Faeland - When I Close My Eyes (2021)

Outside these pages Faeland could seem pretty much a well-kept secret, something I can’t quite get my head around, such is the polish and craft behind their output. When I Close My Eyes, their second full-length outing, builds on the promise of 2018’s ‘All My Swim’, a FRUK album of that year, and is chock full of joy, with melodic hooks snaking out in abundance. Coupled with the purity of Rebecca Nelson’s vocal, bedded within the sophisticated arrangements and backing of Jacob Morrison, the duo are augmented here by additional assorted musicians, who frame the songs sensitively and with aplomb. The presence of Martin Solomon across all the tracks, and who often appears with the duo live, bears particular mention, applying sundry harp, violin and accordion.

Based in the West Country, both the name of the duo and the nature of the songs have me thinking they draw influence from the celtic diaspora, not that these songs are in any way fiddle dee dee. Maybe it is in the water, heightened by the recording being largely done at Monmouth’s famed Rockfield Studios. Broadly grounded in acoustic guitar and voice, if with textures hued from country, folk, jazz and, yes, even pop, these are modern songs, of current experience and relevance, but still with the otherworldly ambience that they set out to apply thereto. As Nelson says herself: “fae means ‘other’ and I see music as the porthole to the other. I love how music can be a passage to this “otherness” that no-one can quite put their finger on”

The record starts with ‘Easier’, previewed back in November, and it ideally sets the table for what’s in store. Fluid and flowing picked guitar heralds the entry of Nelson’s tones, a piercing icicle of beauty, with brushed drums, bass and keyboards melding in seamlessly, the chorus an earworm that will have you singing this from the start, I guarantee. This leads straight into ‘Was’, the second single, with a starting, and startling, dynamic that immediately alerts, with layers of multi-tracked vocals and backing vocals calling to mind some vintage Buckingham Nicks era Fleetwood Mac, if they had ever also included banjo and a searing folk-jazz violin solo. Stevie Nicks might also like the lyrical references to owls and squirrels. It is utterly gorgeous.

‘Little Lights’, intentionally or not, could be a covid song, the little lights mentioned seeming of hospital monitors. Nonetheless, it feels like a song of hope and is full of goosebumps between Nelson’s soaring voice and the trilling charango of Morrison, the understated stand up bass providing a solid foundation before the drums kick in, these here courtesy Rowan Sterk, one of several featured drummers. ‘End of the Day’ contrasts as a downbeat reflective piece, buoyed by the guitar and muted accordion. As with most of the songs, the gradual build, as other instruments join, is cleverly disguised, with no abrupt segues, the cello and other strings of the middle eight never obtrusive, gilding the lily.

A switch of style to the piano-led ‘Long Lost’ stretches Nelson to her upper limits, she carrying this off, if just, in a sumptuous ballad that acts as an early mid-project pause for thought.

‘Ocean Song’ and ‘Used To’ return to the buoyancy of the album, the double bass playing of John Giblin a delight in the former, with a slight country feel to the latter expanding the overall palette, with Morrison adding delicate twang.

‘What Will I Be’ now adds a proto gospel protest timbre, Nelson near unaccompanied over initially rudimentary backing, the whole reminiscent of Seeger’s ‘Which Side Are You On’, the title suggesting this to be deliberate, the contrast again refreshing and provoking.

More majestic Giblin bass resonates within the anthemic ‘Willow’, which has an extended instrumental coda, characterised by Morrison’s tinkling charango almost dancing with Giblin, held in check by drummer Rob Pemberton. Which, in turn, leads to the only song not written, or part-written by the duo. Rebecca Cant, a singer on the same Bristol scene, contributes ‘Made To Love You’, a sombre piano-led lament that lingers long, abetted by the spectral violin of Solomon.

Slowing toward the end, ‘Tin Pan Pocket’ is a gentle sway, perhaps a reference to accumulating songs that might never see the light. Perhaps not, but hugely beguiling, with yet more terrific bass and a confident guitar counter melody. John Giblin, I feel I should add, has a stellar cv, working alongside everyone from Kate Bush to Joan Armatrading, as well as the odd Beatle. His playing includes Phil Collins’ ‘In the Air Tonight’ and being one of the few bassists to get the nod from John Martyn after Danny Thompson.

The final song, ‘To the Ones I Know and Love’, whilst fine in its own way, seems separate from the rest of the record, and somehow thus altering the mood. But given the overall excellence, it takes little away from the whole. I certainly hope this second disc brings them greater recognition. They deserve it.