By: Dan Salter
Esben And The Witch | website | facebook | bandcamp |
Sometimes you get an album that’s hard to write about. There can be many reasons for this but mostly it’s because it doesn’t click with you, you don’t like t or it’s just not very good. However, just occasionally, it’s because you know in your heart of hearts that you just don’t have the words to do it justice. A New Nature by Esben and the Witch is one of those albums. To say it’s the best record I’ve heard this year is something of an understatement.
I first encountered EATW in 2010 when I saw them supporting Efterklang. They were obviously still quite raw then with not much in the way of stagecraft but there was still that undefinable something about them that impressed, a good deal more than Efterklang if I’m honest, something that left a mark. Since then I’ve seen them probably 4 or 5 times and each time been that bit more impressed. That said, nothing prepared me for what happened when I pressed play on this album for the first time.
The first four songs of A New Nature are as good an opening salvo as I’ve ever heard on album. From the deceptively gentle opening to ‘Press Heavenwards’ right through to the closing cacophony of ‘Jungle’, and more on that track later, we are served 35 minutes of searing, visceral yet achingly beautiful psych rock.
The aforementioned ‘Press Heavenwards’ opens with a couple of minutes or so of soft, almost sinister interplay between bass & guitar until suddenly it kicks in to gear with a thumping rhythm, throbbing fuzz bass and our first glimpse of Rachel Davies’s velveteen voice; and what a stunning voice it is. Without doing a disservice to the rest of the band but it is probably that voice that most marks EATW out from their peers. The song’s propulsive, motorik beat drags the listener along in it’s wake, breathless and adrenalised, it’s 10 minute length flashing by in a frenzy of smoke and distortion before the brakes are slammed on & we are plunged straight in to the cold, cold depths of ‘Dig Your Fingers In’.
Honestly, how to hang words around this achingly raw, beautifully melancholic song I know not. That voice, oh sweet lord, that voice, that yearning, that sadness and deep, deep pain. Goosebumps every time. EVERY TIME. And when the guitars crash in, some three quarters of the way through the song, like the release of a storm finally breaking, everything gets lifted again. Perfection. And this isn’t even the best song on this record.
The feeling of growing maelstrom continues in to ‘No Dog’; another masterclass in the build of tension and cathartic release as again the drums, bass & guitar provide a constantly seething, swirling backdrop for Davies to really go for it and then, before we know it, we are dropped by the storm at the feet of the album’s centrepiece and standout track of a standout album; ‘Jungle’. Again, I am stumbling around in the darkness to find suitable language to describe this music. Sublimely provocative, fiercely subtle, achingly joyous, we are at the point where using words to describe music is rendered virtually meaningless in the face of such terrible beauty. And then the trumpet. Oh mary mother of god, that trumpet. Provided by Sam Barton of Teeth of the Sea fame, it spears down like the first ray of sunshine after the storm and it is a moment of pure transcendence; just for that moment, that brief, sweet moment, you think everything’s going to be ok, but Esben & The Witch have other ideas. This is just the eye passing over, respite but not the end and we are plunged once more in to the heart of the tempest, a dizzying, exhilarating rush through pounding beats and crushing guitars before being delivered, battered, bruised but invigorated in to peaceful sunlight. It’s a masterpiece, there’s no other word for it.
Now, taking a step back from the fanboy hyperbole for just a moment, if I have one small criticism of this record is that it is a tad top heavy. Nothing that comes after ‘Jungle’ quite reaches again the heady heights of those four opening tracks. That’s hardly a criticism though for the bar that those tracks set is so very high and the remaining four songs are still better than most, especially ‘Wooden Star’ which again displays the power and range of Davies’s voice and then the beautiful simplicity of ‘Bathed In Light’ ushers the album to a close and, if you’re anything like me, straight back round to play it all again.
So, 700 odd words of (overly)exuberant rambling and I don’t feel I’ve even scratched the surface of why A New Nature, barring something truly exceptional in the last few months, will be not only my album of the year but has already taken a proud position in the pantheon of my favourite albums of all time, it’s that good. Don’t just take my word for it, sit comfortably, play it loud, open your mind and prepare to have it blasted clean.
