When you take ‘English Rain’ as a poetic notion it evokes pleasant images – a light shower, perhaps, to freshen up the bluebell woods. Or a pleasantly refreshing spritz to cool things down before bedtime on a sultry summer evening.
But of course, this is nonsense. When you take time to really think about ‘English Rain’ you remember the miserable truth. The daily deluge is actually the boring and regular backdrop to all of our lives – on this forlorn windswept island in the North Sea. Disrepair and soggy ruin is everywhere. And the unceasing rain just makes things a whole lot worse. But we get on with it don’t we? We just “Get up and get going.” That’s our shared motto. Sod the bloody rain
And so Gabrielle Aplin has decided to title her debut album ‘English Rain’. What a beautiful and poetic idea. Or is it?
Aplin is the girl who wrote her first song ‘Ghosts’ at age 14 and set up her own record label at age 17 (she has she since signed to Parlophone. ) But she is probably best remembered as the girl who brought us that bleached-out version of Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “The Power of Love” at Christmas. Thanks for that. The song reached No. 1 in the UK Singles Chart and was played endlessly on John Lewis TV ads. So Aplin is the very essence of a “newcomer with experience.”
The new album includes 12 songs, and has already been chalked up – by some – as ‘boring’. Well, is it?
The album begins with ‘Panic Cord’ – (Aplin shares writing credits with Nicholas Atkinson and Jez Ashurst on this one.) On this track there is an agreeable scatter-brain bead-box of gentle tapping percussion, with some fine-combed country accompaniments and very delicate picked guitar. That voice is radiant and charitable. It glows in the dark. The chorus is warm and friendly. But the trembling sub-text of the song is one of self-reflection and regret. “I pulled the panic chord – maybe I’m the one to blame ….” She says. “Maybe you were just too nice to me…” The words stumble out like an unwitting confession.
‘Keep on Walking‘ is a thumping call and response song. It revives the Southern spiritual. The vocals may be as sweetly churned as meringue-based buttercreams, but the lyrics retain a tartaric sourness to them: “I feel much better you’re not around …. so keep on walking”. This is certainly not wet or boring. It’s subtle in it’s delicious wickedness.
The album’s second single “Please Don’t Say You Love Me” has a Country and Western twang to it. You can imagine the local moms kicking their heels to it at the club line-dance in the village hall. As usual, this is a confessional hymn “I’ve been a fool – I’ve been a fool before”. It is revealing and intimate.
Longish track ‘Home’ has a gentle piano and some more of those tenderly strummed chords. A masculine backing vocal is very agreeable. ‘Home’ is not, apparently ”Just somewhere to lay your head.” Gabby tells us informatively. But this song is also about being on the road – and so having to take your home along with you ‘inside your head’. But if your home is a place to share – to share with a loved one – then how do you take that with you ‘inside your head’? That is the bittersweet angle of this song. It talks about ‘the home’ that we can’t take with us.
“Ready to Question” has a big school-choir feel to it. Aplin’s vocal dips and soars like a falcon, as it flies around the great scenery. And she’s a fast bird. Skimming, flittering, diving and falling. Then “The Power of Love” comes up. Even if you feel tempted to skip this one, it may be best to give it a play. It is actually a shimmering glorified apparition of a song. And it is one of the very few popular songs written about the ‘Holy Spirit’… So if you are of charismatic persuasion, you might want to try this one out.
Perhaps to be “Alive” and to be “Human” you need the power of holiness pumping in your veins – along with the normal blood and water. And ‘Alive’ is a song about passion and kindness. “It’s not too late … Just rely on me now.” she suggest. Then in “Human” Aplin begs the other (male?) to prove that he is human by showing some faults. We can all connect with that notion can’t we? This is a song about the sin of pride. Pride can take over someone – and it creates an impenetrable shield. Then their individual beauty cannot shine through. “I love your flaws […] crave your mistakes …” She says. Yes, the ‘demon’ here is self-perceived perfection.
In “November” we finally get the allusion about “the English Rain.” This song thuds against you like the bleary-eyed splots of icy water that drench us all year round. The kind of rain that soaks us through to our bones. It is cold and heartbreaking. And you feel utterly dejected. The vocal on this track is pale and hazy – and the guitar feels soggy and abandoned. But it is an incredibly poignant number. This is rewarding, suggestive and virtuous.
The album concludes with ‘Start of Time’ with guitar twangs and a spooky voice that shimmers and spirals out of control. It is smoky at times, but always lacy and trembling. The voice soaks deep into your skin. And then it gradually warms you up. Just like the sun. Which will come out. Eventually. Even in England. Keep chanting for it. Keep praying for it. And it will come.
Far from being ‘boring’ this is an enormously enjoyable and interesting album. There are contours to explore, high-points to climb, and there are deep gullies to discover.
Play it. Enjoy it. And never mind the English bloody Rain.
– © Neil Mach May 2013 –
RAW RAMP 