No damage done, but Moss still tempers her silk with steel, crushing any resistance with a field full of feathers.

BANISH THE TEMPLATE

These days very little actually qualifies as new new, at least in the sense of seeming so, there usually being adherence to some sort of pre-set template, or a conscious recycled refurb exercise taking place, even if deliberately drawn from paths largely untrodden. But Elanor Moss, in this, her full-length debut gets close, however much any written description suggests otherwise, such the limitations of language. And that is certainly sufficient to stand her out from the current crop of bedroom singer-songwriters, pouring their private woes into public song.

BILLOWING

It is with the current single, Fixer, that the set opens, billowing in on a bed of glorious paired trumpet and flugelhorn. Some picked guitar and in comes the voice, a wafty, wavy shred of gossamer that floats delectably over the words. Strings shimmer over the returning horns and it is all beautifully restrained. It all sounds so vulnerable, if yet giving the idea of some steely strength lurking there somewhere. Indeed, it is a song about vulnerability, and how love can make you such, baring both underbelly and weaknesses.

It is just voice and guitar for Again, My Love, at least to start, and a flicker of remembered comparison appears, that with Kathryn Williams’ first pair of recordings, where she herself sounded as frail as a feather yet tough as nails. The brass and strings then join in for what sounds like a pastoral harvest festival. It is Marcus Hamblett on flugelhorn and, rather than trumpet, tenor horn from Jools Owen, with Matthew Herd on saxophone. The strings come courtesy Reid Jenkins and Andrew Stuart-Buttle, credited, I note, as fiddle and violin respectively, should you discern the difference. The subtle bass undercurrent comes from Linus Fenton. Hamblett and Owen are known best from Bear’s Den, but are also multi-instrumentalists across any number of other projects.

SHOCKING

Sarah Waiting In The Car starts within a sinuously constructed arrangement. But, whilst, sonically, it may capture the feel of delicate English whimsy, there is a dark turn in the lyric that is quite shocking: “Then you take me by the kitchen sink, fist around my neck“, the chorus thereafter swapping from “You’re so gentle, baby” to “You’re so violent, baby“, without any change in the lightness of delivery, or the lushness of the strings. Eek! In another nod to Williams, only the brief instrumental interlude of Improvisation can follow that, with creaky bass that amplifies the sense of foreboding, as gothic horns hover and strings flicker.

There is an audible gulp of air before Moss starts to sing You Are Coming Home Tonight. Chastened by the experience of what has come before, already the small hairs are standing, looking for all the dread that may hide in the detail. And there is plenty. The instrumental arrangement is suitably hollow, coming from Herd’s careful touch, as are all the brass and string parts. That same sense of noir filters into the next track, Moss this time audibly shivering into a sigh, a sotto voce “Secrets, take two” allowed to leak in from the recording session. As in Secrets Of The Universe. You cannot help but strain to catch the words, expecting the worst, the unfolding of some eldritch drama. This is clever stuff and delivers, if namelessly, by intent and suggestion.

SHINING

I love the rather more mundane storyline of Clothes In A Hotel Sink, invoking life on the road, away from lovers and partners. There is a an almost essence of country seeping into this one, courtesy the fiddle (right!) of Jenkins, then whipped back to the chapel by Hamblett’s flugelhorn. A further touch of tentativeness adorns the beginning of Louise, this being a conceit repeated, but repeated well and endearingly, a contrast with the polish elsewhere, as if to confirm that this much mahogany doesn’t shine itself. Moss’s guitar carries this one, but, as if prompted, as she sings the word “orchestra“, so her accompanists glide in. There is piano and some muted occasional drums on this one, from Nathan Cox and Isambard Warburton.

To close come The Way It Feels, with a slightly different atmosphere, as Moss duets with herself and dispenses with any backing beyond her own guitar. It is a song that would be primed perfectly for a singing saw, so much so that it seems present, if only via the imagining. It is actually her harmony vocal that adds that particular tone and is a nice touch. It also takes away any ability to say the record all sounds the same, a risk for any casual listener who might otherwise miss the nuances of a deeper dive. I wonder whether if, live, it is just her alone; however much the arrangements are integral to the overall, I will bet they would leave as strong an impression, if different.

WATCH & LISTEN

And talking of different, it seems there was a whole earlier “rollocking” version, recorded in New York, but later discarded in favour of this, put together by producer, Peter Miles, in a cabin, in the Scottish Highlands. All in all, it suggests Ms. Moss is one to watch and, until then, enjoy the listening of.

Here’s Fixer:

Elanor Moss: Website

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