POLLY PAULUSMA is currently on tour, promoting her latest long-player, which is set to be unleashed on the 14th June.
It’s a poignant collection, one that deals with harrowing subject-matter, something that's not immediately apparent across ten tracks of dark, shadowy pop that’s instantly identified as being radio friendly despite being bass-heavy in places - the guitar work in particular stands out as a constant strength and for most of those new to Paulusma's work, this will be the way in.
The clarity of each instrument accentuates the poetry of the shuffling rhymes and understated melodies, with the shuffling stick-tapping, bass lifting ‘Where I’m Coming From’ building quickly into a cacophony of guitars, the rimshots discarded in favour of crashing hi hats. During ‘All The Time’, an easy narrative unfolds - set to a lazy, hazy country shuffle that throws up polar opposites as an emerging theme.
Yet much of the record smoulders. ‘This One I Made For You’ opens with a very realistic knocking/banging sound, as though someone’s knocking holes in concrete - but there’s no arguing with either the imaginary builders next door, the song’s delayed charm or its trancelike pull as it seems to float into the mind above the racket.
Dizzying pop heights are reached with ease at regular intervals. ‘Back To The Start’ is a huge-sounding song that’s sure to be considered for Radio 1 airplay - written in 4/4 time, it provides a solid platform for Polly’s vocals to flex with genuine abandon, as does the crazed and staring ‘Ready Or Not’. Here, a bittersweet take on domestic violence seeps through the drifting trance, perhaps the most overt display of darkness, and therefore possibly the biggest hint of the impossibly dark subtext that isn’t always easy to identify beneath the record’s accessible rock sound.
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‘Fingers & Thumbs’ is a title track ode to love’s blindness played back in slow motion. A gorgeous arpeggio threads the fragments together, as in the child-killer eyewitness penultimate track ‘The Woods’, which is a nightmare prelude to the record’s dark finale.
‘Matilda’ brings the record to a beautiful conclusion. Paulusma’s voice illuminates the gradually unfolding tale, hanging heavy on huge pauses that are agony to bear. The piano hook accentuates the childlike vulnerability of her delivery, and numbs the horror of its inevitable conclusion.
Paulusma is capable of breathtaking live performances, and this current collection is impressive even if it doesn’t perhaps fully showcase her massive vocal talent, with her voice remaining deep-set in the mix throughout this shimmering and deceptively black record.
It's a small criticism of a reflective record that is sure to leave an impression somewhere in your head, heart or soul.
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