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Unclassifiable, unflinching and altogether astonishing. File under odd, good odd. The latest from Kate Young.

The beauty of something different
Sometimes something a bit different is what the mind and body needs, the then usual problem being that most something differents are definitely not, being yet more revamps and regurges of existing art forms. This is never more so than in music, where the cat has been skinned so often as to render renovations impossible and innovation unlikely. And, while string quartet scarcely screams new, actually, with this, Kate Young’s solo debut, it’s a retread with such sufficient imagination as to seem so.

A broad CV
So who Kate Young? And, by the way, it’s actually a string quintet. A fiddle player of some skill, she is a composer first, performer second, whose Edinburgh upbringing, seeped in traditional music, awoke in her a desire to conjure up intriguing soundscapes, based upon global folk traditions. Along the way she has been a Moulette, a member of Kathryn Tickell’s Darkening and of Hannah James’ JigDoll ensemble, as well as a core participant in 2015/6’s Songs Of Separation project, that placed her alongside Eliza Carthy, Karine Polwart, Rowan Rheingans and more. This album is based around the use of plants as a basis of and for medicine, which may sound a tad dusty. Believe me, it isn’t!

Eerie and scattish
Opening with a slow pulse of bass notes , Mountain introduces the set, a song where Kate’s voice is wed with slightly discordant strings, sounding as a wriggle away from constriction. A sinuous pattern emerges, ahead a break in backing, to clarsach, the Celtic harp, with the lyrics forming an appeal: “Are you on the mountain? Are you in the sea? Are you down in the forest?” Eerie and hypnotic, even as she breaks into scattish vocables, attention is held. In fact, be warned, given this is something, scat, to which she returns and retreats to frequently across the record, it may have you question any prejudices you may have around such. I had to.

Elecampane is the first herb encountered, the musicians playing with what first sounds like the chaos of an orchestra warming up, before shape forms, the double bass conducting order out the disorder. The violins, viola and cello gradually meld together, with Young’s voice a tuneful howl, midway between Polly Harvey and Kate Bush. The team here is top class, with the undoubted talents of Patsy Reid, viola, and Su-A Lee, cello, with further fiddle from Young herself, Claudia Schwab and Sofia Høgstadius. The double bass, bowed and plucked, comes from from May Haliburton. This is the core quintet. Elecampane? Of the sunflower family and good for coughs. (You’re welcome).

Chamber jazz noir…
The Marigold Grove takes a slight chamber jazz noir turn, the violins and viola snagging out around each other to what could be a folk rock vibe, were there a rhythm section. Once that thought holds, however, as if prompted, so one slots in. It is Tim Lane at the kit. The most familiar style of song for anyone expecting orthodoxy, that feeling is duly junked by an entirely strange sort of yodelling moment, as over as swiftly as it began, before Young returns to the main melody. Round about now comes the realisation that this oddness is all rather good.
Prelude To A Dandelion is a shorter movement, with spoken word, musing on, amongst other things, the taste of the dandelion, building to an eldritch violin scraping finale. Followed by Dandelion itself, this is a wild Balkan kolo, with an exuberant and effervescent story to tell; “I bleed the milk of moon” is a touch I particularly like. The quintet provide a sturdy backdrop, all very Kronos quartet, via the autonomous economy that blends tunefulness with atmosphere. Yes, and more scat, the Swingle Singers on ‘shrooms.

Graceful folk via Pentangle
Borthwick has a graceful folk tune that the string section gild accordingly, in a mix of pizzicato and bowing, with, now, elements of the Middle East creeping in. Double tracking the vocal adds some depth, and attunement to her vocal tics has happened enough to be taken as heard, almost unnoticed.

Remember The Land, up next, is a longer track, just over the ten minute mark, with a hint of Pentangle/Jacqui MacShee in Young’s vocal ululations, percussion and bass prominent once again, under the never slackening string riffery. Another strong tune, there sound to be voices other than Young alone, making for a chorale. A longer symphonic section bridges the earlier pell mell approach into a more reflective second section, which sees the clarsach of Corrina Hewat return to the fray. This then builds, with cymbals crashing and the strings chopping rhythmically to find again the melody of that first half. It could be a favourite section, even with the attendant whoops and wails.

Voix bulgares!
Lale Li Si, Zyumbyul Li Si promptly goes all Voix Bulgares, Young opening her throat to embrace no small authenticity, it thus coming as no surprise that, yes, it actually is a traditional Eastern Bulgarian song. In translation, “Are you a Tulip, are you a Hyacinth“, this makes sure the track maintains the message of medicinal herbs. If you like this sort of thing, you’ll love it, with the instrumental heft held back to allow concentration on her splendid vocal. The massed strings almost mimic brass at times. Remember The Land has now become only my second favourite.

The botanical road trip rolls on
This botanical road trip keeps ever onward, and, even if it is to the humble nettle next, there are still some new angles to explore. With the strings eking out some off-kilter and off-key orchestration, comes a recorded narrative around the uses of the plant, from Shetland shepherd and ploughman, Brucie Henderson. His cracked and ancient tones complement the music beautifully, and the musicians he.
That gentler frame extends into Gentian, a metronomic beat carrying forward the strings, here sounding positively Queen’s Consort, c.1600, maudlin and melancholy. Until, that is, Young pipes up. A bar or two of working together, and suddenly a squib is thrown, and it all goes bonkers, with paradiddles and percussion making raids in and onto the concoction. Insistent drums joust with Young’s freeform vocalising, and it is a glorious chaos, ahead a sudden stop. Remember Rondo Veneziana, that baroque and roll renaissance chamber and drums set up of 40 years ago? Well, there are hints of that in there somewhere, perhaps if someone had spiked their drinks.

A further taste of eerie
The Pentangle references return for the dumm dum deedum dah led The Seed, over pizzicato plucking that gives a banjo like texture. The bass and drums add to that feel and it is another wyrd weirdness, the wackiness now seeming normal. Time structures fluctuate and falter, but nothing can surprise any more. I can quite imagine Jon Anderson feeling quite at home on this one. Feeling as if my ears have been in a tumble drier, or at least on a merry-go-round, Milk And Dew closes the set, with a further taste of eerie, with searing vocals and a simmering broth of strings. The quintet play all the notes the right way around this time, and it is an enchanting salvo of intent, possibly the best ensemble playing of my year, at least in this idiom. Glorious.

If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow – don’t be alarmed now,  …
Kate Young has certainly shown there is a bustle in the hedgerow, a big one, and one to be aware of, wary even, if unafraid. Like nothing else currently being made, this might make for a wonderful surprise to pop into someone’s stocking, for the person who has everything and has heard it all. Because not this, they haven’t.

Tracks:
01 - Mountain
02 - Elecampane
03 - The Marigold Grove
04 - Prelude to Dandelion
05 - Dandelion
06 - Borthwick
07 - Remember the Land
08 - Lale li si Zyumbyul li si
09 - Nettle Waltz
10 - Gentian
11 - The Seed
12 - Milk and Dew

Staat er compleet op, 10% pars mee gepost. Met zeer veel dank aan de originele poster. Laat af en toe eens weten wat je van het album vindt. Altijd leuk, de mening van anderen. Oh ja, MP3 doe ik niet aan.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsOIIsNtzU4