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Inti Rowland - Eyes of a Starling

Inti Rowland (facebook/bandcamp) caught my attention during an afternoon spent exploring Soundcloud a couple of months ago. A few clicks took me to his website, where I found a video of him singing his song ‘Eyes of a Starling’, unaccompanied, perched on the edge of a bath, sounding haunting and magnificent. It is that song which gives its name to, and opens Inti’s excellent new 6 track Ep, a delightful, folk-inflected record which stands out from the glut of twinkly, indistinct, acoustic music that seems, albeit gently, to assail one these days.

Inti’s voice has a kind of choir-boy purity to it, yet isn’t lacking in emotional texture, his guitar-playing is bright and subtle, and his song writing is sophisticated, particularly in terms of structure: the timing is beautifully measured, and there are plenty of well-judged pauses and spaces. For all but two of the songs he is joined by cellist Sam Rowe and violinist Megan Jenkins, both of whose thoughtful playing greatly enriches the record. They sing on it, too.

A new, fuller version of ‘Eyes of a Starling’, starts proceedings. Beautiful though it was in aforementioned, unadorned, “bath” form, the song is deepened by its treatment here. It bursts forth after a minute of rustling, somnolent instrumental music which seems to describe the forest setting in which the record was made (somewhere next to a mountain in Wales), and is all crescendos and peaks, interspersed with gentler moments that let Inti’s voice to shine through. Those more heavily orchestrated passages never sound congested, and the melodies and harmonies of the strings are unusual and don’t simply follow the main theme (this is true of the whole record, in fact). Megan’s occasional singing provides a neat counterpoint to Inti’s spare vocal style.

Megan sings with Inti throughout the second song, ‘Merchant Men at the Windows’, a simple, plaintive duet. It is, save the final, hidden song, the barest track on the Ep, sweetened by warm vocals that disguise the tenor of what’s being told. The following three tracks are more elaborate. ‘A Purse of Copper Coins’, passes through various transformations: its melancholy opening theme, wrought over by a weaving violin part, clears to reveal Inti singing alone with his liltingly-strummed guitar; the strings rejoin him and everything builds up for a cavernous-sounding middle that is, dare I say it, epic… it works though, and soon enough the song resolves, quietly winding down with just the man and his guitar.

‘Cotton Dandelion Dress’ conjures a wonderful atmosphere, seemingly awash with autumnal evening light. This feeling is reinforced by the cello and violin, which accompany Inti through most of the song (I am reminded of the string playing on parts Jeff Buckley’s album Grace).

‘Arabian Dolls’ continues in the same vein, with Inti’s sweet tune richly embellished by the sung and bowed harmonies of his cohorts. It ends unexpectedly, underpinned by a deep, reverberating note on the cello. Twenty seconds later comes the (hidden) closing track of the Ep. It is quite lovely, a simple ditty, just solo voice and guitar, and sounds like it was recorded in one take. For all the wonderful, imaginative enhancements on the rest of the record, and they really do make it a varied and rewarding listen, the final track exposes the real nub of Inti’s talent: his beautiful voice and considered approach to song writing.

I am told that Inti and Megan will be playing some gigs soon, to find out when and where, check his Facebook.

If you would like to buy the record, which as you may have realised I heartily recommend, you can do on his Bandcamp.

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The Maccabees - Given To The Wild

I’ve just read the news: The Maccabees are apparently set to hit the lofty heights of #1 in the UK album charts this coming Sunday with their new album. Excuse me a moment while I punch the air in delight. This review was going to highlight the reasons why Given to the Wild deserved to be the band’s breakthrough album, anyway, but having my suspicions confirmed is something rather thrilling. Unless you’re the kind who feels that the bands they love are ‘precious’, there’s always that feeling of joy when you see them become noticed, and even though the thought of them becoming ‘big’ (as it were) more often than not scares certain sections of their fanbase, success of any sort should not be begrudged.

Consider The Maccabees’s situation: in five years, they have made the jump from being (somewhat unfairly) lumped in with the UK landfill-indie ‘scene’, to becoming a force to be seriously reckoned with. The local boys are going nationwide, to borrow from All In Your Rows, from 2007′s Colour It In. However, the new record is so expansive and textured that it will test fans’ abilities to grow, just as the band have done. Being given a Markus Dravs-assisted shot in the arm with Wall of Arms three years ago worked wonders for the band. It was a huge step forward, and the band have changed just as much again for their third outing… meaning that Given to the Wild sounds nothing like how they used to be.

The album’s lyrical themes deal with change, too, Orlando Weeks’ style having matured even further in the wake of the break-up that influenced his band’s second album. He reminds us that ‘nothing stays forever’ on album centrepiece Forever I’ve Known, reflecting on the transient nature of existence on sparky lead single Pelican (in what is an amazingly effective contrast), marrying lyrics like, ‘Before you know it, we’re pushing up the daisies’ to an insistent guitar line and sky-scraping hooks. Speaking of the latter, the keyboard line from Went Away has the capability to get stuck in a listener’s head for days.

