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It appeared in their December issue. Hudson's article may not be accurate in every detail, but it's one of the most heartfelt brief statements about Kate to have appeared in a mainstream British publication to date. I felt it would be a nice way to begin this volume. Edited by Andrew Marvick. We've been holding our breath for a long time. Three years of playing the old songs and wondering "whatever next?
Would it leave more admirers by the wayside, shaking their heads? The real fans will happily go along for the ride, even if she isn't going the pretty way. For Kate journeys into new and exciting territories. She is an original in a music world dominated by cover versions, regressive movements and identikit superstars.
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The direct opposite of the archetypal rock star: compulsively introvert in a world of screaming extraverts, middle-class and deeply English amid England's all-pervasive working class American ethos, boldly feminine in rock's macho climate. Her melodic genius and articulate lyrics make the rest seem moronically simplistic. Instead, she brews a heady mixture of musique concrete, multi-tracked chorus and acoustic instruments from the dijeridu to the balalaika; all skillfully appropriated to produce precisely calculated effects.
Her lyrics are also multi-diverse. After a thousand songs on the theme of boy-meets-girl-boy-loses-girl or Thatcher's Britain, exposure to her music comes as an imaginative release as we go giddily flying into the limitless possibilities of the poetic viewpoint.
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Here is talk of whales, of Peter Pan, kites, Houdini, mysticism Acquaintances have observed, "She lives in a world of her own. Using imagery nostalgically familiar to fellow Englanders, her subjects come tripping from library shelves, television and cinema screens and musty books of fairy tales, the stuff that dreams are made of. She spins tunes that haunt, twist and turn the mind, triggering long forgotten moods.
Listening intently to her albums is an experience akin to having a lucid and feverish dream. Jungian symbols of youth, innocence, spiritual escape and the dark, feminine realm abound. Ghosts haunt the black vinyl grooves. Uncanny intimations disturb the sensitive. The spirit of Peter Pan hovers over her work, sometimes overtly, as in In Search of Peter Pan, but also covertly, as a yearning for the human closeness and heightened awareness of youth.
The plangeant beauty of Irish and English folksong lies at the heart of the music, working its ancient magic. Magic, too, is the rich Celtic blood that Kate shares with so many poets and spell-weavers. But it's not all brooding intensity.
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There are jokes, too, some Ealingesque: movie-obsessed bank robbers break into The Dreaming , there's a Brechtian romp through Arsenic and Old Lace country in Coffee Homeground and those "Darling, you were wonderful! Teasing seduction has produced some adorable songs, a poet's sensuality perfuming the lyrics.
Images of silk and lace, flickering candlelight, white rosebushes in a storm, dusty ivy, plaiting hair by the fire, ravish the mind's eye. But don't imagine that her music is "wet. The use of Eastern borrowings in odd harmonies and interlocking, unfamiliar rhythms opens up and strengthens the Romanticism.
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The lyrics, too, have Oriental influences, in the shape of Gurdjieff--a Sufic guru whose strange terminology and mystic psychology are a recurring motif. While it must baffle most listeners, it does lend a suitably mysterious distancing to her deeply personal songs, sharpening an image that threatens to become too sweet. It's a mischievous paradox that, while rock at its ultra-macho best is exhilarating and energizing, yet just at the moment when it is most strident and loud it leaves you needing something more.