By: Matt Butler
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Two occurrences herald for me the approach of the winter solstice: whisky is on offer and dream pop becomes a worthwhile use of my music listening time. The melancholic nature of the music is perfect for hibernating. And whisky… well, it’s warming.
So it was with some serendipity that the week Caol Isla was 20 per cent off at my local hoochery, the new album from Smoke Fairies landed in my ears. This is the fifth from the band fronted by Jessica Davies and Katherine Blamire, whose previous efforts have garnered almost unanimous praise, but unlike the previous four, this is designed to tie in with the season – or more specifically, Christmas.
Yep. A Christmas album.
Wait, wait. The band insisted in the pre-release publicity that there is “not a tinkling sleigh bell to be heard” on the album and I can vouch for that. Hell, there is even Captain Beefheart cover in there ‘(Steal Softly Thru Snow’ – with all the original’s angularity dissolved in close harmonies and smooth jazz).
In fact the word “Christmas” shows up in just one of the songs’ titles, the opener ‘Christmas Without a Kiss’. It’s a beautiful beginning, the sad lyrics being offset by a faint fuzzy guitar and warm melody. And it embodies the idea that Christmas is not all “ding dong merrily on high” for many. As the band says about the album’s concept: “The lastthing we wanted to do was make a classic, jolly, celebratory album that can only be played once a year. Sometimes winter provides us with a sense of togetherness and love, and sometimes it leaves us feeling alienated, cold and playing a glockenspiel alone in a darkened room.”
There is a lot more velvet melancholy to comfortably wallow in throughout the album, such as ‘Give and Receive’ with its sardonic yet catchy chorus of “I heard a rumour that a child was going to save us” and a dig at festive churchgoers (“For one night a year you will find us here”). Despite the biting lyrics, the song is lush and enveloping.
As is ‘Wild Winter’ with its subtle stabs of guitar and plaintive chorus: “I never know what to give you. If give you the hope that would make you stay.” ‘So Much Wine’ sounds like a good start to a party, but the song could not be further from holiday frolics. In fact the beautifully delicate song follows in the long country and western tradition of telling a sad, sad story in the framework of a melody that tugs at the heartstrings as much as the words. It details an ugly break-up and the title is sung in heartbreaking context: “There is only so much wine you can drink … and it will never be enough to save you from the bottom of your glass”. If you ain’t moved by this song, you’re probably dead.
But just as a perfect Christmas only exists on TV, this album has some low points. Like ‘3 Kings’ and ‘Bad Good’, both of which veer into jarring electro. If you like electro then you may like these numbers but in the context of the record they don’t fit. Unless they are designed to portray the ‘office party’ part of the festive season.
And the wordless ‘Snowglobe Blizzard’, sandwiched between the lyrically heavy ‘Wild Winter’ and ‘So Much Wine’, seems like a luxury. No matter, the rest of the album is lovely to listen to and lyrically moving to boot. Skip past the duff songs and you’ll have an ideal album for a solipsistic session of sheltering from the elements. Don’t forget the whisky.
