Boo and Jenny go all Mulder and Scully with momentous results.

Release Date: 2nd February 2024

Label: Hudson Records

Format: CD/vinyl/digital

I’ll say this very quietly, but I sometimes find Mr Hewerdine a little too severe for my enjoyment, and I mean severe, not as in his songsmanship, which is clearly and always exemplary, but he is just so damned worthy, always in tandem with the great and the good, adding gravitas to the grist they themselves would otherwise provide. So I approached this with a little caution, ahead of being blown away by the lightness of touch and application of studio techniques, most of which I somehow assumed might be anathema to him. I don’t know how much of this is down to Ms. Sturgeon, with whom I am less familiar, knowing she, too, is a collaborator of some note, as well as being a member of Salt House, recently reviewed here.

The striking cover is of Scotland’s last manned lighthouse, ahead of it becoming fully automated, as recently as 1998. Think lighthouse in the same way as did L.S. Lowry, a cipher for isolation. For that, and the Scottish setting, belie the origins of this record. Yes, this is another product of lockdown, which, with time, will be seen as one of the most fertile periods of artistry of recent times, as, restricted from the rigors of touring and promotion, or indeed anything bringing in a dime, writing was the only available option. Via zoom in their respective home, Glasgow for Hewerdine, Shetland for Sturgeon, the two batted forth ideas, with the construction coming together, quite unlike anything either have been involved in. Each sing, Hewerdine plays mainly guitar and Sturgeon mainly keyboards, but it is the studio that is the real instrumental star, with undercurrents of electronica washing gently through, with found sound, ambient and otherwise, adding a wealth to the atmosphere. Beats, even, if redolent more of Ibiza chill than the rather more meteorological chill of Shetland waters.

It is with the sound of waves and a rhythmic thrum that the music starts, ahead the electronic drums kicking in, and a background of repeated chiming keyboard. It is Sturgeon’s clear gust of a voice that we hear. Called The Longest Day, the fruit of their shared contribution comes in as Hewerdine applies some gentle backing, with strummed guitar and a delicate harmony. The melody strays little; it doesn’t need to, it as much evocation as song. The slow and sonorous opening notes of A Wish That Never Came True, set another mood, and Hewerdine has never sounded quite so organic, his voice a creaky vessel, lovingly carved. The pit patter of percussion is perfect, Sturgeon’s vocal multitracked into an eerie siren’s call.

Gull and birdsong accompany a sinuous acoustic guitar line, and it is Sturgeon again, for Salvage, a song about making a home where you can and with what is available. Salvage as both verb and noun. A feature that is fast becoming apparent is the distinct lightness of footprint each of these songs leave, using sounds for variety rather than relying on too many notes or too fussy a melody. Less really is more, the changes made by repetition. Lines, which appeared earlier, in 2021 as a digital single, and later as part of Singularities, an EP collection of similar collaborations, has rather more weight to it, an almost threatening beat, with a shimmery analogue synth sounding for all the world like the Human League. Sure, Hewerdine’s voice is sweeter than Oakey’s, but, squint a bit, and it almost could be, Louise perhaps the reference. And I’ll bet that isn’t anything you’d associate with the tall man from Cambridge. Especially with that big fuck off beard he’s been wearing of late. Indigo pulls it all back, though, with another sepulchral piano, an instrumental piece with fragments of spoken word, flitting in and over, ahead some keening wordless vocal from Sturgeon. Stunning.

If you expect no words for next track, No Words, earlier the flip of Lines, you’d be at fault, for it is one of the more conventional songs here, Sturgeon continuing to envelop the lyric in her unctuous balm of a voice. The gradual layering build makes for one of the most beautiful moments on this record. With the chatter and splutter of synths for Anonymous the most disarming. Here it is Sturgeon and Hewerdine adding the spoken word, intoning a slow poem in unison, the contrast between the arrangement and their calm tones quite pronounced. Hewerdine is then at his Boo-iest for Heard, guitar and voice, straining his fragility as it soars upward; this is a song I can imagine sung by some of his other collaborators, Chris Difford, say, or Kris Drever. By singing it himself, a softer side is shown, rather than his prior academic demeanour. Did I mention the toy piano, a further touch of wizardry?

Dusk is spaghetti Shetland, by which I mean a cowboy soundtrack for the far north. Theremin, or what sounds like one, hovers eerily and the mood is broken, restored or just kept guessing, as much as you want. The piano led ballad, Little One, has Sturgeon at her most Caledonian, a creaky floorboard, maybe rocking chair, there in the background, maybe of your imagination. A song on loss, the motion is palpable. Chime is just that, chimes and woodwind, a minute and a half to gather your senses for the final track, Powercuts. For a frisson, it seems almost as if it going to be Watcher Of The Skies, yes, that one, if wobblier, that same mellotronic sweep. But it is Hewerdine, not Gabriel, that pipes up, the FX sweeping and shearing around a simple repeated sequence of notes. Can I use sepulchral twice? And if I can’t, it is certainly spectral, down to the sudden unexpected snip of the powerlines, it suddenly all over.

I have to say, if not already overt and obvious, that this beast is quite like nothing I associate Hewerdine with, and, not really, not even Sturgeon, although it is closer to some of her newer age excursions. And it works, it really works. Do you like my/our new direction? Very much. Plus, when I say how much the studio is all part of the process and project, take one step back, and realise that studio, their studios, were all online and through the wonders of apps and algorithms, home recording at the peak of sophistry, yet anchored all with the warmth and solace of song.

Here’s Lines, if acknowledging the earlier Reaveal records EP release, with a spot the typo moment.

Boo Hewerdine online: Website / Facebook / X (formerly Twitter) / Instagram

Jenny Sturgeon online: Website / Facebook / X (formerly Twitter) / Instagram

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