'We are cocooned and protected by the silence. Find ourselves marooned. Not in islands but in houses.'.
Saturday's the day for fun apparently and I 'm up early to harvest it. I'm in my desk with my mug of tea. Looking out of my high Georgian double glazed windows in Clayton Street West at the equally majestic Georgian windows of the Clarendon building across the road from me. It's a grey day in Newcastle but no immediate sign of rain. .I might go to Jesmond Dene.
My bath has run. I'll boil an egg and listen to Emma Pollock's Begging The Night To Take Hold and decide what to do with my day .It's a literate, thoughtful record. Nuanced. Pretty much my favourite word. Nuanced. Like people. Like the lines on a face of a loved one..
What it compares to most readily to me are cultural comparisons rather than musical ones. A Picador novel or a Radio 4 discussion about pottery or furnishing or films. Aimed squarely at the Indie set. At those who care. The musical reference point seems to be Elvis Costello.. People who read books and watch films...
It's not an album that I.imagine will break loose and make a commercial splash though I'd say that it probably deserves to do so. It deserves Mercury Prizes, Nobel Prizes probably. It's a wonderful listen that concerns itself most immediately with affairs of the heart. The Progress of Love.
It rises and falls. Ebbs and flows. It's rather majestic actually. There are whole lives in every sing. Poetry and heartbreak and back for afternoon tea and cake. Give it a listen. .
.
No comments:
Post a Comment