Its appearance is one euphoric moment among many; Given to the Wild is absolutely chock-full of them, meaning this is quite comfortably the most optimistic and uplifting Maccabees record so far, despite the weightiness of its themes. However, it is not without its darker moments. Unknow is another album highlight, yet it inhabits murkier territory with its brooding bassline and jerky guitar blasts, a perfect counterpoint to Pelican, with which it has noticeable similarities in composition, even if the songs’ moods couldn’t be more different.

It has been said of the album (by the band themselves) that it possesses a sort of cinematic quality, and this is clearly audible in its structure; it has a sort of overture in the title track, before leading into Child, a song which introduces the main themes of the album: change, growth and maturity. Things draw to a close with Grew Up at Midnight, the stunning final track which ties things up nicely, giving the record a nice sense of closure. It ebbs and flows wonderfully, ensuring that not one of its 13 songs is passed over. Its 53-minute running time may seem questionable at first, but as the album grows on you – and it is definitely a grower, nowhere as immediate as their previous work – and its true depths are revealed, you sense that it is the perfect length. Far away from where they started, The Maccabees’s wild ride of a third album looks set to take them places – places they perhaps never dreamed of seeing.

Given to the Wild is out now via Fiction/Polydor
[BUY] The Maccabees – Given to the Wild @ Amazon | iTunes | Norman Recs

The Maccabees – Pelican

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As I write this, it is nine months to the day since Hannah Clark, alias FOE [Twitter/Facebook], released her debut EP, Hot New Trash. When you consider that most bands take a number of years, from conception, to release an album, one conclusion can be quickly reached: damn, she moves fast. The last time I tackled a record that had been released anywhere near that quickly (trivia fans: it was Red Light Company’s Fine Fascination, released ten months after their first EP), I said that the band had potential and would do well to capitalise on it. (Sadly, they are no more, having split two years ago.) By contrast, FOE’s Bad Dream Hotline comes to light almost fully formed.

I don’t want to take that leap and say Clark has her sound completely nailed – for all I know she could release other new music this year that’s completely different – but in terms of this being her debut album, it ticks all the boxes: no weak links, plenty of variety, and hooks to burn. She hasn’t been on the scene all that long, but her opening statement is, in a word, fantastic. Even if her dark lyrical style will prove divisive, the 12 songs present on Bad Dream Hotline present a sonic palette that’s wide enough to provide something for everyone.

As evinced by lead single Cold Hard Rock, she has a knack for writing gargantuan choruses, and there are plenty of those on offer, the best of which is arguably present on The Black Lodge - coincidentally I’m going to stick my neck out and call that song the best thing she’s written so far - as possibly the most uplifting moment on the album: ‘There’s a breeze in the trees, singing, “Your black heart, your black heart needs a transplant.” Acting as the centrepiece to a song that is an altogether darker take on certain classic fairytales, the fact that it’s so unexpected makes its appearance all the more impressive.

There are plenty of other notable moments, too; Mother May I? deals with Clark’s feelings of being an outcast when she was young, evocative lyrics like, ‘I spy something in the desert of my mind / Mother may I play games with the bigger kids?’ married to a fizzing grunge-pop tune that establishes the album’s theme quite well after the breathtaking introductory salvo of Ballad For the Brainkeepers. The latter’s title is misleading – it’s not entirely a ballad, anyway, building from quiet beginnings to a cacophonous finish, with Clark giving herself life lessons: ‘Get to the top / Get all the way up, just don’t fall off’.

There’s no danger of that happening; while her rise has been surprisingly fast (again, it took nine months for her to get to where she is now), she’s only just getting warmed up. Maybe she can learn to shake the insecurity that is so clearly documented on this album. She describes her body as a Jailhouse, opening up about her isolation; on A Handsome Stranger Called Death she reveals the fear she used to have of ‘being another dead-at-20 something-or-another’; and on stunning (actual) ballad Dance and Weep she relates her frustration at not being noticed enough: ‘Was I selfish again? Well, I can’t help that / I do it all for you and I get nothing back.’

Older songs Genie In a Coke Can and Tyrant Song also feature; it would be foolish to call them weak songs, as they certainly fit in quite well on the album – and on that note, there is no Deep Water Heartbreaker, which might not have fit the context of Bad Dream Hotline anyway, so that was a good move – but the newer stuff eclipses them both. Clark has come a hell of a long way in a short space of time, and it sounds like she has plenty more up her sleeve, but, to say the absolute least of it, Bad Dream Hotline will do for now. This is one hell of an introduction.


FOE – Cold Hard Rock

Bad Dream Hotline is out January 16th; pre-order here.

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