Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10
Nowhere in England perhaps encompasses the feeling of open beauty, of revealed fables and secret language as that of the West Country. Its accent, the sometimes-insular belief and its welcoming arms can keep the confidential close to its heart whilst allowing the rest of England to view its soul with astonishment and grudging respect.
There is nothing vague or ill-defined about the life and heartbeat of the West Country, its music, its art, its belief, and the measured darkness, is blunt in its delivery, even with the voice that carries kindness and trustworthy approach, and it is because of the darkling, the ambiguous that becomes more entrenched the further you investigate its inner shores.
It is that bluntness but kindly approach that releases wave after wave of intrigue, and as tracks such as Fallen, Catherine Street, Old Smokey’s Lullaby, Hydra, and A Dark And Breathing Space expose the drama and blatant phrasing of imagination within Sue Harding’s latest release Darkling.
The 12 self-written tracks combine Sue Harding’s sense of the dramatic and technical inspiration, and alongside Josh Clark who supplies intense percussion, keyboards, guitar, as well as acting as recorder, and the scintillating Beth Porter on cello, the brutality of the Darkling is released, the human being on the edge of forever, the sea an escape and a harsh master, and that rugged coast line, from Jurassic past to old haunts of smugglers and ship wrecks, from mythical beasts, to the heart of England’s soul, the Darkling rises with style, with power, with endurance.
Taking inspiration from the like of the poet Tennyson, of flowing conversations, the desire within nature’s abundant glory and the creatures that search for the light as darkness envelops them, and the height of feminine power released by the strength of the Moon, Sue Harding’s insight as she pens charm and unadulterated mindful passions is to be congratulated, is to be explored in full as you would in day time as you would in night, the coast and inner dens of the West Country’s heart.
That secret language, that groove that touches even the most cynical of visitors as they allow the breath to fall from their otherwise tight-lipped face, is the essence of the Darkling, a tongue that weaves spells as the sea takes its confidences to the bottom of its cold heart, is a beauty unfolded and allowed to reign supreme.
A class album by a sensational performer, her secrets are safe with all.
Ian D Hall