Formed within the depths of southern Britain, in the quirky creative hub of Brighton late November 2011, Written In Waters is a quintet with passionate aspirations and an urge to push the boundaries of sound beyond the tested formats.
With Beth Cannon (Vocals), George McKenzie (Guitar), Lawrence Jenner (Bass), James Stewart (Drums) and newly found Jim Baldock (Keys) the dedicated collective have captivated an array of minds in their vast growth within a year.
Their production is a mix of infinite possibilities; The complexity of prog with the intelligence of jazz, the wistful workings of indie with a textured metal rising. The importance is a unique individuality; the soaring operatic vocals of Beth Cannon can silence any venue into awe as an exciting new movement is heard.
Written In Waters are on the brink of something incredible, changing the way music is developed, listened and played. Brimming with audacious ideas the band thrive with exciting passion that erupts when played. The arrival of the debut Written In Waters marks the first cemented landmark for the band from which an array of masterful plans will continue to develop as the collective grow with it.
We listened to ‘Written In Waters’ – the debut album. Here’s what we thought:
The disc starts with ‘Hymn’. It has those sad, lonely chords that seem to descend from the roost like solitary birds on a frost-cold night. Beth’s voice stands out from the darkness like a shadow in a hood. Tangled fingers, and bones of lace. A dull beat of perpetual desire leads you onwards, with great blessing. Just when you think you have taken it all in, the voice flutters and strikes, like an eagle stalking her prey – only to rise later and take flight. This is quite exceptional.
‘Ligeia’ is a complex puzzle of sounds and shimmering bells and rattles. Then ‘Love in Exile’ comes along with a perky jazz-feel to it. It has a stubby nose and is full of curiosity. Reminiscent of Pink Floyd, the piano on this track glides smoothly around the chocolate-smothered voice. Stepping deftly around the pattering drumbeats, the tune squirrels into your head.
‘Drunk Rather Deep’ is like a blurry cabaret showroom song. You can inhale the sweet smoke if you want, but do not let it go to your head. Beth’s voice is surrounded by buxom accompaniments – flexible and reliable – until they get slightly out-of-control. The a fizzing rock guitar thunders out from nothing, and the fuse is lit.
‘The Fall’ is a full-scope progressive mini-symphony. Sometimes it reminds us of the fervour of ‘Alabama Shakes’. But it is also laced with the kind of prog-rock inventiveness that you thought was outdated. Thirty years ago. How refreshing to go back and re-visit those sounds.
‘The Hour I Last Believed’ is like a shooting star that spits his silvery light into the velvety sky. It is a lonely thing, but it holds you in its grip. Mesmerized by the beauty. The vocals are cavernously deep, empty and incredibly barren. The keyboards just brush over the surface. Dribbling a little sweet sound onto the raw meats – like treacle to a bun.
-© Neil_Mach January 2013 –
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