Dwell awhile as a new door opens, revealing a new voice to gild the days and nights of your listening.
ON THE THRESHOLD
It can be anxious following the tentative steps as an artist emerges, blinking, onto the wider stage of national recognition. I’d say Christie Reeves is exactly at that threshold, with this, her debut long player, poised to see her follow in the footsteps of, say, Katherine Priddy or Ellie Gowers. We caught the single from this set some weeks back, duly and appropriately impressed, fingers crossed that it was representative of the whole. Let’s see.
From the West Midlands, Reeves has been carefully laying down a footprint, by way of a run of self-released singles and appearances at the pubs and clubs around the district. Part of that journey led her into the know of George Boomsma, himself widely regarded, with he providing many of the additional guitar parts to those of Reeves. The songs are all written and sung by Reeves, with other accompaniment coming from Thomas Atlas, who also, with Reeves, co-produced.
A COURTLY SWEEPING STATEMENT
It is with the aforesaid titular single that the set opens, now sounding like an old friend who has gone on to better things, a courtly, sweeping statement of polished marble. The ghostly backing ensemble of multiple Christies is all the more hauntological, as are the sparsely appropriate guitar textures. I hadn’t earlier really noticed or appreciated Atlas’s muted percussion, which adds an extra sense of grace. The plundered birdsong, however, seems even more apt, obvious and appropriate.
Hope/Prey follows, with extra marks for the wordplay. There is a distinct hit of Kate Bush that floats through this piece, and it is further English gothic folk of the first order, the tinkling keyboard just the right touch. Here it is Atlas on the guitars, with Reeves applying piano and casiotone. Drift Away isn’t the Dobie Gray song, so no “give me the beat, boys“, this more “sky is the color of the snow… so I drift, I drift away “. A song that shows off both the singer’s upper register and her swooping lower tones. Ukulele and Boomsma’s guitar are the accompaniment. There is real smack of 60’s into 70’s folk-jazz, a vibe of Pentangle, that is bubbling up.
A SHIMMERY MIRAGE
The presumably more biographical Pale, Freckled Skin follows, although, as the melody floats through the ether, I find myself questioning Mary Queen Of Scots skin tone, an echo of Fotheringay there somewhere in the scaffolding. It is an early favourite and lingers long. But, so too does The Waves, which is a shimmery mirage of picked guitars and multi-tracked sirens. Boomsma is on electric and also bass on this one, the sound thus fuller and more widescreen. This is indisputably classy stuff.
An early fear was that the singer might prove too crystalline and pure, a risk in this sort of approach. However, judicious use of the whole of her range make sure that shrill is something she never is, that in itself enough to make her a more believable and identifiable talent. Song For All has a construct that might lead a lesser singer in that direction, but even here it is swerved with panache. If you awoke in a field, with this playing all around you, you could feel blessed. And whilst that isn’t something that has ever happened to me, still, otherwise unprompted, that thought came.
A LULL & BALM
Is a Camomile Moon a thing? Chamomile moon milk apparently is, a soothing nighttime brew of chamomile tea, milk and honey. Wheresoever the h, the song of this name is delicious lullaby that lulls and balms, but, before sleep can come, Gone To Seed is a more demonstrative song of self-analysis, piano, guitar and bass applying a chime of wakeful mindfulness. Her voice soaring wordlessly, imagination kickstarts to fill in the spaces. The sparse beauty of All My Leaves then trawls back to reality, and echoes of both Vashti Bunyan and Shelagh McDonald get a conjuring, vocally and in the arrangement. The longest track here, rather than repeating and revisiting, there is more than enough variation to keep that prolonged attention necessary going.
A JOB WELL DONE
Ten tracks, start to finish, with the closer, Sunset River providing an appropriate book-end, a rotating ukulele motif the only backing beyond her naked voice, which is as sweet as it is short. If, as it was for me, a disappointingly short song, consider her job done, and done well, as the only then sensible option is to let the whole album just roll around again.
Here’s a live and, bar the river, unaccompanied Drift Away, for contrast with the recorded version:
Christie Reeves: Website