Albums

Much of the album is about the constant interplay between pastoral prettiness and modern-world weirdness, about how there is strangeness and partial alienation in what we think we know…It is this tension that makes the whole album so beautiful, and so unnerving.

An album to listen to in the same stillness and hush in which it’s delivered, soaking up the sadness, the hope, the sense of a life lived, it’s a quiet resolution.

On their latest release, Rura return to being an instrumental band. Penning all the tunes themselves, In Praise of Home is a fresh, coherent whole that fully utilises the band’s excellent traditionally rooted musicianship and at the same time never sounds anything less than completely contemporary.

Powerfully sung in clear, distinctive tones,  it’s at moments like this that Browne soars above the comparisons and influences with a voice that’s very much her own.

This brilliant, eclectic and challenging new folk and experimental compilation has attracted a stellar cast of contributors while raising vital money for vulnerable young people in Southend. All in a very worthwhile cause.

Anchor is a deeply intelligent and fresh selection of songs. The theme of perennial bonds through family friends and music shows its hand throughout and wraps up something very special. Another deeply satisfying, beautifully sang and arranged album of songs from a peerless musical family.

Catching Scott Matthews at Newcastle’s The Clunny our writer is drawn into a reflection on his songs of loneliness and disconnection in an age where both are rife. A reminder of the part live music plays – to get the experience and emotion release you don’t get from a screen.

An Introduction To Martin Simpson more than adequately showcases both his undoubted skills as one of the world’s finest acoustic, finger-style and slide guitarists but also his transformation into one of the folk world’s undoubted national treasures.

On Matchstick Men, a mingling of Celtic rock and quiet introspection shades much of the album, the songs steeped in reflection and a sense of unease with the present and who or what we are. Despite the self-doubts implicit in the title and many of the lyrics, there’s nothing rudimentary about this.

KELD is an album of eerie, understated beauty that combines folk traditions with experimental soundscapes. Both timeless and modern, it connects old and new and adds another fascinating chapter to the ever-evolving saga of British folk music.

Castle has long had a fascination with the notion of death and transformation, here, inspired by Joan Didion’s book about grieving – On Grim Reaper, she talks of how her songs hold “the colours of my life.”  They are iridescent.

Part of the Light finds Ray LaMontagne back on the more familiar territory of hooks and choruses, folkier offerings and psychedelic hues that let the sunshine in.