Laura Gibson – Beast Of Seasons (Souterrain Transmissions)
So you’ve decided to sleep with a hippy. I’m sure you’ve got your reasons. It’s been a long strange road for all of us, and lord knows I’m in no position to judge. But before you dive headlong into the patchouli patch you’re going to need a few things.
Get yourself a really incomprehensible political stance. Anarcho-syndicalism is a belter. No one understands anarcho-syndicalism so why should anyone expect you to be the first, eh? You’ll also need two anecdotes, one that pitches you heroically in battle with authority and another that involves experimentation with a substance that left you incapacitated in a wood. A true pro (Alan Davies, Swampy) can combine the two. Sandalwood incense and a dopey look on your stupid face go without saying, obviously.
Lastly, you’ll need this album. The pitch, the pace, the tone, it’s the soundtrack to an evening of paisley passion. The first track, Shadows On Parade, begins oddly, prettily and dreamily, the lyrics indistinct enough to lull your potential paramour into thinking the song’s about his or her favourite topic. Fox Hunting (bad), Women’s Rights (good), Talking To Owls While Mashed Out Of Your Gourd On Mescaline (could go either way). Pop the top off a bottle of organic cider and let the lentils roll.
He or she might ask “Is this the new Joanna Newsom?” and depending on how you see the next morning going you could say “Yeah, she’s gone off a bit, loved her early stuff though. I got it way pre-release from a guy I know who steals from the bins out the back of a record studio. Yeah.” Or you could be honest and say “No, this is Laura Gibson. She’s yet another girl with a lovely voice who sounds a bit like her. I like it.” By the time you get to Spirited he or she will be tapping a grubby foot and smiling as you spar about how an outlook that bases an entire system on lawlessness can possibly be expected to spontaneously spore temporary committees to deal with socially important issues in an egalitarian fashion without creating authority or placing power in the hands of individuals (just smile widely and wisely).
Postures Bent. The name says it all. It’s slow and sultry and gorgeous. Turn the lights down low, move in close and make the crucial decision about whether to light another joss-stick or two. Funeral Song is my favourite track. Not a cheery theme, but if you’re still listening to the words by now you’re doing it all wrong. It’s the only track on the album to feature male backing vocals and alongside the occasional banjo twang and swell of brass make this a swoony, sensuous song that gave me goose bumps. The rest of the album is much of a muchness, pleasant wallpaper for what I hope will be a night that brings a resolution to whatever it was that got you to this point in the first place.
If not, you’ve got a smashing album to accompany your Pot Noodle and a little cry. Good luck!
Stephen Taylor
