Liejacker [9/23]

構成数 : 1枚
合計収録時間 : 00:00:00
Personnel: Thea Gilmore (vocals, guitar); Dave McCabe, Joan Baez (vocals); Norman McLeod (electric guitar, slide guitar); Nigel Stonier (ukulele, piano, harmonium, Mellotron); Steve Wickham (fiddle); Laura Reid (cello); Mike Cave (percussion); Jennifer John, Erin McKeown, Sarah Dickson (background vocals). Much of Liejacker was recorded at Thea Gilmore's house as self-therapy, without the expectation that the songs would released. While longtime producer/husband Nigel Stonier later embellished the stripped down originals with subtle percussion, bass, harmonica, fiddle, and even guest vocals from Joan Baez -- an influence on Gilmore's style -- for one song, the core of the project remains stark, personal and, not surprisingly, somewhat insular. The U.S. version, which appeared four months after the U.K. edition, features a shorter (by two tracks) and reconfigured set list, but this is a powerful album in either form. The skeletal "And You Shall Know No Other God but Me," with Gilmore's intentionally distorted lead vocals sounding as if they are coming out of an old transistor radio accompanied by stark acoustic guitar, is extremely effective in a chilling way. Elsewhere, her silky vocals are given free reign to swoop through the introspective lyrics that drive this folk-based material. Two duets, one with Baez and the other the opening track where Gilmore trades vocals with Dave McCabe of the Zutons, shimmer and glow with subtle authority, enhanced by her musical partner's and Stonier's sympathetic production. Lyrically, the album throbs with vivid visual references such as "Rosie"'s "you've got needles in your eyes from all those glances that you stole," made even more striking when sung by Gilmore's honeyed voice. Subtle loops and accordion added to "Roll On" enhance the folksy vibe as she sings "I'm another tinpot poet/another infidel/they're still scrubbing at the stains of the communion wine I spilled." There's a languid sense to many tracks and they unspool at their own leisurely pace. The nearly seven-minute "Dance in New York" begins with simple acoustic guitar and voice but turns into a dark, restrained widescreen epic by its closing strains. Gilmore mixes the controlled drama of Annie Lennox with the insistent purr of the Cowboy Junkies' Margo Timmins for an intoxicating brew that beckons the listener with a combination of sensuality and drama. This is one of Gilmore's least commercially oriented albums yet, and perhaps because of that, also one of her finest. ~ Hal Horowitz