Enter Now Brightness
by Nadia Reid
Now a mother of two living in Manchester, Nadia Reid has put much behind her since her 2020 album Out of My Province, not least the local label “folk singer”.
“I still feel uncomfortable about the word folk and being a folk singer,” she said in a recent Listener interview. “It makes me sort of cringe, it’s too confining.”
The scorch of Goth-like electric guitar, synthesiser and hefty drum thump on Changed Unchained on this fourth album are indicative of how much her musical palette has broadened.
From the intimacy of the alt-folk of her early career, now she also embraces swelling pop on Second Nature, which teasingly opens with acoustic guitar before the rolling verses and memorable chorus puts it in reach of mainstream radio.
Hotel Santa Cruz eases close to escapist, Californian country-rock (“four steps outta here, I’m rollin the clear. I’m only seeking truth and light”) and the penetrating Baby Bright about a suicide and forgiveness (“I don’t know why he jumped … don’t know why you felt that way”) is supported by horns and organ.
Although Reid confidently pushes her range (the emotional nakedness of Cry On Cue where she drops into conversational cadences), her country folk origins are still close enough on the opening ballad Emmanuelle.
It sits atop acoustic guitar and gentle organ, refers to the circle being unbroken (familiar from The Carter Family’s country classic) and is an aching song of losing love and a necessary departure.
Reid has said motherhood changed her, but any allusions here are discreet and uncoupled from sentimentality, as on the tightly wound alt-rock of Woman Apart (“I’m grateful for the light that shines … right to your heart”).
Enter Now Brightness is an apposite title for this break with her previous work but she toyed with simply calling it Nadia Reid, a signifier of her rebirth.
It could be a delicate tightrope walk pulling former followers with her while growing to embrace other possibilities, however that doesn’t seem to be her concern.
She has places to go and someone else to be.
In the final, reflective song Send It Down The Line, she sings about the detritus of life and a farewell to “a problem that ain’t mine” with the affirmative announcement, “Here I am”.
Nadia Reid is in a different here and now; the brightness suits her.
Phonetics On and On
by Horsegirl
The 2022 debut Versions of Modern Performance by this trio of young women out of Chicago (singer/guitarist Penelope Lowenstein still in high school at the time) was more than just energetic alt-rock with its New Wave sensibilities, noise and distortion, airy pop and a brief piano piece.
This sophomore album – produced by Cate Le Bon who nudged Wilco, Kurt Vile and others into more experimentation – downplays Horsegirl’s adventurous aspects, their residual noise dialled back in favour of space and sonic clarity (the spiky opener Where’d You Go?, the reductively moody In Twos), youthful anxieties (Well I Know You’re Shy and I Can’t Stand to See You) and post-punk pop (Julie, Frontrunner).
Flying Nun aficionados will note Switch Over (Look Blue Go Purple, anyone?); other references include Kurt Cobain’s favourite The Raincoats (the minimalist Rock City and annoyingly catchy 2468). The guitar intrusions undermine the idea of a “solo”.
Some of their debut’s untempered exuberance has been lost in the transition but there’s undeniable charm in the alt-pop here.
Sharon Van Etten and the Attachment Theory
by Sharon Van Etten
Another artistic reinvention – this time, Sharon Van Etten, who has often had synths in her armoury. But on her seventh album, a full-blown, shadowy but elevating synth-Goth mood prevails. The opener Live Forever – buoyed by increasing gales of keyboards and electronics as Van Etten goes from a whisper to operatic anguish – is an arresting start to a collection taking its lead from New Order (Idiot Box), recent Gary Numan (the emotionally monochromatic Southern Life) and locating itself somewhere between Lena Lovich and Siouxsie Sioux on the lesser I Can’t Imagine (Why You Feel This Way).
This dramatic musical architecture suits themes of unease and uncertainty, and Van Etten peppers in typically powerful melodies, snappy synth-pop (Somethin’ Ain’t Right) and quieter moments (the dreamy Trouble and weightless Fading Beauty).
Not everything works (Indio) and for some, this will be a leap into dark waters. But Van Etten’s empathetic voice (the closer I Want You Here) assures you won’t drown.
These albums are available digitally, on vinyl and CD.
