The first thing that strikes you on listening to PJ Harvey's new record I Inside The Old Year Dying is that it doesn't all sound like P.J.Harvey. She's recently developed a new means of vocal delivery that is not completely unlike a wolf cub keening. Not an unpleasant sound exactly, but not generally the kind of thing that makes you expect that she's about to burst into 'If you're happy and you know it,' any moment. The record meanwhile has what appears to be a stick on the cover. This is not the record where P.J. finally sells out and races with breakneck speed for that pad and pool in LA.
The next thing that may strike you is that this is a really good record but you may not actually want to listen to it very often. Polly is one of music's greatest talents but she never shies short of the deeply harrowing and relentlessly grim. It's a dirty job and it seems that she's generally the one who's got to do it. This may make her an artist who you're more inclined to respect deeply than necessarily listen to all the time. Hey life's not the easiest ride these days. Try watching the news!
Still, my advice is to persevere. Polly is generally a big hitter. Someone who rewards concentrated attention from the committed listener. I Inside The Old Year Dying, (itself hardly a title that trips off the tongue), is not a feelgood, singalong classic but this is a women who probably goes on archeological camping trips rather than to Torremolinos for her holidays and is more inclined to prefer a sober chat about Schopenhauer than a bawdy discussion on all the blokes she's shagged.
This is P. J. Harvey and she's almost thirty years into a career that favours darkness but remains completely brilliant. There's no sign of her letting up. Her new album is brilliant. The more demanding it becomes the better it gets. That's entertainment. Of the studious sort.
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