We all have that specific something that puts us into the Christmas spirit each year. For some, it’s biting into that first mince pie, hearing the thud of the first Christmas card landing on the doormat, or standing on the stepladder to reach down that uniquely musty-smelling cardboard box overflowing with tinsel from the attic. For me – and countless Kate Rusby fans across the land – it’s not until dusting off one of Rusby’s six enchanting Christmas albums (whilst giving thanks for her fifteen non-seasonal records that have kept us going throughout the rest of the year…) and hearing that unmistakeable, blissful voice blend with brass, bells, and banjo, that the festivities can commence. This year, after more than three decades of music making, Barnsley’s very own Folk Award-winning, Mercury Prize-nominated Nightingale returns to delight us with Light Years, her seventh festive record.
Listening to Light Years for the first time is like writing an exhaustive wish list and, come Christmas morning (or December 1st, for us lucky listeners…), surveying the haul and being able to tick off every last item. Brass boys? Check! While Shepherds Watched? Of course! Witty wordplay guaranteed to raise a festive grin? Sorted! With Rusby, though, fans have come to expect the unexpected, particularly over the past few years. What makes Light Years so uniquely magical is that the traditional elements that have become staples of Rusby’s festive records remain grounded and conspicuous whilst simultaneously being flanked by flashes of the contemporary. A generous helping of banjo, strummed with as much mastery as ever by the brilliant Damien O’Kane, goes hand-in-hand with a subtle splash of Moog synthesiser, creating a balance of sound arguably not achieved quite so optimally since Rusby’s 2017 Christmas record, Angels and Men.
The lovely, exceptionally talented “brass boys”, led by Andrew Duncan, delight us throughout the album, beginning with the very first note. ‘Spean’ is a truly magical reimagining of a traditional hymn, ‘Brightest and Best’, written in 1811 by Bishop Reginald Heber. It is a track which emanates light from every conceivable angle, and hope is found in the promise of starshine that melts into dawn. The “Rusbyfication” of the hymn comes in the form of an original refrain, constituting ringing bells, and reminiscent of the likes of ‘Sweet Chiming Bells’ (Angels and Men, 2017) and the beloved ‘Sweet Bells’ on her Christmas album of the same title (2008). Here, the bells are seen – or, perhaps, heard – to be “chasing the darkness and shadows all away”. No better description could possibly be penned for the effect Light Years has on the listener over the course of the next ten tracks.
This charming refrain is, of course, far from the only original songwriting offered up by the album. ‘Glorious’, the only track to be pre-released as a single, represents Rusby’s songwriting at its finest. She has said of the track that it was written as early as February, illustrating the tenacity of the Christmas spirit which runs in her Yorkshire blood throughout the year. She envisioned an angel – perhaps akin to the one she is seen to represent on the stunning album cover – sat in a snowy tree with a broken wing, in need of love, healing, and redemption, and wrote the song for her. Introducing a more electronic feel to this track, with percussion and electric guitar, could very easily have undermined its subtle beauty, but instead, each element tastefully complements the others to create an enviable sense of equilibrium.
‘The Moon Shines Bright’, a reinvention of a traditional New Year carol, carries a heavy emotional weight for Rusby; it was a song she first performed at the age of just fifteen in a production of The Mystery Plays. What better song, then, to be joined in singing by a couple of old friends, who turn out to be none other than the esteemed American bluegrass singer Alison Krauss and celebrated banjo player, guitarist, and singer-songwriter Ron Block, who hold a staggering number of Grammy Awards between them. Whilst the impressively star-studded cast of guest vocalists who embellished 30: Happy Returns occasionally deprived the listener of being able to appreciate Rusby’s stunning vocals to the full, however, Krauss and Block blend seamlessly into the musical tapestry, simultaneously adding a unique, harmonic richness while taking nothing away. Rusby, who turns fifty in early December, has described the collaboration as “the best early birthday present imaginable”, and we can be grateful to get to share in it, too. When Sam Lee covered the same track on his 2020 album ‘Old Wow’, a Folk Radio review described his collaborative rendition as “spine-tingling” and “time-stalling”. Rusby delivers all of this and more with this unexpected, mysterious, ever-so-slightly sombre interlude nestled in amidst the festive favourites.
