Born in New Zealand and now resident in London, Reyne has been championed by the steampunk and darkwave movement for her striking fusion of the folk and industrial genres, marrying Celtic ballad flavours with historical narratives (part Dickens, part Grimms, part Blake) set around the Industrial Revolution, the use of found sound and influences that range from Dead Can Dance to Steeleye Span and Nine Inch Nails. It’s a heady brew and one that bubbles potently through her stunning current release, Children Of A Factory Nation (Chezz Music), around which the set will be mostly based.
A concept album, inspired by the real life drowning of the titular sailor of opening track Johnny & The Sea, a hypnotic slow march folk blues about disillusion and suicide, it follows a Welsh family over three generations from the 1860s through daughter Molly’s move to London and the eventual death of her child, Wynne, in 1961, the changing economic and working conditions impacting on their lives.
Thus, connected by almost flamenco style handclaps, the opener gives way to the no less sparse and gloomy A Woman Scorned telling the widow’s grief while church bells, street vendors’ cries and horses hooves pave the way for Molly (?) busking for change in the slow gathering tribal swell of A Hard Game and (drawing on Pink Floyd’s The Wall) a clanking metal beating rhythm bedrocks Factory Nation’s industrial work song of the daily grind.
It is, though, a far from difficult listen as Reyne demonstrates a commanding mastery of melody and lyric to turn what is frequently dark subject matter into mesmerising and memorable songs like the tribal rhythmed Heavenly Creatures (a title shared with Peter Jackson’s 1994 New Zealand true life thriller), the anthemic Wait (I Run Too Fast) with its skirling bagpipes and the heartbreaking The Arsonist with its cascading, shimmering chorus.
Lazy comparisons to PJ Harvey have been trotted out, but you’re more likely to hear echoes of Marianne Faithful while the drone intro to Hard Times has shades of June Tabor and London, a conflation of trad songs Bedlam Boys and Silver Dagger set to a metronomic beat and backing moan, suggests the dank undergrowth of Sandy Denny’s Matty Groves. However, the most striking comparison to these ears is the criminally unknown Shona Laing, a fellow New Zealander and one time singer with Manfred Mann’s Earth Band.
This is Reyne’s first UK tour and, given the lack of awareness about her music (this is her fourth album), may well mean it’s unlikely to be a crowded house, but for those drawn to discover more it could well prove one of their year’s revelations.
There’s excellent support too from Builth Wells singer-songwriter Jack Harris whose self-released The Flame And The Pelican blends English and American folk influences with a degree in EngLit from Oxford, accomplished acoustic guitar fingerwork and a warm, soulful slightly salty burr.
Easy on the ear with echoes of Jackson C Frank, Dylan, Richard Thompson, acoustic Springsteen, Paul Simon and fellow Welshman Martyn Joseph, Wedding Dentures, the story of a bartered bride with wooden teeth wary that her son’s future bride’s perfect smile hides a darker soul, is likely to be a highlight of the evening. 7.30pm. £5. Hare & Hounds, Kings Heath
Fronted by sometime Massive Attack singer Yolanda Quartey whose been deservedly compared to such greats as Etta James and Mavis Staples, the Bristolian sextet stir together a heady concoction of southern soul, gospel, country blues and jazz with influences drawn from such diverse names as Gillian Welch, the Band, Aretha Franklin, The Impressions and even such early Rod Stewart albums as An Old Raincoat and Gasoline Alley.
