Big Stir 2024
Can chamber folk be adventurous? Yes – when it channels the charms of nature, human and otherwise.
Circus For Sale
Rebecca Hall and Ken Anderson have never been scared to unscramble the secret, and sacred, heart of their songs, but they have never been in a hurry to reveal it either; however, the Vermont couple’s fourth full-length platter comes close to spilling it all out – or so it seems. Sure, “Circus For Sale” lets the listener put the artists’ sun-dappled mystery under a microscope, yet they sprinkle the surface of almost every piece on display with blinding nuance to distract the audience from seeing too much. This is par for the course, of course, given that, apart from a few cuts, the album’s material was penned at the onset of pandemic only to see the release after optimism got restored while people’s desire to feel both lulled and surprised stayed the same. So if there’s an emotional dichotomy the dozen psychedelia-tinctured numbers on offer capture such turmoil just perfectly – wrapping ties which bind around the tunes which enchant.
And how can the duo’s approach be any different when “Another Year” weaves its carousel-spin wonder into a waltz where acoustic guitars are drenched in a shimmering gauze of simmering organ and vocals float on this reverie-bound pillow until the titular track embraces scintillating dreams – adorned with mandolin filigree and dulcimer detail – for a suspended-animation treatment? And though folk fibers of what’s going on here may sound soporific in places, even in “Feel Like Falling” and “Trillium And Columbine” whose orchestral slant will cast a spell on many an ear, the calm should turn out false way before the lush “Late New England (Afternoon In June)” picks up where “One Morning In May” from the Ken and Rebecca’s 2007 eponymous debut left off. With Hall reprising a gorgeous murder ballad “Man Of Poor Fortune” from her quarter-century-old solo record to harness unquietness and then delivering a hypnotic cover of Bert Jansch’s “Morning Brings Peace Of Mind” to revert the anxious effect, timeless specters arrive at the scene to drive Anderson’s very English arrangement of “Green Grow The Laurels” to the verge of bliss.
And if “Tuesday Sun” enhances that state with electric flutter and playful grace, and the cello-abetted “Gravity” defies its own title, there’s also an unexpected down-to-earth pull in the harmonica riff of “Little Bird” and a solemn uplift in “Leaving” which closes the album by leading the flock to the cathedral. A genuinely spiritual experience.
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