Esben And The Witch - Violet Cries
- Written by Joe Bates
The BBC Sound of 2011 award, recently claimed by Jessie J, is a funny thing. The most comforting way to think about it is that it is a just a way to get more people listening to Radio 1, a reminder not to be put-off by the exercise in sheer pain that is its output from 6am to 8pm, and that it actually likes to play some new interesting stuff. But that's probably not it. More-likely, it's an effort by this public service broadcaster to do a public service, to reignite a record industry that seems flagging, possibly because of the way the internet has made it harder than ever for new artists to build a stable career.
The legitimacy of the whole thing is questionable. But it certainly got people talking about the 15 artists covered, Esben And The Witch included. They fall into a similar category to the James Blake's of the list, perhaps more dependent on such lists and shout-outs than others because they lack the immediacy of those such as Jessie J. Not a million miles away from the hysteria and towering sounds of Bat for Lashes and Zola Jesus, their big distinguishing feature is that they use guitars. A lot of guitars.
On opener Argyria, the build-up involves adding a new layer of guitar every time, and from then on, the whole album tends towards using phased-out arpeggios (to denote the peaceful sections) and overdriven power-chords (to denote the chaotic bits; you'll recognise them when they come). The electronics that come into it achieve the same effect. The lead singer, Rachel Davies, manages to somehow fit more drama on top of these guitar and electronics pileups, and she is so doomed-sounding you'd suspect she'd get a 'cheer up love, it might never happen!' from Thom Yorke if she passed him in the street.
None of these things spell a bad record, but Violet Cries is one unfortunately. I say unfortunately because it's not like it's a bad record for any cynical or compromising reason – the band have their own sound and it isn't one that is particularly fashionable at the moment, apart from the female singer belting out the words like her life depended on it. It's just a bad record. The effects-drenched guitars nearly always grate and the chord progressions they fixate upon are garish and obvious.
No meaningful atmosphere or soundscape is achieved in its running time, and Davies does not hook onto a decent melody until 'Warpath', 7 songs in. And even that one only stands out because of the songs around it. The overall seriousness of everything shouldn't necessarily be discouraged, but when everything sounds so weighty and overblown, it seems easier for it to go terribly wrong. And that's what happens too often on this record. Even the opening two tracks, the two that tend to be the best on albums lacking in material, are exhausting and obvious. At its nadir, Violet Cries sounds like a goth-JJ72, and if you can't place that reference in your head, you're very lucky.
What the BBC Introducing panel saw in Esben and the Witch is difficult to find (Fearne Cotton, Paul Gambacinni; I thought better of you!). The association with the award does mean however than the band will feature more prominently on people's radars than they deserve to do at this point. Perhaps at least the attention has afforded them the chance to grow and mature. After all, David Bowie's first album was rubbish. But whether there is enough here to merit a second chance is debatable. A refining of their sound, by which I mean remembering to add some interesting bits amongst all the millions of tracks of portentous guitar and the haunted wailing, might be possible, but here they come so far from reaching anything near a strong melody or a sustained atmosphere that it is very tempting to dismiss the band as one that has already came too far.