“Shhh is standing up against the noise mongers of the world and hitting back with an all day celebration of quiet music. Taking place in the beautiful surroundings of Cecil Sharp House in Camden, North London the event will be a chance for performers and audience alike to come together in quiet unison. Now into its fourth year (and the second installment of 2010!), starting at The Spitz back in who knows when, The Local has presented all manner of the quiet stuff in sympathetic surrounds, and the good news is: everyone listens.”

The creative step-up from said debut LP – 2008’s A Distant Voice – to this freshly-baked second full-length is remarkable in its elevation.  Following on from the detour into stripped-down two-person diversity on theHelm EP earlier this summer, Twin Feathers finds the five-piece incarnation of the group learning to stretch out with wider ambitions, whilst exercising more self-control and crafted subtelty.  Whereas A Distant Voicesometimes resorted to amplified crescendos to leave its mark a tad too heavily, here the quintet use noise eruptions sparingly to allow for a greater range of instrumental textures and for more abundant alluring vocals spots from co-leaders Rachel and Xavier Watkins.  The combined results form an album that uncoils steadily with thoughtful evocative arrangements and warm, empathic moodscapes.

Musically, the broader palette paints scenes that are distanced from the Godspeed/Mogwai-indebtedness ofA Distant Voice. Wintry wordless post-baroque pieces stitch together the record’s flowing eclectic passages, as the opulent “Obscura” and the Eastern European-flavoured “Lucida” reveal.  There’s a significant influence felt from the pastoral pastures of Fairport Convention and Pentangle too, albeit fed through the acid-folk FX-pedals of Espers; as majestically expressed on the yearning “Fallen Trees” and on the harmony-drenched “The Sea And The Heather”.  It isn’t just bucolic impulses that gently push Twin Feathers into motion however; as the fluid balminess and purposeful angularity of primetime Yo La Tengo (circa-Painfuland Electr-O-Pura) underpins the gently-lapping to storm-building waves of “Through Water” and “Shipwrecks”.

Beyond that, there is some noticeable affection for the deeply-loved Dirty Three, that almost automatically comes to any latter-day leftfield band with a violinist as a primary player.  But with such thinly-veiled Horse Stories/Ocean Songs nods as “The Museum Song” and “Slowing Time” tugging so strongly at the heart-strings, the ensemble at least know how to make any plagiarist crimes pay.  Perhaps the highest watermark of Twin Feathers comes when all of the aforementioned tributaries meet in a rich confluence on the gorgeously redemptive eight minute “Rituals”, that concludes itself with an uplifting brass-fueled coda washing over the swirl of richly-mixed sounds.

Like last year’s crowning glory for Little Red Rabbit Records – Lazarus Clamp’s still life-enriching Against Entitlement - Twin Feathers manages to keep sturdy footholds in both artful urban and earthy rural worlds without succumbing to the constrictive clichés that dominate either.  In the process, this collection is set to become one of 2010’s most beguiling treasures.  Given the well-landscaped evolutionary incline that Fuzzy Lights’ career path has taken thus far, even greater peaks should be reached next time around too. Until then though, this is one lengthy long-player to get truly and happily lost in.

July 16, 2010 by Adrian P.

MMM ½

By JA

Perhaps feasting on invertebrates wasn’t actually necessary during their sessions as the music on the EP is actually rather beautiful and touching, suggesting that nothing too traumatic occurred during their Peak District jaunt, but there are some harrowing moments to be found on Helm.

This is an almost ethereal set of songs which are rather hard to stay focused on as they drift across the receptors of the brain – numbing them as they go.

‘Things We Left Behind’ is introduced with a drum beat that bontempi would be embarrassed by such is its the tinny, rudimentary construction. Two seconds in and it’s not looking too good. Such concerns are quickly swept to one side by narcoleptic vocals from Rachel and Xavier that drift along in a daze which is beyond apathetic. Droning keyboards add a further layer of heavy-lidded dozing to proceedings and when sweeping violins are gracefully added into the mix, the oppressive haze becomes all enveloping.

‘Aira’ is a rustic folk song that wouldn’t have sounded out of place had it crept on to Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’ soundtrack for The Road. Deft finger picked guitars dance around elegant violins as the mood switches constantly between the beautiful and the terrifying. There is something black of heart lurking with the atmospheric wonder of ‘Aira’. It never quite makes itself known but it is almost certainly there.

‘Burn With Light’s’ discordant violins leave no doubt in the mind that there’s something unpleasant going on. No matter how many angelic voices Fuzzy Lights thrown into the mix and how relentless the single repeated motif is, it is all too disturbing to induce the hypnotic state achieved by ‘Things We Left Behind’.

Things are bought to a close with ‘Black Diamond’, which returns to the folkier leanings of ‘Aira’. Rachel Watkins provides a ghostly vocal that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in the Wicker Man while the droning violins evoke images of a slowly setting sun, cooling in the waters of the horizon. It’s basic, but enormously effective.

The only problem with Helm is that it is an EP and by the last few notes, the sense that there aren’t more of these evocative soundscapes to immerse yourself in is utterly disappointing – unlike every otherworldly moment of this EP.

Sam Shepherd

Of the four resulting tracks on offer opener ‘Things We Left Behind’ is the dud. The thin processed beats infect the otherwise adequate tune with an awkward rhythm that ruins any chance I have of engaging with the song. The rest of ‘Helm’ though is a resounding success.

If you have are obsessed like me with the likes of Silver Mt. Zion and Godspeed You Black Emperor then ‘Aira’ and the beautifully enchanting ‘Burn With Light’ will enthral you and get you digging out those old Constellation Records releases. The creaky violins and distant choral chants juxtapose with the bright hook laden melodies to create a timeless trio of songs that culminate with ‘Black Diamond’ where Rachel takes a lead vocal role. This song is the folksier of the three and the closest to what fans of the band would recognise as a standard Fuzzy Lights song. The way her vocals are buried creates a haunting edge to the track that although has become common practise today (see the delightful Broadcast and the Focus Group album released last year for evidence of this) still works well enough to leave the listener spooked.

If the band had omitted the drum machine on ‘Things We Left Behind’ they would find themselves here with a near perfect EP as any band in any era or location could ever dream of making. Even with its opening affliction ‘Helm’ must be considered nothing short of a flawed masterpiece.

Paul Waller

Fuzzy Lights – Things We Left Behind from Fuzzy Lights on Vimeo.

I’ve got to admit that this is the first Fuzzy Lights recording I’ve heard, and it has left me in quite the tizzy. Sitting here on a sunny Sunday evening, tapping away like a flustered Woodpecker on a tea stained keyboard; normally at this time of the day I’m weeping wilder than Harvey Keitel in the original Bad Lieutenant, lamenting my woes. Today is different; I am actually overwhelmed with feelings of bliss.

‘Things We Left Behind’ with its Casio keyboard generic drum beat, and Bowie’s Low atmospherics mix with Xavier’s contemplative tone. ‘Aira’ provides thorny strings; parched throats wait for a voice that never comes. ‘Burn With Light’ soundtracks a wingspan in flight, then a feather tears away, falling into harsh bracken.

Pause for thought. What the hell am I jabbering on about?
Oh, yeah. This is moving, stirring, uplifting music. Rounded off by ‘Black Diamond’ (no, not a cover of the Kiss classic) which again sprinkles dandelion light acoustics with those sharp strings, Rachel Watkins provides a ghostly testimony from a distant hilltop somewhere miles away. The last minute of the song descends into unsympathetic rainfall.
Excuse the prattling prose. Listen to this EP.

08/06/2010 Richard Wink