Self released. Availability, L.P. and digital. Time: 40.36.
I wouldn’t normally begin a review like this, but I just love this record. It’s virtually been on repeat since I got it, be it over speakers or various headphones to see how it sounds different on each. And each time I play it I love it more.
Louise McCraw, who now performs as ‘Goodnight Louisa, previously fronted SKJØR (pronounced ‘sure’), known for songs such as ‘Self Control’ and ‘Living Without You’. But since that band’s demise a few years ago she’s released a series of solo singles, and this is her debut album under the ‘Goodnight Louisa’ banner.
SKJØR was largely a guitar driven band and McCraw herself played guitar as well as providing lead vocals. But her solo material leans more towards keyboards. In fact the album is often reminiscent of 80s synth-pop but brought thoroughly up to date and with real, sometimes thunderous, drums.
The instrumental backings range from an almost jolly feel, as with the title track, ‘Human Danger’ (which has something of a Donna Summer vocal feel) to brooding works, like ‘Margaret’ and ‘Deep Dark’. The latter being, for me, the standout track of the record.
McCraw’s vocals, meanwhile, show an impressive range from deep alto to high soprano. But it’s interesting that it’s sometimes the tracks which show the greatest lightness of touch that turn out to be the most angry, perhaps most notably ‘Get your hands off my girlfriend’, a study of the sometimes appalling behaviour of straight people in gay spaces, based on a real incident when a boorish man actually grabbed McCraw by the neck when she was in a gay bar with her girlfriend, because she wouldn’t dance with him.
McCraw has said that the eleven tracks on the album each show a different aspect of “Human danger and how dangerous the world has become when we disregard others.” And so, for example, the title track juxtaposes the isolation of a schoolchild who feels excluded as the last to be picked for a team, with a woman trapped in a dysfunctional relationship.
‘Diana’ is virtually a hymn to the late Princess of Wales and the sexist double standards to which she was all too often held. ‘Judith’, on the other hand describes a menacing female spirit McCraw has felt was haunting her since her childhood.
‘Alchemy in slow motion’ ponders the universal dread of the brevity of life and the realisation that one day we will all be forgotten and just so much soil.
‘Only a matter of time’ describes the fear so many women feel walking alone in the dark, or the opposite danger of being intimidated into self-imposed captivity for the sake of safety. It’s the latest of a series of deeply powerful songs on the same topic by artists on three contents: for example Strange Relations’ ‘Flight Instinct’, which is somehow all the more menacing for being sung in the voice of an angel, and Courtney Barnett’s, more overtly angry ‘Nameless, Faceless’, which uses the same image as McCraw of keys held between the fingers as a weapon and also describes the experience of being trolled on-line.
Only the closer, ‘Bad habits in gay bars’ brings release (despite the ominous title), with the sense of a love that may have started in a bad place and may not have been quite what was looked for, but is lovely nonetheless.
There has been a glorious flowering of work by LGBTQ women and non-binary musicians of late: interestingly both in real life and in fiction, and I have written about it elsewhere in a piece called ‘Lesbians Rock’. But ‘Goodnight Louisa’ has perhaps gone further than most, not just in both in open defiance, but also (and perhaps more importantly) as a simple statement that: ‘this is me and this is normal’. It needs to be said more often.
If I have a criticism, it’s really more of a regret. It’s a shame there’s no CD version, not just because the sound quality is generally noticeably better, but I miss the sleeve notes. I like to know the details of personnel etc, but especially I like a lyric sheet. Some artists include a PDF in the download, and that would have been so nice here.
In fairness, McCraw’s diction is generally quite clear. But the vocals are often set low in the mix and so become just another instrument. From a purely musical point of view, this is an interesting approach, but it can make the words difficult to follow, and in material like this, they matter. There are no lyric videos yet on YouTube, and almost no transcriptions elsewhere on-line, so we’re rather stuck. Her SKJØR vocals, on the other hand, were much clearer.
Don’t get me wrong though, this is one of the best albums I’ve heard all year. I just feel it could be an even richer experience with a lyric sheet.
Hera Says.
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