Sometimes something beautiful can come from something terrible. Human beings are remarkably resilient creatures, and we’re adept at turning misfortune into something useful. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with the personal cost, though.
For songwriter Gerald McCrudden, the death of his father led to an undeniably powerful collection of songs, loosely grouped together with shared feelings of loss, reflection, and melancholy. The passing of a parent is something that can be incredibly difficult to process, and when it expresses itself through music, there’s always the danger of it being too personal and too oppressive, like being stuck at a funeral for someone else’s relative, where you can’t leave, and you don’t know any of the mourners.
But in the hands of Lambing Season, this grief, this sorrow becomes something vibrant and defiantly alive. Quickening of the Year begins with haunted piano chords, quickly escalating into a pulsing wall of melody and rhythm. And it ends in wintry, windswept atmosphere, notes barely teased out of a cello, as it comes to a halt in stillness and silence. In between, it’s quite a journey.
The real gift of Lambing Season is their ability to cram an awful lot into a small space. Aside from the poignant lyrics of McCrudden, the band somehow consistently utilise a lot of varied instrumentation within the confines of a song, giving everything its own space. This isn’t just a mushed-up barrage of sound; if Lambing Season are using a guitar, or a trumpet, or a clarinet, they want you to hear it. To say that this record is immaculately produced is something of an understatement.
With such finely arranged music, the songs themselves rarely inhabit one mood or tone. Subtle shifts happen all the time, and while McCrudden’s voice has an undeniably melancholic tone to it, these songs are anything but dreary. ‘Holywood & Girls’ is tender and playful, ‘The Days of the Rocking Horse Wars’ is exuberant, and ‘Wicked Man’ swings with a cocksure arrogance. Every note is where it is meant to be, and every sound is on purpose.
The obvious touchstones are Arcade Fire and The National, but Laming Season carve out a space of their own, a delicate, intricately assembled sound, gossamer light and elegant. Indeed, at times, this becomes the album’s greatest failing, as these immaculate constructions become so beautiful that you’re scared to touch them, something to be admired, rather than experienced. Lambing Season have always been a powerful live band, but this doesn’t particularly translate on the album, where mood, atmosphere, and delicacy are favoured over power and impact. There are times when some of that rawness would act as the perfect salve for the emotions on display, a visceral counterpoint to the intellectual ruminations that form the backbone of the songs. If they could just cut lose once or twice, there’s a real sense that these songs would be even more effective.
However, that’s a small complaint to have, and one gets the impression that these songs will take on a new lifespan on the stage, in front of an audience. And, immaculately performed or not, Quickening of the Year is an incredibly assured statement from a band at the peak of their abilities. This must have been painful to make, but – By God! – for the listener, it’s worth it.
