Kathryn Williams - The Quickening

After a decade's worth of exceptionally fine new-folk albums, a Mercury prize nomination and stacks of glowing reviews, Liverpudlian songstress Kathryn Williams continues to fly, inexplicably, under the radar, known and loved mainly by a loyal legion of U.K. fans and smitten critics. New album The Quickening, out in Europe this past February, may set the record straight stateside with a newly announced July 6 street date (One Little Indian) and some excellent critical buzz ("the most accomplished album of her career", trumpets Wears The Trousers). New project follows her wonderful 2008 collaboration with Neil MacColl - Two - and most recent '07 solo album, the brilliant Leave to Remain. "It has a mood," says Williams, "a slightly sinister palette with lyrics that are raw. I see myself in these songs a lot..."

In order to capture the immediacy of a near-live recording, Williams not only assembled a backing band for the recording without sharing the songs beforehand, she also insisted in keeping the songs to a maximum of three takes. Recorded in just four days - Quickening, indeed - the dozen new songs have a wonderfully direct, minimalist feel without sacrificing the natural, casual lushness of the instrumentation or hushed, understated tone of her singing. We're enamored immediately of "Noble Guesses", a song that draws from the John Martyn/Nick Drake school of melodic pop/folk while the more jazz-tinged "Cream of the Crop" brings an interesting change of pace. Highly recommended.

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Kathryn Williams - "Noble Guesses" (from the album The Quickening)

Kathryn Williams - "50 White Lines" (from the album The Quickening)

Photo Credit: Amanda Searle

One Little Indian is pleased to announce that Kathryn Williams has signed
a new deal with the label and will release her eighth album "The
Quickening" on July 6th in North America. The new record was recorded at
Bryn Derwen studio in North Wales. Co-produced with David Wrench, the
album introduces samples into Kathryn’s acoustic folk and contains some of
her sharpest songwriting to date. ‘It has a mood’, she says ‘a slightly
sinister palette with lyrics that are raw. I see myself in the songs a
lot, whereas before I invented characters.’

Plenty has changed in the ten years since Kathryn Williams released her
first record, 1999’s "Dog Leap Stairs," famously recorded for a large two
figure sum (eighty quid). As the Liverpool-bred, Newcastle-based
singer-songwriter releases her eighth studio album, she’s not only busier
than ever, with several wildly varied projects in the pipeline, she seems
at ease with a career that has had several ups and downs.

Brought up in a musical family, after studying art in Newcastle Williams
stayed on, and frustrated by dealings with supposedly interested record
companies that seemed set on changing her, she simply released her own
album, also providing the cover painting.

“Ten years ago there weren’t many people putting out their own records.
Then it was virtually unique, now it’s a given,” she ponders, considering
a decade of changes.

“You’re not paying for warehouse time, which is good,” she says of the
download revolution, practical knowledge learnt running her own label. On
the other hand she compares the fashion for single track downloading to a
newspaper article, equating the complete album to a book.

Even the way we listen to music has changed, as we all bumble around in
headphones that isolate us from the world and each other. “It’s blocking
one thing out to hear another and not getting the benefit of either,” says
Williams.

Those highs have included an unexpected Mercury prize nomination for her
self-released second album "Little Black Numbers" in 2000. She ended up
with a major label deal and a national profile for the first time. She
even took a couple of days off work to attend the awards bash. “I advised
Chris Martin of Coldplay to spend less on recording, as he’d make more
money in the long run,” she laughs.

Williams was literally thrust into the limelight, invited to play a Nick
Drake tribute show at London’s Barbican “I’d only played to fifty people
before that,” she recalls. She added backing vocals to John Martyn’s album
"Glasgow Walker" and played solo at the Albert Hall. She was especially
touched by her reception at 2009’s final Big Chill festival.

"I was waiting to go on at 1.30 in the afternoon and I could see crowds of
people were coming. I got a standing ovation- what the fuck!” she says,
delightedly.

Yet there have been lows to match. For years the agoraphobic Williams
suffered chronic stage fright, until she became pregnant with her first
child in 2005. (She’s expecting another next year)

“The paranoia subsided. I thought ‘I’ve got this thing inside me that’s
more important than the fear of people booing and throwing things at me
and walking out’

It was the fear, not the reality,” she impresses, “I still get nervous,
but nervous is a very different thing.” A leap to a major label for 2002’s
"Old Low Light" proved more successful artistically than commercially.

Worn down by touring and disenchanted with music in general, the result
was the fascinating covers album "Relations," released in 2004, where the
honey-voiced Williams took on songs made famous by the rather throatier
likes of Rod Stewart, Leonard Cohen and Kurt Cobain. The latter’s ‘All
Apologies’ was a highlight, recast with a traditional folk arrangement.
“It’s like singing a Nina Simone song, that complete disdain,” observes
Williams, acutely.

Re-energised, 2005’s "Over Fly Over" and the following year’s "Leave To
Remain" saw Williams back in a comfortable niche. But it was "Two," 2008’s
acclaimed collaboration with Neill MacColl, son of Ewan, that really
raised her profile again. Defying categorisation, it switched between
styles so comfortably it sounded like the work of old hands, rather than a
couple who only met when they shared a bill. A follow-up is planned for
next year.

Before that though comes "The Quickening," her first release for One
Little Indian. Recorded quickly with a crack team of deliberately
underprepared musicians, it features songs to match any in her back
catalogue, such as the loping opener ’50 White Lines’, an elegant road
anthem featuring a countdown in the “low Welsh voice” of recording
engineer (and local legend) David Wrench. Her own favourite is the lovely
‘Wanting and Waiting’ - “It’s the nearest I’ve got to a yearning love
song. It’s not about unrequited love. Though I’m very good at those,” she
deadpans.

It’s the first in a series of ongoing projects, such as a children’s
record created with a friend and fellow mum who once sang in magnificently
named punk band Delicate Vomit. “It’s not twee,” she promises, “We have a
song called Hopscotch that sounds like Squarepusher.” (the mind boggles)
Promised subjects include ‘things to do on a rainy day’ and ‘the sweet on
the floor’.

Then there is the unlikely sounding band called The Ish Inventors, Let
Williams explain. “Our manifesto is to patent our inventions through the
medium of song. It took a really long night just to agree on that. But
most if the songs are about how hard it is to invent something!” Sadly
their concept of a literal ‘thinking cap’ has already appeared in the
pages of New Scientist, devised by some nameless boffin. A record is
promised next year, along with official releases of previously overlooked
material and, for this acclaimed lyricist, the unusual task of setting
folk singer and sculptress Marry Waterson’s words to music.

Williams has always evaded fickle fashion, her virtues more lasting and
deeper. Many have thanked her for the comfort brought by songs like
‘Flicker’ (‘cause there’s not enough time for one man in one life’). “It’s
been played at funerals,” she says soberly, “It’s overwhelming to know
that.”

Her art background has given her a wider perspective, as well as a disdain
for sonic correction programmes that allow you “to ‘re-draw’ a note on a
computer with a ‘pencil’ ” She has compared the procession of writing
music to painting, “I can do the sketches, but the painting is a different
process. You’ll never get the picture you’d imagined. But as long as you
can go with it, then you’ll be happy with it. It’s frustrating, but that’s
how it is.