A Different Aspect #97

Back in February, Doris Brendel reached out to share news of her latest collaboration with Lee Dunham — a blues album, marking something of a stylistic detour for them. Her announcement was swiftly followed by a cheeky “oh no” and a reminder: “we’re prog!” Of course, fans familiar with Doris and Lee’s work know the duo has always walked a slightly rockier path, often coloured by bluesy undertones. So really, this isn’t quite the left-turn it might first appear.

Cue Big Blue Sky. First listen? Wow. Thirteen polished tracks showcasing Doris’ unmistakable vocals — melodic, soulful, and at times deliciously raunchy — matched by Lee’s commanding guitar work and deft arrangements. While the album is penned entirely by Doris and/or Lee, it plays like a blues-rock greatest hits compilation spanning five decades. There’s the grit of early ’70s rock — Janis Joplin may be too easy a comparison, but not misplaced — the swagger of ’80s hair metal, touches of country rock, and the electric pulse of contemporary blues.

Influences pop up like old friends: Allannah Myles is strong in Satin Row; elsewhere, echoes of Sam Brown, Beth Hart, and KT Tunstall chime through. On the guitar front, Gary Moore looms large, alongside shades of SRV and Joe Bonamassa.

True to form, the duo still serve their music with a wink — take Slow Wifi Weekend for instance. And yes, vocalist Sam ‘Blue’ is real… even if the album’s cast of ‘Sams’ in various hues borders on comedic excess 🙂 Still, the humour never overshadows the craft. The music is sincere, stylish, and rich in tone.

Special mention to Lee Dunham’s guitar work: tasteful, bluesy, and always on point — a presence felt, but never overbearing.

It’s easy to envision Doris, Lee, and their band lighting up a colossal festival stage, their sound echoing across a sea of tens of thousands. Big Blue Sky truly delivers that kind of magnetic energy.

A few months ago, I received an email from St George’s in Hartlepool announcing an upcoming concert featuring Jocelyn Pettit & Ellen Gira with Miguel Girão. Intrigued, I headed over to Bandcamp to sample their enchanting debut album All It Brings and was instantly drawn in. It was clear I needed to make every effort to attend, and the concert more than justified that instinct. I summed it up in my review with: “Great music delivered with warmth, passion and smiles 🙂 – if you get a chance to catch one of their shows, I wholeheartedly recommend you do.”

At the close of the evening, I purchased a copy of their then, forthcoming sophomore release, Here To Stay. Featuring Jocelyn on violin and vocals, Ellen on cello and vocals, embellished with guest appearances by guitarist Everest Witman and Oisín Hannigan on bodhrán, the album has since become a fond memento from a very special night – enjoying frequent spins and reliably lifting the mood. Thematically, Here To Stay reflects the duo’s journey since first meeting in Scotland, before each returned to their native homes. That migratory path finds a poetic parallel in the album art, which portrays the flight of the Common Loon (or Great Northern Diver).

Musically, the album draws rich inspiration from Scottish and Irish Celtic traditions, but also from their roots in British Columbia and Maryland. The interplay between violin and cello is mesmerizing – dancing vividly through jigs and reels, yet equally stirring in its more contemplative moments. Their vocal harmonies are just as compelling: whether it’s the bright, infectious title track with its touch of pop appeal, the delicately braided vocals of Passport to Mettabee, or the endearing intimacy of Going Home, each arrangement feels genuinely attuned to the heart of the song.

Both the concert and the album open with the wonderful Bellechase, a piece whose initial charm reminded me of the tonal ‘flavours’ of Mads Tolling and Joseph Hebert’s work on the MVI albums. Yet Jocelyn and Ellen cultivate a distinct sonic personality – graceful, textured, and rhythmically nuanced with elegant fiddle/cello dialogue and stunning harmonies throughout. A superb album, and a glorious evening beautifully preserved in sound.

I must admit that I have long since passed through the stage where I have the time and inclination to sit with headphones on as I listen to every vocal nuance of an album, so I have always been sceptical about the need for remastered albums. The sound might be a little crisper but, if we are being honest, does anyone really notice that? It all seems like someone trying to take my cash for ancient rigging. And, after all, a remastered version of Motörhead’s No Remorse CD might be desired by a completist fan but Lemmy’s snarling vocal talents can’t be made perfect, no matter how good the technology is.

However, as I have seen This Winter Machine several times now and have all the other albums this re-issue of the long unavailable CD is openly welcomed and enjoyed.

