It struck me, on re-listening to In the Low Light, the new album from Lucy Kitchen, that one of the things that continued to resonate with me was a sense of familiarity. Then I realised that on the opening song Blue Light, the sound of Lucy’s voice, the caressing, introspective timbre of the mood and the beautiful melancholy sound reminded me of a personal favourite present-day folk singer-songwriters, Josienne Clarke. I bring this up not only as a compliment, but also to set the scene for the type and quality of record being released here. This is one of the strongest records of its kind I have heard so far this year, an album that places the songs and the emotive stimuli that drove them into existence at the front and centre. And as openers go, this is a special one, entering with the reflective strum of an acoustic guitar and tied together by some easy electric guitar figures alongside the slow brush of a drum, all while Lucy’s voice is tender and somehow worn down by life’s bitter blows. Then, as Blue Light reaches a pitch, the kind of horns you could easily imagine playing in the background of a Lowry painting takes the scene-setting into another dimension. We have embarked on an album that will surely move every listener profoundly.
Some context is important with this one. As Lucy shares in the album notes, “A lot of it was written in the run up to and aftermath of my husband Stephen’s death from cancer.” By her own admission, Lucy turned to creativity as a coping mechanism during what must have been the darkest and toughest period. She explains that “some of the songs started off as tiny poems I started writing as a way of capturing thoughts and feelings, with no intention or pressure to turn them into songs…but over time some of them found their melody.” She does however confess that the process had its joyful side too, even going so far as to call it “life affirming” as she made “something beautiful out of something hard.” That is completely understandable, for after all, there is a celebration of life inherent in all mourning of a departed loved one. That said, with lines like “I’m not ready to let him go” leaping out of a track entitled Chemo Song, when this album hits hard, it really does pack a devastating punch.
The Boatman has an expressive organ sound that suggests the solemnity of a hymn, but as the chorus lines lift quite gloriously, it conjures the effervescent spirit heard in classic early seventies albums of a similar folk/songwriter persuasion. The loss of someone close, the longing for an absent spirit no longer in tangible form but still somehow present in essence, positively bleeds through the grooves of In My Corner. It is a song of missing, with no easy answers, that, all the same, still taps into a fountain of hope through its musical structure. Lucy has struck a healthy balance between darkness and light; despite the generally reflective mood, it is unflinching in its grief yet quietly alive with hope. Olivia offers some warmth in friendships; Red Skies is a pleasing shuffle that gleams with the sound of a pedal steel; and Sunny Days has a superb springtime jazzy burst that really does feel like sunlight breaking through. Still, overall, In The Low Light is a deep album that tackles the saddest subject matter and looks the hardest questions straight in the eye. Penultimate song, The Ways We Were, is consumed by the sense of something slipping away that you would give anything to hold on to.
Whatever your experience of loss or longing, In The Low Light may have something to offer — a reminder, perhaps, that sitting with difficult emotions, rather than pushing past them, can help. Music is, after all, a great healer.
In the Low Light (February 27th, 2026) Bohemia Rose Records/Make My Day Records