In the beginning, a blanket of pipe organs mimic departing boats, married off fittingly to the opening lines of Patrick Kavanagh’s The Great Hunger (1942). An epic poem who’s lines don’t just paint a vivid picture, but ignite a conceptual flame, combusting into arguably O’Neill’s finest, and certainly most self-assured record to date.
It’s been a while since we last heard from Lisa O’Neill, but nonetheless her name remains ever relevant; her music being featured prominently at the end of a recent episode of peaky blinders, as well as now being in the shadow of 5 BBC folk award nominations. Following such accolades may sound difficult, but O’Neill has made it look effortless.
The opening track alone feels (to me) like a future staple from the folk music genre. A beautifully crafted piece, with rewards that are truly astounding, somehow outwitting itself when the ebbing and flowing of it’s dynamic layers are stripped away, and O’ Neill’s voice is left alone with it’s minimal instrumental support. The commanding 6 minutes set up a Gaia theory thread, which leaves a lasting lyrical cycle throughout the remaining 7 tracks, each venturing with great mettle into different philosophical topics.
Often the instrumentation follows a different path to what is expected. It feels cinematic, with many lending themselves heavily to the rich texture of strings. Take ‘Old Note’ for instance, whose dreamy Hollywood drone sways in monochrome tones, taking on a massive evolution from it’s live carnation. Some time a few years ago I saw her play it stripped down with a guitar. She compared her new song to what Irish traditionalists will say about song writing; how they get their inspiration from the musical sounds of ‘the wind…, or the fairies’, to quote her directly. It was a gripping moment then, and now it sounds better than before. Thoughtful room is left at the end for O’Neill’s delighted young niece in conversation. A daring, and yet successful endeavour, delivering a similar lasting effect to Stevie Wonder’s ‘Isn’t She Lovely’, bringing home an emotive childhood innocence.
Childlike nature permeates time and again throughout the album. Take the sprightly banjo number, ‘Silver Seed’. A piece that reads like a generational fable, read by a wise mother, warning of the terrors of heartbreak. Every so often it is broken up with a birdlike yelp, which adds a ton of colour to the track. As expected to oldtime fans, many bird references come up not just here, but throughout the rest of the album. Most notably maybe on the curious ‘Birdy From Another Realm’, where O’Neill pays tribute to the hierarchy of birds, showing a particular love for the peacock. It’s a beautiful moment, and a breezy release from the modern human world, only subtly criticised on a track like ‘If I Was A Painter’, putting a lens on humanity’s fall from grace, selling themselves to the new and now. Lisa excels at this genre of storytelling always.
It’s as if every particle of time is grasped in detail on ‘Whist, The Wild Workings Of The Mind’. O’Neill sits, weighing up the big questions in fragile hands, holding a face of tears that don’t fall. It’s instrumentation is distant and reflective, as if to sum up all the albums previous parts. With a construction like that, it frankly could’ve ended the record, the way I often think Hello Earth is powerful enough to end Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love. The final moment is no snoozer, just a bookended encore, and like the opening track, ends with O’Neill whistling away to herself. A reassuring lullaby, Goodnight World.
Key Tracks: All Of This Is Chance, Silver Seed, Old Note, Birdy From Another Realm, If I Was A Painter, Whist, The Wild Workings Of The Mind