In case you are old, like me, and remember the 1956 film of the same name, I just want to say that the title is where any similarities end; although I have always thought that tale of WWII ingenuity and deception would have made a great concept album.

The title track is over 16 minutes and starts off with an atmospheric introduction that leads the listener on a journey of isolation, angst and loneliness that made me think of W H Auden’s poem, The Unknown Citizen. The five part The Man Who Never Was at fractionally over sixteen minutes is a song that could drown someone in desperation, but the path is worth taking.

Next up was The Wheel. Another song full of deep and meaningful lyrics that made me nod, plaintively, with recognition of the message. I can’t really put my finger on it but it made me think of Rush. Not just empty hyperbole, it really is that good. Lullaby is an instrumental that allowed the rest of the band to show how talented they were and, despite it being the shortest track on the album I was left wanting more.

Following that is After Tomorrow Comes, and continues the album’s relentless theme with words of loss and the trying to analyse what went wrong with a relationship which is reinforced with the final track, Fractured.

This review could portray the album as a wrist slashing exercise that makes The Smiths sound cheerful, but I found it quite cathartic and satisfying. I am sure that many of us have been through a similar emotional journey or, in my case, travelled it several times, and it was refreshing to know that I wasn’t the only one to experience loss and the bewilderment that the emptiness leaves behind. Like all the other TWM albums I will definitely be listening to it multiple times.

Úna Quinn’s creative partnership with Neil Campbell continues its graceful evolution, with early writing for Little Anthem dating back to around the release of her debut album Inside Out in 2019. Once again, Neil’s exquisite guitar work serves as the perfect foil for Úna’s delicate, captivating vocals. A rich palette of instrumentation — augmented by a small ensemble of guest musicians and vocalists — deepens the sonic tapestry, delivering a vibrant and engaging listening experience.

Though now based in Liverpool, Úna hails from Armagh, Northern Ireland — her heritage being subtly woven into her music. A style that blends folk sensibilities with acoustic pop and flourishes of electronica, creating a sound both contemporary and grounded. As with Inside Out, a profound sense of empathy underpins the album, drawn from her childhood and shaped by years of work in social care, special education, and grassroots initiatives. Úna says of Little Anthem: “The album is a cry for humanity”.

The album opens with Secret Getaway, where Neil’s layered guitar textures lend drive and grace, perfectly complementing Úna’s airy vocal delivery. That momentum continues with Those Roads, a commissioned piece marking the 175th anniversary of the Irish Great Hunger. Úna’s voice takes on a poignant, childlike quality here — a tone she revisits to striking effect in Blue Skies, which gently incorporates the 18th-century nursery rhyme Johnny’s So Long at the Fair.

Field recordings and spoken-word passages once again enrich the lyrical storytelling. An Coolin, with its shoreline ambience and Paraic O’Brien’s mournful violin, evokes traditional Irish themes with delicate power. The ocean returns in Shamrock, a testament to Úna and Neil’s gift for layering instrumentation that offers both intricacy and spaciousness. The album closes with Storm, a simple yet stirring finale. Neil’s softly picked guitar cradles Úna’s fragile vocals as the song gently ebbs into the sound of waves breaking — a quiet, contemplative farewell.

In a landscape flooded with daily music releases, it’s all too easy to lose track of those rare discoveries that once caught your ear. Back in 2021, I came across the Canadian ensemble Musk Ox, and was so taken by their sound that I reviewed Inheritance, describing it as “a wonderfully enigmatic, totally captivating album.” That initial encounter sparked a dig into the works of the band’s individual members, unearthing even more compelling music along the way. Nathanaël Larochette’s Old Growth (2023) was a sublime listen, and Raphael Weinroth-Browne’s Worlds Within Live (2021) proved to be, quite simply, “an absolute must.”

Fast forward to the present, and Raphael’s latest EP continues that journey. Speaking of the new release, he notes: “These autumnal offerings were meant as a homage to the season and a celebration of the melancholic, sorrowful sounds that are so intrinsic to the cello’s voice.” As the title suggests, the EP comprises three cover versions — one from A Perfect Circle and two from Katatonia.

Taking Katatonia’s Idle Blood as a focal point, Raphael builds tension through intricately layered cello and string arrangements, each evolving to reflect the song’s deep-seated despair. He not only preserves the haunting beauty of the original melody but also amplifies its emotional depth, allowing the cello to drive the composition with a sense of urgent melancholy.

Bloody Marvellous!

With a new album on the horizon, Autumnal Covers offers a timely reminder of the creative muse of Raphael Weinroth-Browne.