Bat For Lashes - Fur & Gold (Echo)
4/5
By: Michael Cragg
On the surface there's as much to dislike as there is like about Natasha Khan, aka Bat For Lashes. One glance at the track listing of her debut album, 'Fur And Gold', may have you running for the hills. Tracks are given titles such as 'Horse And I', 'Seal Jubilee' and 'The Wizard', helping establish a sense of irksome kookiness that is only supported if read with any of the numerous press interviews Khan has done over the past weeks. Words such as 'magical', 'ethereal' and 'luminescent' have been banded about, and all kinds of strange animal-related images are summoned to try to describe her sound ("wild swans calling" is a particular favourite). The constant comparisons to such luminaries as Bjork, Kate Bush and Cat Power haven't helped either; the weight of expectation threatening to overshadow the album before you even put it in the stereo.
Initially lumped in with the new-folk revival spear-headed by her (alleged) former beau, Devendra Banhart, Natasha Khan has since made it clear that her scope spreads wider then the restraints of ordinary folk music. Khan - a former music student with a propensity for creating sound installations - is never scared to try new things on her debut, taking in simple piano motifs, gorgeous strings, harpsichord, brass, harp and a whole treasure trove of musical instrumentation. This is all held together brilliantly by producer David Kosten (aka Faultline), who manages to rein in any tendencies to show off and allows the songs to breath when necessary, most noticeably on the gorgeous 'Sad Eyes'.
Opener 'Horse and I' displays both Kosten's ability to embellish every song and also Khan's intriguing way with a lyric. Opening with a lonely harpsichord it soon builds and builds until an urgent drum pattern and a ghostly synth propels it forward, Khan singing about being gifted a horse that may or may not have risen from the dead. It may not be to everyone's taste, but it beats listening to any other earnest balladeer lamenting a broken heart. The catchy 'Priscilla' takes handclaps and foot stomps and turns them into a percussive rhythm, over which Khan discusses settling down and domesticity, whilst 'What's A Girl To Do?' manages to fuse Phil Spector-style production with haunted melancholia. For the most part it's a record brimming with invention, and missteps are few and fleeting. When they do arrive it's usually under the weight of her influences. So some lyrics veer too close to Bjork's well-thumbed book of imagery, whilst 'Seal Jubilee' steals almost wholesale from Cat Power's back catalogue. Some may find her just too goddamn cutesy or zany, or worse, too self-conscious and affected.
But any negatives are more then outweighed by the positives on an album that reveals itself more each time you listen to it. It's an album that asks a lot from the listener, and may irk at times, but if you can get past the mythology you'll find a gorgeous gem hidden amongst some pretty grey surroundings.
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