Narc. Magazine Online
Reliably informed
Lee Fisher enjoys a night of understated fragility and masterful storytelling
Image: Jana Horn by Lee Fisher
Tonight’s opener Eddie Doyle was new to me but I was really impressed. Her set kicked off with a song built on a bed of subtle electronics, but there was an issue and she continued mostly gadget-free, just her and her guitar and her remarkable voice. From low yearning moans to something higher and more intense, her voice swoops and soars in a style that actually reminded me of Troy-era Sinead O’Connor. She’s only been playing out for about a year but there’s a lot of promise.
The remarkable thing about Nev Clay is that no matter how often you see him, there are always songs you haven’t heard before, from deep in his decades-long songbook or works in progress. Tonight’s brief but lovely set, just five songs in 30 minutes (practically a Napalm Death workrate by Nev’s standards) managed to include such gems as Flags and Pebble Of White Quartz and finished with a new song, called Rescue You for now, which might become one of his loveliest. Based in part on his mental health nurse background and dealing with people in peril, it’s a beautiful thing and something about it made me feel it would lend itself to a slowcore cover, an ideal song for The Last Path for example.
I’d been led to believe Jana Horn was something out of the ordinary, although I’d only heard a little, so just how great this show was came as a glorious revelation. Everything about it felt special. Horn has a delicate, almost fragile voice, sometimes almost sounding like something overheard, something absent-minded. Comparisons to everyone from Cassandra Jenkins to Suzanne Vega come to mind, especially on the occasionally almost spoken numbers. Her songs appear simple, sketched, spontaneous but you just know there’s a lot of craft going on. Horn herself was charming and shy and oddball-funny, sharing tales of shopping lists and grappling with the Geordie dialect. Her band were incredible – like Horn, drummer Adam Jones and bassist Jade Guterman are Texan natives based in NYC and each of them has played with some great artists – Bill Callahan, Shadow Ring, More Eaze. They seem to have an almost telepathic connection, playing with a jazzy lightness of touch, sparse even, although Guterman’s unusual style is prominent on a couple of tunes. This was a lesson in doing a lot with seemingly very little, and making it absolutely gorgeous.
