Cruel Nature Records – 30th June 2023
Christopher Nosnibor
Less than a year on from Their Invisible Hands, and just nine months after Undergrowth, Clara Engel serves up Sanguinaria. The all-too-common ‘returns with simply isn’t appropriate here, since it implies absence, and Engel’s rate of output hasn’t only been consistent, but if anything has accelerated lately, with this being their eighth release since Hatching Under the Stars in April 2020.
The advent of streaming has unquestionably changed the face of the music industry, and it seems to be broadly accepted that the change is most certainly not in the favour of artists, with Spotify CEO suggesting that if artists want to achieve more streams and therefore more royalties, they need to be producing more content, and more regularly, famously telling Music Ally that it’s “not enough” for artists to release music “every three to four years” and that they ought to maintain “continuous engagement with their fans.”
This speaks volumes about his view of music – that it’s not art, but a commodity. And of course, his interest in artists cranking out product on a conveyor-belt is quite clearly in the profit it generates for his company and him personally, not those who produce it. It also shows a complete lack of understanding of the creative process: try writing and recording material while being continuously engaged. Moreover, many creative types aren’t extroverts by nature, and aren’t disposed to sharing endless videos and vlogs and updates on their time in the studio. And do audiences really want or need that anyway? We don’t necessarily need to feel like we know the artist or have a ‘chummy’ or direct connection with them: we just want the music and prefer a bit of mystery and distance.
In the 60s and 70s, it was commonplace for artists to prelease an album every six months, and there’s a very good reason this practise stopped: it simply wasn’t sustainable, and it was invariably the artists who suffered rather than the labels who effectively owned them.
But where I’m going with this is that every artist is different, and the creative process is a personal and individual thing, and sometimes artists experience huge creative flurries, while at others they may experience creative slumps. Clara Engel is clearly experiencing a flurry of late, and the remarkable thing about it is that they’re producing work not only in quantity, but of a remarkable quality.
If in terms of output, more may be more, the stark arrangements of Sanguinaria abundantly evidence that less is very much more in most cases. There is a beautiful achingness which pervades every moment of the album’s downbeat folk contemplations.
The songs on Sanguinaria are sparely-arranged and it’s Engel’s voice which is to the fore, at least in term of the mix. ‘The sky is huge, and the sea is green’, they sing in the reflective refrain of ‘Sing in Our Chains’, and it’s an evocative pastoral feel that nags at you and makes you feel… sad, haunted, makes you look inside yourself. You may not necessarily feel comfortable in doing so, but this is only one of several reasons why it’s worth spending time with Sanguinaria.
Although a solo album and a minimal one at that, Engel – a multi-instrumentalist who plays a fascinating array of instruments here, notably, according to the liner notes, ‘electric cigar box guitar, acoustic guitar, talharpa, gudok, cajón, wooden trunk with soft mallets, tongue drum, melodica’ – is accompanied by a number of contributing musicians who add subtle detail and essential texture and depth. The picked strings and sad-sounding violin forge a mournful dark folk sound on ‘Poisonous Fruit’ and it calls to mind Dark Captain, a band I still miss and feel were criminally underrated. ‘I Died Again’ is so simple, so melancholy, so human, it’s impossible not to be moved by it: Engel’s vocal is rich, but uncomplicated.
‘Extasis Boogie’ introduces percussion for the first time, with hand drums quietly bopping behind an understated guitar, while the lap steel drones on ‘A Silver Thread’ add a weight to the slow sadness that drips from every note.
These are songs which are carefully crafted, considered, and feel so natural and rich; there’s no hint of their having been rushed or being partially-evolved. As such, Sanguinaria feels like an album that connects the feelings behind its creation and the final output.
Engel’s soul is bare on this finely-poised and thoughtful album, and perhaps because of, rather than ins spite of, its minimalism, it’s a gripping work.
AA
Aural Aggravation 