Norma Waterson: The Very Thought of You (Hannibal)
Listening to this elder stateswoman of English singing, now enjoying a belated, if unlikely, Indian summer of success, it is difficult to avoid being struck by the sheer tragic beauty of her voice. This collection, the follow-up to her debut which nearly snatched the Mercury Music prize, is again rich in reflection, though there is no sense of her shaking the sentimentality tree. Of the 14 songs, 12 are divided into pairs so that, for instance, her warm reading of Richard Thompson's 1940s tribute Al Bowlly's In Heaven is tied to the standard, The Very Thought of You. Yet there is no feeling of self-consciousness; the music and the excellent playing flow to the pattern of Waterson's soft, natural deep-rooted voice, a voice honed in the folk clubs but convincingly adjusting to more complex arrangements and songs.
Joe Breen
Ilse DeLange: World of Hurt (Warner Bros)
Can a Dutch woman sing country convincingly? Well if you are 21, blonde-haired, fair-skinned and silken-voiced (with a tremolo on top), then the chances are good that the world just might listen. This is Ilse DeLange's debut album and if there is nothing in it to shake the mightily conservative walls of Nashville, there is, equally, a quietly assured performance from a singer of serious potential. She is given the five-star treatment. Producer Barry Beckett enlisted top-notch session players such as Jerry Douglas, Brent Rowan and Eddie Beyers to add their considerable weight to this collection, but the safety catch is rarely released. The smouldering World of Hurt is one exception; there are others, but the abiding impression is of a singer of power and personality just getting her feet wet.
Joe Breen
Martin Carthy: A Collection (Topic Records)
Now an MBE for his services to English folk music, the subtle lilt of Carty's soulful, unshowy singing is nicely celebrated by this early compilation (1965-1971), backed by Dave Swarbrick's fiddle/mandolin. Many songs hark back centuries, like the cutting child-marriage lament, The Trees They Do Grow High, the richly allegorical Bloody Gardener, even a fragrant Scarborough Fair. There are Irish melodies (Poor Murdered Woman), with complex, wandery phrases worthy of Andy Irvine (Cold Haily Windy Night, or Seven Yellow Gypsies, so mightily covered by Planxty). Carthy has also just released his first solo album in 10 years in the UK, but I mention this new CD reissue as he and his good woman, Norma Waterson, grace the Earagail Festival next week.
Mic Moroney