Annette Buckley
“The Ever-Changing Colours of the Sea”
Opening with a spare piano/harpsichord intro, like snow falling, “Her winter’s coat” tells a short tale of romance. Not romance in the sense of flowers and valentines, but in the gothic sense, in the sense of “Wuthering Heights”, in the sense of grand themes, futile loss and tragic loves. Following this with “If you follow”, a driving song filled with yearning, the tone for the whole album is set. Bar one.
The style of the songs varies somewhat, touching on Moloko in “So Free”, nodding in the direction of the sound produced by Bulgarian Women’s choirs (remember the Bulmer’s ads?) in ‘Miracle’ and, to the ears of this reviewer, having more than a passing resemblance to Laura Branigan’s “Self-Control” on the track “Into your arms”.
Overall, however, and running throughout the tracks, the feel is that of one who has been wounded deeply and is veering between remembered pain, anger, resignation and yearning for the love once known. ‘Whirlwind’ especially has a poignancy, which can leave you staring into the middle distance (or possibly not – depending on your level of personal cynicism).
It is nigh on impossible to ignore the pain running though this work. In fact, especially after “Grey Love”, you may find yourself wondering just how much and/or often this woman has been through the mill, or alternately, has she overdosed on the works of Byron and Shelley? The lyrics are beautiful though – “Tangled” makes up for being a variation on a theme (“Her Winter’s Coat” - again, according to this reviewer) through the imagery used: “Tangled roses turned and twisted beneath my wings like lovers kissing”.
It closes with an acoustic repeat of “Miracle”, possibly to hammer home the overall feel of the work. A lyric including “The grass is greener on the other side. That’s what all the people say. But when you get there it’s only colder, the black and white of the day. So send me a miracle. Send me a miracle. Why don’t you send me a miracle to save me from this day?” accompanied by wailing female vocals can leave you in no doubt about the intended sense of desperation.
This is a dark and brooding album, with Ms Buckley striding above and below it with a voice, which is rich and powerful and perfectly suited to it. It warrants more than one listen. Better yet, try and catch her live.
I almost forgot to mention the one glimmer of sunlight among the emotional murk. Track 3, “Honeysuckle”, is a simply gorgeous, lilting number – just don’t listen to the lyrics too closely: "I come alive when you’re looking sad, I come alive when you’re feeling bad, I come alive with everything I have because you’re my honey love" might not necessarily warm the cockles of your intended’s heart.
