Words by Grey Malkin

Sharron Kraus is one of the most consistently engaging and creative artists in the current psych folk milieu, be it with her lushly orchestrated solo albums such as 2018’s ‘Joy’s Reflection is Sorrow’ and the earlier, baroque ’Friends and Enemies; Lovers and Strangers’, or with her recent work with author Justin Hopper, such as the eerie ‘Chanctonbury Rings’ (also with Belbury Poly) or the immersive and descriptive ‘Swift Wings’. As a part of Rusalnaia alongside Ex Reverie’s Gillian Chadwick, or as Tau Emerald with Fursaxa’s Tara Burke, Kraus has explored both electric and avant-folk territory respectively, and her work with The Iditarod and Espers’ Helena Espvall and Meg Baird is both incomparable and essential. This new release, under the name ‘Birdloom’, is in fact an older recording from the early 2000s, and a collaboration with the late David Muddyman (of Loop Guru) that Kraus undertook shortly after her debut album. Now, after Muddyman’s passing, these songs have been compiled and are available for the first time to hear. Sharing a love of Shirley Collins, Martin Carthy and traditional ballads, the two began recording via the sending and exchanging of CD-Rs, Muddyman’s electronic approach heightening and pulling the texts and songs in new, unexpected and fascinating directions. For example, their working of the folk standard ‘Polly on the Shore’ is perfectly described in correspondence by Muddyman as sounding akin to ‘Swordfishtrombones’-era Tom Waits, whilst the vaulted ‘Sir Patrick Spens’ is ‘like a folk band given to Jamaican Dubmaster who made a record and then played it underwater’. These comparisons capture a sense of the heady experimentalism and forward thinking that is embedded within these tracks, long before folktronica or the merging of organic folk tradition with synthetic elements became more commonplace. And, accordingly, it is an album that enchants, challenges and captivates, with each song still sounding startling and fresh twenty years on.

The album begins with the medieval organ drone of ‘Nellie The Milkmaid’, Kraus’s vocals crystalline clear and dynamic against the backdrop of galloping hand drums and ever-layering synth strings. It is a stark yet deceptively intricately woven interpretation, and holds a genuine power and stately grace. ‘One Night As I Lay On My Bed’ follows a more overtly electronic path, more beat-led, but again with Kraus offering a traditional folk take amongst swelling synths, whilst ‘The Bloody Gardener’ is a suitably ominous and bell laden funereal variant of the age old ballad, with its ghostly violin sitting amidst unsettling electronic glitches and crunches, all proving a perfect foil for such a murderous tale. ‘The Cuckoo’, meanwhile, takes the form of a shimmering, glistening procession, replete with rasping synths which provide foundation and framework to Kraus’s recorder and her bewitching take on this English folk song (made popular by Shirley Collins, as well as Jean Ritchie in its Appalachian variant). 

‘Lovely Joan’ is a revelation – reverberating keyboard stabs weave into strident accordion intervals, alongside sparkling chimes and deep, echoing drumbeats, conjuring an image of a very modern Morris dance; a crossover of electronica, studio technology and age old tradition (this long before recent forays into such areas by the likes of Gazelle Twin). Next, a regal ‘Rosemary Lane’, dripping with graceful melancholy, showcases Kraus’s expertise as a folk song interpreter and performer. She absolutely inhabits the protagonist in these songs, whilst sharing Shirley Collin’s stripped back approach of narrating the song, whereupon each line is beautifully sung and enunciated but never over emoted or overdone. ‘Bold Lamkin’, a variant of ‘Long Lankin’ – a particularly bloodthirsty tale – is a case in point; the dread in the text is tangible (and masterfully drawn out further by Muddyman’s unearthly sounds and mournful strings) but Kraus’s performance is bell-clear and all the more haunting for it. An album highlight amongst many fellow jewels, this rates as one of this listeners favourite versions of what is, perhaps, the darkest of all the traditional Scottish and English ballads. 

To the opening sounds of birdsong and a trickling stream, ‘Brown Robin’ enters on a swirling shruti box and eastern hued woodwind, before being propelled by accordion flourishes and urgent drums. As an instructive or guide version of this ballad could not be sourced, Kraus wrote her own melody, which sounds as comfortably authentic as any of the other more renowned songs upon the album. Lastly, ‘Birdloom’ concludes with the violin led waltz of ‘Come Write Me Down’, a tender and stirring processionary piece that sits upon a bed of subtle but beautifully illustrative electronic organ and percussion, as medieval airs once again emerge into a sunlit and timeless finale. Jon Boden’s fiddle playing and John Spier’s melodeon contribute the organic elements, but Muddyman also taps into something that feels traditional – whilst it may come from a synthesiser or sampler rather than more traditional instrumentation, it accompanies these songs just as graciously and attentively as Dolly Collins‘ organ did for her sister Shirley, or Dave Swarbrick’s fiddle did for Fairport Convention, or that Davy Graham’s guitar may have done (again for Shirley) on ‘Folk Roots, New Routes’. That the latter two were also seen as a modern (and challenging) accompaniment at the time of their recording and release, illustrates the point that folksong evolves, grows and incorporates new elements, and it is its natural inclination to do so.

A project that was clearly a labour of love for both artists and a truly innovative and evocative one, it is hugely welcome that these songs are now out there to hear and enjoy. Ahead of the curve but also appreciative of what had come before, ‘Birdloom’ is an album that can now be loved and appreciated by lovers of folk, psych and electronica alike. A very special release.

‘Birdloom’ is available to download at sharronkraus.bandcamp.com