The very term ‘Christmas Album’ is usually enough to strike fear into the heart of the discerning music head out there, yet W&H does occasionally stumble on a slice of festive fare that helps to deaden the Yuletide pain meted out by the likes of Sir Cliff and the heinous Mr. Cowell.
Previous recipients of the coveted W&H ‘Christmas record that doesn’t suck’ awards have been Low with their gloriously sombre ‘Christmas’ mini-LP and also Kate & Anna McGarrigle. This year, though, your reviewer would like to suggest the bouquet go to THEA GILMORE: the renowned Oxford singer/ songwriter who has fashioned an intimate, cohesive and base-covering album which helps to rescue some of the magic of the season from the jaws of commercial mediocrity.
While your reviewer must confess relative ignorance of Ms. Gilmore’s back catalogue thus far, ‘Strange Communion’ is a fine record on its’ own terms and as good an introduction to her wares as any. It’s suffused with beauty, treats this much-abused time of year with the respect it deserves and keeps you on your toes along the way.
Don’t believe me? OK, well how about a surprising acapella showcase for starters? Although this writer tends to get a bit sick of ‘ethereality’ per se, he’s not incapable of making the occasional exception to the rule. Katy Carr’s recent album was one such situation and ‘Strange Communion’s opening track ‘Sol Invictus’ is another. A rising choral feast with (I assume) a multi-tracked choir of Theas rising for the stars, it’s breathtaking in its scope and quite an introduction into the bargain.
Thankfully, Gilmore rarely takes her foot off the gas from thereon. Songs like ‘Drunken Angel’ and the self-explanatory ‘Thea Gilmore’s Midwinter Toast’ are graceful, elegiac set pieces about the less-celebrated, melancholy side of Christmas that most of us recognise if we’re honest. When she sings “through all the damage done I have turned and I have learned to make next year a better one” on the latter, it’s all-too easy to relate to and it provides one of the record’s key moments.
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At the other end of the spectrum, she’s got a festive Pop Hit up her sleeve courtesy of ‘That’ll Be Christmas’ if she so desires. With its’ mildly funky rhythm, lo-key loops and a well-observed lyric (“rain falling and a chance of snow, Jona Lewie on the radio, French beer and mistletoe”), it’s a great toe-tapping snapshot of the Yuletide most of us encounter, at least to a degree.
Less obviously recognisable are the two covers: the obscure Elvis Costello/ Paddy Maloney co-write ‘St. Stephen’s Day Murders’ (which revels in percussive guitars and builds into a stomping, Celtic-tinged hoolie) and Yoko One’s ‘Listen, The Snow Is Falling’ which is re-invented with grace and dignity to spare and – against long odds – may actually be the prettiest thing of all here.
All of which is enough to secure this writer’s blue riband, yet before she’s finished, Gilmore’s also treated to us a Richard Thompson-style rebel rocker (‘Cold Coming’), the loneliness –across-the- miles that seeps through the surface of ‘December In New York’ and an odd, but engaging spoken-word piece called ‘Book of Christmas’. This latter is a bit like a less-fatalistic relation to the Tindersticks’ ‘My Sister’ and almost as inspired in its’ own downbeat, taking-down-the-tree kinda way.
‘Strange Communion’, then, is a non-denominational treat. It brings the magic and wonder of Christmas back to the top of the seasonal agenda and while it’s too late to ask Santa for it this year, it’s one that will keep to be enjoyed in years to come. Congratulations Thea. We raise a seasonal glass to you round at W&H Towers. The Ghost of Christmas Present can have Sir Cliff’s gifts.
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