – or indeed hook driven – but the results are mostly interesting.   ‘Stick & Poke’ is home to a great example of Higgs’ quirky and occasionally mechanical stylings.  Her multi-tracked voice sounds endearing harmonising with itself; simple but effective, that voice is backed by programmed drums marking time and organ sounds for extra colour.   To avoid the track descending into absolute coldness, a live bass can be heard adding plenty of flair.  By the time the live drums make a belated appearance, the track gathers pace as it motors into the coda.   Here, the band adopts an all round fuller sound which quickens in pace, faster and faster, headlong into a chaotic climax. The repetition of vocals may endear or irritate depending on the listener, but for those heavily into alternative female fronted music, this could have plenty of charm.  The coda is, perhaps just a little too full on – overdone even – but in terms of something which takes the pop core of Dressy Bessy and then spruces that up with deliberate eccentricity, it’s all extremely well executed.

‘Lazy Morning’ brings a minimalist drone punctuated by piano notes.  By the time the chorus rolls around, things flesh out with string sounds and more percussion, pushing Higgs into a similar musical mood to Mirah (only more polished) with a nod to Amanda Palmer (but far less scary).  Higgs’s vocal is hushed – an approach which suits the partly orchestrated musical backdrop. At just over two minutes, it’s brief but doesn’t feel as if it needs to be any longer; no does Higgs sound like an artist attempting to be deliberately out-there.  For its quirks, the end results sound surprisingly natural, providing another decent example of this particular artist’s more experimental side. The electronic ‘Shoop’, on the other hand, could be accused of pushing experimentation too far.  Bleeping keyboards and disjointed rhythms are very much the order of the day.  Lacking anything resembling a likable tune, Higgs’s voice is sampled and looped, repeating the word ‘shoop’ as a vocal punctuation for what feels like forever.  By the time the main part of the song appears, her vocal is in French and sounds almost unfriendly against the jagged and ugly backdrop.  Higgs gets full marks for trying something different but it really, really spoils the flow of the album.

Without question, one of the album’s most endearing tracks is ‘Little Voice’.  Featuring a great, waltzing arrangement led by a stabbed piano, the number teases the listener in an almost carny style (reminiscent of bands on the fringes of the “dark cabaret” movement).  In an almost perfect accompaniment, Higgs’s lead voice commands a presence while remaining slightly whimsical throughout.  Tinking percussion adds plenty of musical accenting throughout, but it’s the wordless backing voices which are sure to leave the strongest lasting impression, heavily filtered to sound like theramins.  There’s not much of a chorus, but the lolloping arrangement carries the piece more than well enough, and it’s the music which feels the most important here.   Perhaps even better still, the pop-edged ‘Gosh, Darn, Damn’ is a slightly sugary piece rooted by a very strong bassline which hints at old soul tunes.  Across nearly four minutes, Higgs’ stylised vocal performance may not appeal to everyone, but she sounds very comfortable.  The main hook is one designed to be infectious, and while the chorus is relatively successful in its quest to stick in your head, it’s the wordless refrain combining vocal and brass which follows providing the most instant gratification.

It’s fair to say that as good as it is, parts of ‘Odd Fellows’ aren’t always designed for mass appeal, but it’s the deliberate contrast between the slightly experimental (‘Stick & Poke’) and the instantly likable (‘Gosh, Darn, Damn’) which gives it strength. As such, those who like things with an interesting female voice should find themselves almost instantly attracted to most of Higgs’s work.  It’s probably not everyday listening for all, but there are enough interesting ideas lurking within to warrant returning to the album on a regular basis.

Purchasing mp3s of ‘Gosh, Darn, Damn’ and ‘Youth & Beauty’ are strongly advised.

January 2012

KATE BUSH – 50 Words For Snow

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For most of her career, in the minds of fans and music journalists alike, Kate Bush has almost been above and beyond criticism.  That’s certainly true of her work up until ‘The Red Shoes’, after which, she disappeared for over a decade.  When she finally re-emerged with the long-awaited ‘Aerial’ in November 2005, most fans were delighted.  The album had a wandering nature and wasn’t always on par with her best work, but it was great to have Kate back.

After that, Kate disappeared yet again.  Six years later, with almost no fanfare – and certainly none of the anticipation surrounding ‘Aerial’ – she released ‘Director’s Cut’, a collection of partially re-recorded tunes from her ‘Sensual World’ and ‘Red Shoes’ albums.  Responses were more than mixed.  While some fans were predictably sycophantic, others were scathing.  This was the first time Kate had received such a negative response in high numbers.   An artist once beyond criticism had released an obviously sub-par work.  What she’d kept almost entirely under wraps, however, was her work on brand spanking new material at the same time.

Not a genuine concept album, but certainly themed, ’50 Words For Snow’ – released almost six years to the day after ‘Aerial’ – had plenty riding on it.  Not only would it need to restore faith in those who’d despised everything ‘Director’s Cut’ stood for, but it also had to equal ‘Aerial’ – ‘Aerial’, of course, being the obvious reference point; since [a] it was Bush’s most recent completely original work, and [b] it would be unreasonable to expect it to reach the heights of Kate’s 80s output – so much time has passed since then.

