Words by Grey Malkin

Cornwall based singer and multi-instrumentalist Angeline Morrison has become (deservedly) a much wider known player on the psych folk landscape in these last few years This is in part down to 2022’s critically acclaimed ‘The Sorrow Songs; Folk Songs of Black British Experience’, a breathtaking collection that found Morrison performing on BBC2’s ‘Later With Jools Holland’, as well as on the acoustic stage at Glastonbury, and was much praised within the pages of the likes of Mojo and Uncut. Prior to this, Morrison was already prolific, recording as a part of the brilliantly named Rowan: Morrison (think of ‘The Wicker Man’) with Stephen Stannard from The Rowan Amber Mill, alongside The Lilac Time’s Nick Duffy as We Are Muffy, and as a duo with fellow Cornish folk singer Emily Jones. Morrison’s other solo work, the hauntingly beautiful ‘The Brown Girl and Other Folk Songs’ was voted The Guardian’s Folk Album of The Month, and her status and standing is further cemented with the masterful new release, ‘Ophelia’. Described as a collection of songs that are, alternatively, ‘an imprint of a feeling, a fugitive thought, a restless story, a spirit’, the music herein is composed of assorted found sounds, knives, a handmade music box and garden sounds, amongst other, more conventional instrumentation and backing. Morrison is much more than a traditional folk singer (though she ably fulfils this role); there is a breadth of creativity, of pushing the boundaries and experimentation that takes ‘Ophelia’ beyond that of any standard traditional album. Instead, there is an eerie, spectral quality to this portmanteau of songs, recorded and performed over the last three years entirely by Morrison herself, an unpredictability and willingness to go wherever the song leads, that is both bewitching and deeply rewarding.

The album begins with ‘Clouds Never Move’, and with the gentle swirl of birdsong, the resonant plucked percussive notes of a kalimba, and Morrison’s hypnotic vocals, harmonising with herself. At once soothing, as well as unusual and otherworldly, Morrison is clearly developing her own entirely unique and beguiling landscape. Reminiscent in its creativity of fellow artists Alula Down/the Weirdshire collective and their own leftfield take on folk music, this is a striking and immersive opener, almost siren-like, pulling you into Angeline’s self-created universe with a tender hand. Inspired by a childhood memory of having to silence herself and deny her own experience, the song was written in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, with Morrison noting ‘it is about the importance of always speaking our truth’. The album’s title track follows, a sparse folk hymnal that rests almost entirely upon Morrison’s carefully layered and choral vocals, with zither notes and acoustic guitar occasionally floating into view like ghosts. Doomed yet filled with a warm, melancholic beauty, this is a song that will haunt both your sleep and your waking hours. Next, the funereal and organ-led ‘He Comes In The Night’ has the shadowed touch of a torch song, albeit one sung by the dead (this is a ghost story for the ears). Curiously, although the intricate vocal arrangements and hushed, sympathetic accompaniment are finely tuned, the mood evoked reminds one of Tom Waits, and his off kilter, disquieting atmospheres. Both artists are similar in that they evoke another twilight world, both real and imagined, one that exists outwith our own. It is fitting that knives were used as part of the instrumentation, this unconventional approach adding to the spooked ambience. ‘The Fat Lady Sings’ follows, with Morrison accompanying herself on dulcimer, a retort to Frances Cornford’s 1919 poem of the same name that she recalls from a volume of children’s poetry; however, his was an unkind and reductive comment on the female protagonist, whereas Morrison gives the lady in question both her voice and backstory, one of finery, exquisite taste and an affinity with nature. A stately, processionary song, there is grace and elegance in Morrison’s delivery and playing, refined and perfectly poised. 

Next, ‘Hours of Sunlight’ references Francoise Sagan’s novel, and is an observation on spoken communication (and its limitations). A sublime melancholy shimmers throughout, Morrison’s vocals both emotive and enthralling. ‘Bright Blessings’, performed by Morrison acapella, with the exception of an accompanying shruti box, is ‘a blessing in song form’ and sounds like an centuries’ old ballad in its structure and melody; indeed, much of the album has a timeless quality that, should it suddenly be revealed that this was recorded in the 60s or 70s, it would seem apt. ‘Circular Waltz’ follows, a meditation on time and its inconsistencies, which finds Morrison’s voice backed by guitar, double bass and her handmade music box. A delicate and curious piece, there is an edge and underlying tension that adds an unearthly grandeur to its skeletal framework. By turn ‘The Ghost Of A Song’ takes a traditional ballad theme, that of a lost love who returns from the supernatural realm, and is an intimate and embracing folk piece that, as befits the title, plays on in the memory long after the song itself has finished. 

‘A Quiver In The Heart’ is a heartbroken paean to an ended love, with Morrison stating it was influenced by her love of bands such as The Crystals and The Ronettes, and this can be felt and heard in the gorgeous 60’s chorus and harmonies, all performed entirely by Morrison herself. ‘I Close My Arms To You’, in contrast, rejects an unwanted embrace, a relationship that now sits poisonous and unwelcome. Harp notes punctuate this solemn yet rhythmic requiem, one that adds yet more variety to this inspired collection of songs. The album finishes with the hushed ‘Almost, But Not Quite (The Astrologer’s Song)’, that tells of an astrologer creating a chart for someone that they have deeper and more intense feelings for, and the challenges therein. A true treasure of a song, there is an air of magic, of a fairytale, in the droplets of autoharp and in Morrison’s storytelling. 

‘Ophelia’ then, is a beautifully and intricately crafted collection, filled with tales, ballads, fables and memories that, generously shared, become a part of our world too. These songs get under the skin, resonate and haunt like welcome ghosts. The spare and carefully chosen backing instrumentation reveals new details and adornments on each listen, and Morrison’s voice carries the album and listener from story to story, room to room, landscape to landscape like a guide. A very special release indeed; do not miss out.

‘Ophelia’ is available for the Autumn Equinox (September 20^th) on download, transparent blue vinyl and pink CD from www.angelinemorrison.bandcamp.com