Adventurous debut from godmother of feminist rock; a dark, atmospheric and intense take on traditional Irish folk that got me to learn a new genre, doom folk.
GINA BIRCH
I Play My Bass Loud
I’m sorry to say that prior to this year I’ve never heard of Gina Birch or her post-punk group the Raincoats, who were a massive influence on bands like Bikini Kill and my beloved Sleater-Kinney. Now in her late 60s, the founder and bassist Gina Birch released this album that feels like listening to candid confessions of a cool older friend.
Birch’s magnetic personality and maverick spirit are instantly compelling on the opening title track, driven by the reggae-inspired bass. Throughout the record, she’s by turn joyful, vulnerable, funny, mouthy and enraged, layering and experimenting with her vocals that sound both aged and youthful. Though bass dominates the proceedings, the album is a fun scrapbook of sounds, from electronic to squealing 90s-rock guitars on Wish I Was You.
Above all, I just love how playful this record is. Birch is very direct with her feminist messaging, but she also delivers it with a great deal of humour on songs like I Will Never Wear Stilettos, which both mocks restrictive women’s fashion and comments on the danger and violence women might face on a late night out. Big Mouth meanwhile is a hilarious critique of gossip, with Birch shifting the vocal pitch up and down to create a whole cast of characters who by the end are all upset with each other.
LANKUM
False Lankum
I can’t think of a recent song that floored me harder than Go Dig My Grave, my first taste of this Dublin group. A retelling of a classic folk song about doomed love, it begins with the singer Radie Peat’s rich, crystal-clear vocals that sound unnervingly like coming from a much older woman, ancient even. She is then accompanied by the eerie, disembodied notes before the song reaches its tragic climax and explodes into several minutes of droning outro with dramatic strings straight out of a gothic horror movie. It felt like the heaviest, bleakest song I wanted to listen to over and over again. I’ve never heard of the term “doom folk” before, but it sounds just right.
A full album of this much despair and hopelessness would probably be overwhelming, so while nothing else on False Lankum grabbed me with quite the same intensity, I was also grateful for the variety of mood offered by the calm and gorgeous acoustic numbers like Clear Away in the Morning. The sinister drone and experimental touches still give many of these re-imagined old songs a startlingly original feel. By the time they finish, many songs sound nothing like when they’ve started; a song like Master Crowley’s begins as a lively Irish reel, before it ends with clanging and scratching sounds that make your stomach clench a bit.
My only complaint about this sprawling, ambitious, spectral album is the relative lack of Radie Peat, who kinda retreats from centre stage after making such a knockout entrance with Go Dig My Grave. This is still a powerful statement from a band who clearly have a strong feel and love for the old and traditional, yet manage to make it their own.
yggdrasille.com 