“Apiaceae or Umbelliferae is a family of mostly aromatic flowering plants named after the type genus Apium and commonly known as the celery, carrot or parsley family, or simply as umbellifers.” – Wikipedia
You know the feeling when a movie or a book or a work of music you know nothing about comes your way, and it’s a revelation.
I knew nothing about Kate Young and this album before a friend enthused over it. I trust this person’s taste – although we disagree on one popular folk group – so I decided to check this out.
And as I checked out who she is, I was pretty stunned: she’s part of the Songs of Separation team, has played with many A1-level folk musos, composed a New Voices work for Celtic Connections 2016 (in my defense, that’s two years before our first visit to CC) and has received awards for her compositional work.
How on Earth was I unaware of this person?!
And then: “Over the last five years she has developed her interests in British plant lore and folktales, learning directly from books and then weaving information into her songs and compositions as a means to perpetuate and empower traditions at high risk of being lost.”
Good heavens… whew. But on to the album!
As the first track, Mountain, began, I felt like walking into a very dark room, an unfamiliar place where shadows move at the edge of vision. What is this? Marimba (?) notes, strange echoing sounds, a fiddle and maybe a double bass creeping in, then a stronger string riff and her voice asking “Are you on the mountain, are you in the sea, are you down in the forest?”
Who is she asking? A person, God or some primordial deity? The song’s vibe is a mixture of chant-like folk, psychedelic chamber music and Led Zeppelin played on classical string instruments – I’m sure Jimmy Page would love this.
And so we’re off, as Mountain leads us to an hour-long journey through a musical/verbal/mental forest and foliage so thick, I can feel it on my skin. Strong medicine here.
Many of the basic elements of Umbelliferæ are there in the opening song. The string ensemble (featuring musicians like Su-a-Lee, Corrina Hewat and Patsy Reid – oh my…) really digging into the instruments, the surprising shifts of tone and color in the middle of the song, Kate’s very impressive, controlled and expressive singing (she also plays the fiddle), and the rich, overflowing sense of nature and natural energies, so well reflected in the dark but vibrant cover art. This music sounds like that image.
She is not averse to lengthy songs. Track 2, Elecampane (a widespread plant species in the sunflower family Asteraceae, Wikipedia tells us), is over seven minutes and runs from a deliciously sensual opening to movements both lighter and groovier. And the dense wild nature is always there in the lyrics, as throughout the album.
And Remember the Land is over nine minutes, with wordless singing, singing with words, very complex time signatures and straight beats, simply wonderful ensemble playing, melodies both strange and catchy (yes!) and powerful lyrics, such as “We do not step lightly / On this weary land / Take hold of what you’re given / Before it turns to sand / Take what you will / Take what you need / But leave some for the children / Who’ve yet to grow from seed“.
That song also describes the whole album’s style: art folk, or experimental folk, or chamber folk with some special seasonings. It’s not weird or difficult, just original. And brilliant.
As if that wasn’t enough, it’s followed by Lale li si, Zyumbyul li si, a mesmerizing Bulgarian song she immerses herself into completely and her voice here is… amazing, really, and somewhat different than on her own songs; she seems to inhabit this other culture (I have no idea if she has personal connections to Bulgaria).
On the whole, the album’s tone is on the darker side; not depressively but in the “it’s getting a bit dark in these woods” vibe. One can almost feel it, the moisture and the textures and the smells of plants and flowers and roots and trees. The path takes us all the way to track 11, The Seed, when there’s finally an airy, bouncy, “spring is here” tune (“And I know / I know I am April“) that bears faint echoes of XTC around their English Settlement / Mummer period. With the very last song, Milk & Dew, it’s a wonderful catharsis after the intense, spellbinding journey.
I was almost breathless when Umbelliferæ ended and the last notes faded. Breathless in a good way: I was taken on a unique journey to places I had not seen/heard before, guided by a powerful person who never loses her footing. It’s a work that I must return to – I know spellbinding is a tired word but it’s what I choose to use here. I’m enthralled.
FolkNotes 