Carrie Tree - The Canoe (2019)

Recorded in Reykjavik, Brighton-based singer-songwriter Carrie Tree’s third album bears the mark of its producer and arranger, Markus Sieber, better known for his ambient acoustic recordings as Aukai, in being even more minimalist and delicate than her previous work, with esoteric ethnic stringed instrumentation that includes ngoni, jarana, sitar and ronroco alongside a balafon (an African xylophone) as well as the more familiar sounds of harp, flute, glockenspiel, clarinet and cello.

It opens to, whisperingly sung to a spare piano accompaniment complemented by double bass, Sweet Illusion as she talks of “tempting confusion”, “grieving a lover” and sending her longings out on the waters in a small paper boat. That confessional mood continues on Honey Soup, fingerpicked acoustic, upright bass, spooked percussion and multitracked chorus colouring a traditional flavoured number about the body as a vessel, mortality and being carried home to the primordial essence that again speaks of a watery journey and giving thanks for the experiences of life.

Still immersed in images of water, it turns from death to birth on the glacial piano notes and clarinet of the metaphorical title track, the last verse taken from Oak Song by Anna Richardson, before things become more musically uptempo with the swaying strummed melody of Human Kindness, a song about home (“…is where our children grow strong…where peace can come from”) and refugees inspired by the story of a man force to flee his war-torn homeland, Mark Woodward providing harmonies.

It ebbs back into calmer territory (and more images of boats and journeys) with the acoustic bluesy notes of Only Love, etched out on acoustic guitar, accordion and hesitant piano notes with percussion and pizzicato strings filling the sails. Rivers, golden woods, sunlight and leaves imbue Deep As We Dare with a further poetic sensibility on a flute-adorned song about the depth of relationships, the arrangement and Tree’s haunting vocals evoking visions of ethereal icy landscapes.

Double bass again prominent behind plucked acoustic guitar and cello flourishes, Alive is a heady but gently swirling waltz carried by the euphoria of “burning with life” and love, again steeped in nature imagery, Tree slipping into wordless jazzy scatting at one point.

Call To The Wind enters the final stretch on meditative piano notes and shimmering woodwind, a simple conjuration of the breeze to fill the sail “and guide our way home again safely”, leading into the album’s longest track, the six-minute plus Red Clay Woman, a brooding drone-like backing and puttering dampened percussion accentuating an almost conspiratorially sung lyric about, in the image of fragment of red clay pottery and a vision of an old woman, ancestral history and not disturbing sacred lands.

It ends in the warm jazzy blues glow of the breathily delivered farewell Summertime that combines image of separated lovers and the thaw of winter into summer that’s sees frozen rivers flow once again, the latter embodying the idea of not constraining the natural rhythms of nature or the heart.

A nomadic spirit, Carrie Tree has spoken about finding time for journeys and the importance of “turning off the computer, returning to simplicity and re-centring .” Grab a paddle, get in the boat and sail with her.