The first thing that’s notable about the album is its wandering nature.  ‘Aerial’ had its drawn out moments – particularly on the themed second half, but that was nothing compared to ’50 Words For Snow’.  In fact, most of ’50 Words’ is nothing remotely like ‘Aerial’, or anything else in the Kate Bush catalogue – it’s not even like anything you imagine it to be before hearing it.  Presenting just seven songs in over an hour, the album has an epic quality to say the least.  Right from the opening piano chords of ‘Snowflake’, the music represents a cold, wintery quality – much like Tori Amos’s ‘Winter’ had – and as those piano lines roll by, their bleakness pulls in the listener.  For almost ten minutes, this opening number features Kate plus piano, augmented by occasional electronic sounds and an orchestral minimalism providing atmospheric bottom end.  As for percussion, you’ll find that’s at the minimum too – drum rolls occasionally rear up like the wind, but roll away again just as quickly.  Kate’s voice understated and husky – barely the voice which made her fortune – but against such stark arrangements her mumbling style works well.  Any high notes she may have once hit are provided by a youthful choral singer, which too kind of befits the cold and wintery atmospheres.  It’s not like anything Bush has ever recorded before – any layers here are slight, only revealing themselves after a few plays – but ‘Snowflake’ is an intriguing opening statement and one which sustains its ten minute duration surprisingly well.

The beginning of ‘Lake Tahoe’ is horrible. A choir sounds slightly jarring at first and then even more so once a few discordant elements are thrown into the arrangement.  In contrast to the opening track, any peaks – of which there are few – are provided by orchestration as opposed to percussion; that orchestration simple, but breath-taking in places.  The piano playing swells as the track moves it’s slow, snow-filled journey; overall, it’s a much more traditional tune than on ‘Snowflake’,  a tune on which Kate’s voice has a greater presence.  Not even the softest moments of ‘Aerial’ even hint at this kind of ambience.  The only downside is that, despite some lovely moments, ‘Lake Tahoe’ just can’t sustain eleven minutes without sounding like a four minute track that’s been left on repeat.  Later listens do little to change this feeling… Half the length and minus the choir, it could have been one of the album’s better numbers, but in this form, it’s definitely of an acquired taste.

‘Misty’ offers a similar atmosphere to that of ‘Lake Tahoe’, but without the nasty guest vocalists.  That alone makes it far superior… The pianos swirl and the orchestra lulls and Kate paints more lyrical pictures of snow filled landscapes.  This is perhaps the closest ’50 Words’ gets to wholly familiar territory – surely to become a fan favourite.  The jazzy drums and an upright bass lay a gentle backbeat in places against piano lines full of minor keys.  And, most importantly, Bush is in better voice here, never overstretching her now more limited range.  At over thirteen minutes, this is epic in every sense of the word, even reaching a genuine climax in a way that most of ’50 Words For Snow’ threatens but rarely ever does.  One final thought: as superb as this is, can we hear Tori Amos sing this one now? Please?

The second half of the album is rather more upbeat.  The first track released from the album, ‘Wild Man’ changes the mood instantly.  The pianos are gone and, in their place, some dated keyboards provide the basis of the tune.  Luckily, these are balanced out by some lovely acoustic guitar work – one of the only times are guitar comes to prominence.  Kate whispers her vocal, occasionally breaking into actual singing, backed with other voices.  For most people – non-fans especially – this track certainly sounds more like the Kate Bush they’re familiar with.  Although it provides the album with something more immediately accessible, it feels horribly out of place, not unlike like a left-over from 1993’s ‘The Red Shoes’.   As with ‘Lake Tahoe’, there’s a strong feeling of unnecessary padding here too – this four minute tune is dragged out to over seven minutes, severely outstaying its welcome.  Synths sit at the heart of ‘Snowed In At Wheeler Street – another definite high point – but their reverbed sounds only provide a mechanical heart, as opposed to leading the piece in any way.  The basic tune, yet again, comes from the piano, but in some ways any music is secondary to the vocal performances.  Kate hits the heights of her ‘Aerial’ vocal styles – outshining them in places – while on second vocal, Sir Elton John offers a booming, overtly theatrical accompaniment.  He could easily be accused over over-singing, but since the piece demands such an almost ridiculously overwrought performance, he sounds great, particularly as ‘Wheeler Street’ reaches it’s inevitable climax.

What comes next could never have been imagined, even in jest.  The title track could be described as eccentric, but that would only begin to cover it. Over a groove that fuses adult pop/rock with an ambient danceable groove, Kate counts to 50 slowly while Mr Stephen Fry reads out fifty names for snow in corresponding foreign languages.  It works wonderfully thanks to Fry’s distinct tones.  From other artists it may have been considered frivolous – stupid even – but for a woman who has collaborated with Rolf Harris on more than one occasion, it’s all part of the Kate Bush experience.  What the track could have done without, however, it the sung refrain between the blocks of counting.  Kate sings “come on, we’ve got [insert number here] more to go / Come on, tell us your fifty words for snow!”.  This pushes listener goodwill a bit too far.  Eccentric is fine, but deliberately bonkers just ends up sounding a bit desperate.  Aside from this faux pas, the music is great, with theeight and a half minutes feeling surprisingly brisk.  Bring our journey full circle, ‘Among Angels’ is a slow brooding piano ballad; while not as minimalist as ‘Snowflake’, nor as grand as ‘Misty’, it brings proceedings to a close with another highlight.  Kate’s voice has a clarity not always heard on the other tracks, while the piano and strings have a drifting simplicity which creates an almost cinematic nature.  It’s the sound of an artist maturing gracefully and a perfect closing statement.

So, six years in the making, ’50 Words For Snow’ has moments which are surprisingly sparse – the kind of album other artists could have made in a quarter of the time (although it must be said, ’50 Words For Snow’ is an album most other artists just would not make).  Parts of it could stand up proudly with some of Kate’s previous recordings, but some of it misses the mark – not due to a lack of vision, but perhaps maybe too much vision.  As for the best bits, Kate once said that December would be magic again…and ’50 Words For Snow’ suggests that, for Kate Bush fans, the future winters now have a magical soundtrack forever more.

November 2011