Rusby never fails to delight us with a taste of the Christmas we all know and love whilst also invoking her own warm experiences of a childhood spent singing carols in the pubs around Yorkshire. ‘Rusby Shepherds’ is her latest take on the traditional ‘While Shepherds Watched’, featuring lively percussion and layered banjo, while the brass boys truly come into their own in a lengthy solo featured at the heart of ‘Nowell Nowell’, an enchanting reconfiguration of ‘The First Noël’, which is an all-time favourite of mine, to which Rusby does every justice. After time travelling forward into the twentieth century, we are treated not only to the joyful 1960s classic ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ (a sentiment with which Rusby would appear to agree unequivocally) but also to a staggeringly seamless mashup of ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ and ‘Sleigh Ride’. You will, indeed, get a sentimental feeling when you hear that authentic gramophone crackle. It takes a great deal of musical ingenuity to play two iconic songs off against one another with such apparent ease, and the resulting fusion is a delight to behold.
Rusby’s mischievous side overflows gloriously in two covers. ‘Arrest These Merry Gentlemen’, a parody – written by Chris Sugden and Sid Kipper – of the traditional ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’, tells the story of a group of rather less pious gentlemen partaking a little too enthusiastically in the Christmas festivities. While these unruly, shoeless revellers are brought to the attention of “Constable Joy”, the (presumably somewhat younger) protagonist of ‘Nothin’ For Christmas’ is punished by their parents for misdemeanours committed throughout the year by being deprived of all Christmas presents. A cover of the 1950s classic, ‘Nuttin’ For Christmas’, written by Sid Tepper and Roy C. Bennett, the song is instantly brought to life with brass, percussion, and electric guitar uniting to bring a catchy, almost Charleston-esque quality to proceedings, ratcheted by a thrilling increase in tempo as the song progresses. By the end, when faced with a gift-less Christmas, the child admits to feeling “quite sad” about the consequences of their actions. By contrast, any listener who has reached the final line of track ten will surely, by this point, be struggling to feel “quite sad” about anything at all.
It is, however, perhaps the more understated songs which constitute the real crème de la crème of this album. ‘A Spaceman Came Travelling’ stands out, in particular. Written and released by Chris de Burgh in 1975, this original take on the nativity story is haunting in its beauty. Rusby’s resplendent rendition of the refrain is catchy, prone to sticking in the mind long after listening, and is accompanied not only by O’Kane’s steady banjo but also by the Moog synthesiser. The resulting electronic edge to the folky feel is a bold and relatively new venture for Rusby, deployed on recent albums with mixed success. ‘A Spaceman Came Travelling’ illustrates the fruitfulness of using synthesisers in a subtle and calculated way, enhancing Rusby’s impressive vocals rather than detracting from them. All this having been said, the thoroughly stripped-back ‘Joseph’, which concludes the album, is the epitome of musical perfection. This cover of the Child Ballad-cum-hymn, previously recorded by Annie Lennox for her Christmas Cornucopia album (2010), giving the spotlight to the oft-neglected Joseph, pulses with that pure and pristine voice that has kept fans coming back for more these past thirty-two years.
Over the decades, we’ve heard about a succession of longed-for gifts that Rusby has been denied come Christmas morning – at least, if her song lyrics are to be believed, anyway…. In 2019 (Holly Head) it was a hippopotamus (only a hippopotamus would do!). Back in 2017 (Angels and Men), Santa once again failed to bring her a banjo despite repeated, tearful protestations. And I hardly dare mention the Sindy Horse she had to wait until 2013 for. Light Years, however, denies us nothing. It appears manufacturing this masterpiece was neither too much for the workshop nor too tricky for the elves (or, indeed, for the various band members who – as legend would have it – lovingly hand-knit each album individually in the back of the tour bus). It’s everything we could have hoped for and so much more. This seamless blend of old and new, tradition and novelty, epitomises what both Christmas and Kate Rusby are all about. So hang up that tinsel and grab a mince pie: the Angel of English Folk is come again, to make all our Christmas wishes come true.
Order Light Years: https://purerecords.lnk.to/LightYears