MUSIC
E N T E R | TA I N
BEST IN SHOW We sift through the latest album releases, which include two Irish contenders for Album Of The Year.
LANKUM SORCHA RICHARDSON First Prize Bravery (Faction Records) With tens of thousands of streams on Spotify, Sorcha Richardson has been releasing indie-pop earworms for years. An LP, though, always remained around the corner. Well, the waiting is over. Recorded over a month in LA with long-term producer Alex Casnoff, First Prize Bravery is about as coherent a debut album as you can get. The album is about the minutiae of relationships and friendships, and what it means to negotiate these whilst being constantly on the move between her bases in New York and Dublin. As with any good situational drama, the joy is in the small details. On opener ‘Honey’ – a stripped-back, heart-onsleeve number – she sings about an encounter with a mysterious “you” that left her questioning everything. But it’s the imagery that wins you over: “I watched you move around the room/ You’re more magnetic than the moon/ That hangs above the balcony/ As you make your way back to me.” The joy is that it all works. Every song, in fact, boasts stellar production. So catchy is the title track, it’s easy to overlook how exquisitely constructed it is. As the song commences, Richardson’s echoing vocals gradually emerge into the foreground. Thereafter, the tune folds layers of acoustic guitars, piano melodies and dreamy synths into a readymade pop hit. Everything, of course, is a foil to Richardson’s voice, which can only be described as laidback liquid gold. It draws you into these personal situations, and lays them out like an open diary, judgement-free. Bravery indeed. This is a superb record.
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The Livelong Day (RIver Lea)
BECK Hyperspace (Fonograf Records / Capitiol) In the 25 years since Beck made good, he has been nothing if not interesting, and often quite brilliant. He’s on another winner here. Written and produced with Pharrell Williams, Hyperspace is a more subdued affair than 2017’s Colors. After the Eno-y ‘Hyperlife’, featuring the first of Beck’s superb vocals, ‘Uneventful Days’ continues along slightly ambient lines. It finds our man lamenting either a failing relationship, or the fleeting nature of inspiration. Either way, it’s a great single and sounds as au courant as today’s paper. Which makes the slide acoustic guitar on ‘Saw Lightning’ more jarring, but in a good way. Meanwhile, love is the drug in the acoustic electronica of ‘Chemical’, and ‘See Through’ floats away on keyboard waves. The title track features Terrell Hines on vocals, channelling André 3000, with another guest in the form of Chris Martin on ‘Stratosphere’. The latter could pass for one of Coldplay’s better moments, if that’s not a musical oxymoron. ‘Dark Places’ and ‘Star’ are more variations on the sonics that preceded them, and closer ‘Everlasting Nothing’ brings the acoustic guitar back-up – before the synths overpower – and it goes out with a glorious choral finish. The production and the ever-present keyboards and treatments might sound cold on paper, but this is a warm record, combining the best of analogue and digital. A pretty good trick, but nothing less than you’d expect from the man.
Few contemporary artists epitomise the integrity and authenticity at the heart of great folk music quite like Lankum. True to the title of their previous LP, the Dublin four-piece’s sound exists somewhere Between The Earth And The Sky – embracing both earthy, human grit and intangible, otherworldly textures. On The Livelong Day the group have re-emerged with a deepened sense of maturity and mortality, culminating in a project of uniquely raw intensity. Lankum’s trademark organic ambience is brought to thrilling, sometimes terrifying, new heights, courtesy of their honorary fifth member, engineer and producer John “Spud” Murphy. Experimental instrumentation and playing include stunning appearances from the harmonium, mellotron, trombone and, most notably on ‘Hunting The Wren’, whatever else happened to be lying around the studio at the time. Capturing the wily anarchy that’s always been an integral aspect of Irish folk music, the group handle inherited songs like ‘The Wild Rover’ and ‘The Dark Eyed Gypsy’ with immense respect – but they are never precious. As with their previous releases, ancient sounds and haunting drones are used as a vehicle to express modern issues and to explore the human condition – with ‘The Young People’, a rousing ballad about suicide, packing a slow-building, but ultimately devastating, blow. Yet, despite fearlessly confronting these darker moments of our past and present, there’s also a deep, resounding love encased within the music throughout the album – with Radie Peat’s tenderly earthy vocals embodying the Irish landscape and people to stunning effect. A remarkable and urgent reminder to celebrate the livelong days. Long live Lankum.
