Recent years have found us re-aligning our perceptions of contemporary music from European nations such as France and - especially of late - Scandinavian strongholds such as Denmark and Sweden - yet, with the odd exception, we still seem painfully ignorant of the Benelux countries.
Consequently, W&H were delighted to uncover majestic Belgian/ Dutch co-operative CHACDA last year and now Belgium strikes again via the wondrous AN PIERLE and her second album "Helium Sunset." I say second, as there was her 1999 debut album, "Mud Stories," yet while that did go Gold in several European countries, it's a slight effort compared with this fully-rounded and far-reaching new album, almost entirely co-written with guitarist/ producer Koen Gisen.
Pierle will surely be subjected to the inevitable PJ Harvey/ Tori Amos comparisons because she's a young, independent, photogenic character writing skewed, dangerous and almost scarily intimate songs, but she carves out a very distinctive niche for herself during "Helium Sunset" and is plainly a woman with very much an individual head placed squarely on her shoulders.
Opening tune "Sorry" gives you some idea of the scope of the album. A lovely, mournful ballad, tear-stained with piano, breathy vocals and almost religious sweeps of mellotron, it immediately introduces the intriguing ambiguities in her lyrics (e.g : "I'm flirtatious, made of ice, I'm scared deep inside") that form such an essential part of the record and its' nigh-on painfully personal observations.
An impressive start, and things rarely falter therafter. "As Sudden Tears Fall" follows and pits a trip hop-py atmosphere against warm Fender Rhodes and sounds surprisingly dangerous, while "Nobody's Fault" finds her sounding initially predatory a la Beth Gibbons over a big, sombre piano figure before she slides into a great duet with Gisen recalling Cash'n'Carter or (whisper it) Cave'n'Kylie in full-on country-psych mode.
Elsewhere, there are several truly ambitious tracks which really shove the envelope hard. "Sister" is a stern, cello'n'strings march reminiscent of Siouxsie with particularly bitter lyrics (e.g: "I've got a pretty face which automatically imp-lies I'm dumb"), while the suspense-fuelled tale of drowning love "Medusa" (mea culpa) does recall PJ Harvey and the weird, disquieting title track chucks loops, croaky accordion and huge beats into the mix with a coquettishly odd vocal more akin to Kate Bush. Hmmm.
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None of these songs take the easy route, although "Once Again" is a little more linear, with wickedly good backing vocals, a dubby bassline and a great arrangement bringing the best out of the tune and the rockier single "Sing Song Sally" riding a Nirvana-y riff and seemingly acknowledging it by cheekily nicking its' chorus line ("Better to burn than fade away") from Neil Young's "Hey Hey My My", which Kurt of course quoted in his suicide note.
Typically, though, she signs off with two particularly kooked out and distant tracks in "Leave Me There" and "Walk". The former is especially unsettling: ominous, personal apocalypse blues with weirdo organ and visceral lyrics like: "Leave me there by the fire, cover me with a blanket over my dead body." Chilling enough on its' own, but the bare, accordion-led, bleakness of the closing "Walk" is a remorseless winter's tale and the perfect, spooked epilogue for what has been a compelling album from start to finish.
An Pierle is a fascinating new talent, whose exploratory nature is married to ambitious, ever-shifting musical backdrops and unflinchingly emotional lyrics throughout "Helium Sunset." I've little doubt her profile will rise swiftly over the next twelve months.
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