aaamusic | On 31, Oct 2010

The acoustic zeitgeist has, for some reason, lent itself to a massive rise in the number of solo female singer-songwriters recording lo-fi collections of songs with an “intimate” quality. Gwyneth Herbert has done exactly that in ‘Clangers And Mash’. This of course leads to occasional weak moments in execution and musical style, but there is something undeniably charming in its atmosphere.

Opener ‘Midnight Oil’ is a delicate and completely honest vocal track, a low-key and totally naked song featuring nothing more than Gwyneth Herbert’s sweet and melodic voice whispering a slow, sad song in an acoustic setting that gives the air of a woman singing in a room too big for her, despite a valiant head-held-high attitude and a powerful voice.

The follow-up track, ‘My Meìine And Me’ is a much more energetic yet still undeniably fragile track, its powerful vocals underlaid by mournful lyrics. The lilting acoustic riff treads water in the depths of clanging and booming percussive beats, and the overall effect is one of an understated yet successful stand against the world via song.

In contrast, the ‘Perfect Fit’ series of tracks feels like a dream as opposed to a part of the album. Gently juddering electronics push forwards the singing and the string section in the first one, as it feels like some sepia-toned reminiscence of an old Hollywood musical absorbed into the modern dance scene. The second version is Gwyneths’s feathered voice sweetly crooned over tender ukulele, the rhythm and mood buoyed by handclaps. The third version is once again Gwyneth Herbert’s singing at the forefront, although quietly keeping mood and melody is a small and quirky reworking of a jazz band with distant tinny string and horn sections. It’s completely disarming as a track but reaches cloying on repeated listens.

‘Petite Cacahuete’ is a charming, stripped-back French song that feels like a nursery rhyme in its soothing tones and naively innocent feel. Tuneful and completely sweet female vocals are backed by lilting flute, playful handclaps, warm acoustic bass and a plucked, muted ukulele.

However it has to be said, this is not a coherent album. Tracks like ‘My Narrow Man’ feel a bit garbled. The electro/dubstep touches such as looped samples and autotuned vocals jar with the tender piano playing, and simply feel wrong in such an organic setting. Similarly, ‘So Worn Out’ feels jarringly energetic in execution, the electro-drenched opening cascading down like Muse through a transistor radio, and the constant piano chords gets overbearing. Finally, the autotune and effects placed on the delicately beautiful and brave vocals leaves the listener with an artistic aftertaste that would be comparable to seeing a day-glo Mona Lisa and the looped outro drags. In comparison, the acoustic version of the track bares a tender-hearted beauty that was drowned out in the dance version. This is the sonic equivalent of a butterfly on a cold sunny day, haunting and yet softly captivating, even if the wailing theremin becomes overkill at points.

I would say that there are moments of real charm here, although the overall effect is either overwhelmed by electronics taking over the soft natural beauty, or the sweet overtones of Gwyneth Herbert’s work becoming too cloying. I would love to love this album, and I feel that if she would simply have confidence in her own natural ability to sing, she could be sensational. As it is, ‘Clangers And Mash’ feels sadly queasy and uneven.

Author: Katie H Halinski