Welcome back to the CD Odyssey, where we continue our journey into the Indie folk scene. This time visiting…New Zealand!
Disc 1724 is…Mother of Gloom
Artist: Emily Fairlight
Year of Release: 2018
What’s up with the Cover? Looks like someone getting home in what may not be a great frame of mind (as evidenced by the floor-up camera angle, and the unkempt hair streaming, Grudge-like in front of her face).
Could be depression, drunkenness or just that crippling thought box artistic types suffer periodically. None of these are good, but at least the last one can sometimes result in a song or a painting like that one hanging to the left of the bookshelf.
Or it could be a clever visual homage to the Martha Wainwright song the album pulls its name from “Bloody Motherf**king Ass****” where she sings:
“And the mother of gloom
In your bedroom standing over your head”
If you are wondering how it feels to have the mother of gloom doing that, this picture is a good visual approximation, fairly summarized as “not good”.
How I Came To Know It: At first I had forgotten, but a quick Google search of the likely suspects reveals a Paste Magazine article called “10 Folk Artists You Need to Know in 2019” which reminded me.
Other folk artists on that list you will find in my collection because of this article include: Lula Wiles, Molly Tuttle and the Honey Dewdrops. What about the other six? I would’ve checked them out back in the day, but their absence means they didn’t inspire me the same.
How It Stacks Up: I have not enjoyed other Emily Fairlight albums the same as I do this one. As a result, unlike Lula Wiles, Molly Tuttle or the Honey Dewdrops, this is my only album by her. As such, it cannot stack up.
Rating: 3 stars but almost 4
Some voices just have the night in them, and that’s the case with New Zealand indie folk chanteuse Emily Fairlight. Hardly a surprise from an album titled “Mother of Gloom”, but she lives up to the moniker.
As noted in the cover art teaser, “Mother of Gloom” is a reference to a line from the Martha Wainwright song and this record has gloom to spare. Fairlight’s dusky rasp, and the way she writes songs that constantly stumble their melodies down into emotional depths bring you to a moody but welcome introspection.
Paired with her affecting vocals, she paints with vivid and stark imagery. On “Drag the Night In” she sings:
“Mountains fall into
the ocean
The setting sun is in full motion
So drags the night in
So drags the night in
This life inside me drags the night in”
Don’t despair too much, however – the next verse has the wind dragging the light in. Things are mysterious and gloomy, but it is the kind of gloom that wraps around like a blanket, insulating you from the harsh realities of the world around you. Art as armour.
When things do get a bit upbeat they take on an unexpected Spanish flair, with horns and accordion. Not celebratory exactly, but more the restless energy of a circus or a parade. These aren’t my favourite songs, but I welcomed them as a timely juxtaposition to the grimmer selections.
My main criticism of the record is the saturation of sound in the production. The music gives you a pleasant underwater feeling, but all the extra arrangements and sounds makes the water choppy, like a riptide pulling you out a bit more roughly than is comfortable.
The other challenge with this record is more of a feature than a bug; it demands an immersive listening experience. This means it suffers in the car or the gym, but lives for the depths of a good headphone immersion. In those other places it refuses to reveal its subtle art. However, if you’re willing to settle in and fully commit to a good wallow, you will be glad you did.
Best tracks: Drag the Night In, Private Apocalypse, Sinking Ship, Nurture the Wild
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