Sam Brookes - Black Feathers (Album Review)
It’s been six years since Sam Brookes emerged with his warmly-received debut Kairos and its follow-up, Black Feathers, is the product of a period of change and loss for the artist. Following the passing of his father, the breakdown of a relationship and the death of a close friend, the album that Brookes felt compelled to make next is, as you might expect, a reflective and soul-scouring affair - he calls it a “meditation on grief” - but remarkably there’s little about Black Feathers that feels maudlin or macabre.
The striking videos that accompany three of the album’s singles show Brookes being, among other things, stalked, embraced and manipulated by a mascara-drenched and befeathered crow character. This visually arresting dumb show is inspired by the Max Porter novel ‘Grief Is The Thing With Feathers’, (it’s weird but you really must read it) which tackles the subject of bereavement in a similarly refreshing way; exploring the ways in which the grief you appear to be lost in can ultimately show you the way through.
Brookes’ impressive and emotive vocal delivery has often led to comparisons with Jeff Buckley but there is more concision and comfort to be found in this voice. There’s Scott Matthews warmth, a Thom Yorke flutter and a John Martyn haze to Brookes’ raw performances, which are captured and exquisitely realised by producer Dom Monks. Languid opener ‘Ekarma’ shuffles innocuously, allowing that vocal to weave and soar, birdlike, before the frenetic pounding of ‘Sinking Boats’ really bares the record’s teeth. The song, sparked by the devastating news report of a 3 year-old refugee who died while crossing the Mediterranean, is unflinching in its call for kindness and collective responsibility. “Don’t turn away from what you see” sings Brookes’ at the song’s opening and in the chorus, he implores “tell your children not to do what we have done”. This more than sobering moment gives way to the simpler, acoustic breeziness of ‘18 & Sleeping’, which evokes the fug of listlessness and loneliness. Its jauntiness, while initially seeming incongruous, helps to create an uncommonly light portrait of the necessary stasis of depression, as does its surreal but light-hearted video.
The record continues in this quietly brilliant way as Brookes leads us gently, carefully through a litany of hope-filled sadnesses. The intricate, Janschian strum-picking of ‘Falling’, supported by heavenly upright bass, sits well alongside the Nick Drakey fragility of ‘Black Feathers’ but both are given Brookes’ and Monks’ own stamp with more chaotic percussion and unexpected musical detours. In contrast, the disarmingly simple ‘Be Free’ - the album’s shortest piece - is one of the sweetest things you are likely to hear within the confines of two and three-quarter minutes. Equally mellifluous is the Tom Baxterish ‘Into The Night’, draped with strings and cascading piano. Similarly opulent are ‘Granite’ and ‘Fools On Saturn’, both making use of Brookes’ large range with octave doubling in the vocal parts. Bolder and more striking than these, though, is ‘The Sleeper’ which closes the record. The suitably hypnotic track is built around a scratchy, repeated guitar pattern, sprinkled with atmospherics and midway through, the track begins to build, first with overlaid vocal interruptions and then with a monster of a drum part courtesy of Ethan Johns. It’s a powerful and slightly jarring end to a record that is powerful and slightly jarring in all the right ways.
Carefully produced and lovingly constructed, a finer chunk of absorbing, modern folk you will be hard pressed to find. For all the woes at its centre, Black Feathers somehow never feels miserable or self-indulgent; it’s a work of introspection that actively draws the listener in. It may not put a spring in your step but it does offer to walk beside you, like some mysterious emotional companion. It is the sound of calm inside the storm and of light emanating from the darkest places.
Review by Rich Barnard
Black Feathers is out now via Go Slowly Records.
One of the positive aspects of running Red Guitar Music is that you encounter all manner of different musical genres that you wouldn’t necessarily find on your own. The RGM Inbox is positively overflowing with the good, the bad and, yes, the ugly (although something we find unlistenable is probably the best thing in the world to someone). One example that falls squarely in the good category of pleasant surprises is The Happy Couple, discovered on a recent visit to London’s Green Note, where the duo opened for Dimple Discs labelmate Kelsey Michael.