Kate Rusby, 10

Jonathan Allen, February 20, 2003

I recall first hearing Kate Rusby on an NPR program a year or so back, having just begun to enjoy traditional music in earnest. I was utterly captivated by her voice, and had one particular song – “The Maid of Llanwellyn”- in my head for quite a while. I have been thoroughly enchanted since then. Listening to her latest album, 10, has been an utter delight.

It is rather difficult to describe Kate’s voice: one reviewer described it as “angelic,” which, though cliché, is a fine word. I have heard precious few singers, folk or otherwise, that can compare – her voice has an ethereal, fairy-like nature that soothes even when turned to downright tragic material. Her absolutely lovely voice, its loveliness heightened by a rich Yorkshire accent, weaves through the album as the very dominant sound. For good reason: it is her voice that makes her music, with the instruments, one might say, ornamenting the singing. Which is not to say the instrumentation is at all lacking; rather, it is of excellent quality, and works within the primary context of Kate’s singing to create wonderfully fresh and vibrant folk music. A broad assemblage of musicians lends their talents – on banjo, cittern, accordion, flute, and others.

This album (titled in honor of Kate’s ten years in folk music) features fifteen tracks, almost all of which have been featured on previous projects. Two – “I Wish” and “Over You Now”- are new, but the rest are “old” songs remastered, recorded live, or (the majority) completely redone in new versions. They comprise a good mixture of traditional songs and songs Kate has written, though it is rather hard to tell the difference on some, as she possesses a fine capacity to write very traditional-sounding tunes. They vary in subject matter, though in keeping with tradition, most are tinged with romantic sadness: lost lovers, drowned lovers, false lovers, and the like. The album begins with the traditional song “The Recruited Collier,” a mournful story of a young man’s conscription into the British Army. Its instrumental work is rather sparse, giving a sorrow-laden air and mood. “I Wish,” another mournful traditional song, is the lament of a lady whose lover has left her, and, though slightly livelier than “The Recruited Collier” is almost as tragic. “Over You Now,” one of Kate’s songs, is a reflection on a lost love, which I particularly liked for Andy Seward’s banjo playing, a nice touch. “The Fairest of All Yarrow” and “I Wonder What is Keeping My True Love” follow a similar vein, and are both masterfully done, Kate’s vocals giving a lovely tone to quite sad songs.

“Sweet Bride” is something of an odd song- it relates the tale of a young lady walking by the sea who is approached by a young man upon a white steed. The young man asks for her hand in marriage, so as to take her away to his castle in the sea- a somewhat suspicious proposition if you ask me (to which she consents). The whole affair sounds rather like the infamous kelpies of Scottish lore- prone to carrying pretty maidens off into the sea upon their horses, to an awful demise presumably. Though, perhaps, that interpetation is the wrong one- it is rather hard to gather. At any rate, the song is excellent, and is one of my favorite of the album, a bit of snare drum and banjo carrying out the latter half of the song.

“The Maid of Llanwellyn” is among the songs redone completely, in this case with the addition of brass – an excellent touch. The song, written by an eighteenth century Scottish lady named Joanna Baillie, is the somewhat mournful, somewhat hopeful, story of a poor lady of Wales: “No sheep on the mountains, nor boat on the lake… nor fruit on my tree.” The brass provides a beautifully haunting air – a magnificent reworking. “Wild Goose,” a sea shanty Kate has reworked, follows. Another of my favorites, Kate renders a simply beautiful ballad, imparting a sort of lovely longing and sadness reminiscent of the ocean.

Taking a respite from sad love songs, “Sir Eglamore” is a whimsical traditional song of a knight and his fray with a nasty dragon (dragons having been in the habit of destruction and rampage, this one giving no exception). The dragon proves a tough character for the valiant knight: “The dragon had a plaguey hide/ And could the sharpest steel abide/ No sword will enter him with cuts/ Which vex’d the Knight unto the guts.” Sir Eglamore gains the upper hand and defeats the dragon – for, as most people know, dragons tend to have at least one weak spot somewhere. The song is carried along at a lively pace, which provides a good contrast to the gentle and quiet mood of “Night Visiting Song” which follows.

“Cowsong” brings a cautionary tale of a young man, his mother’s cow, and a deceitful maiden, ending with a warning to all young men to steer broad of temptations from alluring, lovely girls. Whether or not one decides to follow the warning, this is a charming song, lively whistle music and percussion infusing a wonderful freshness and vibrancy. “Drowned Lovers” also implements a very lively bit of whistle-work, though the rather happy tune underlies a downright tragic ballad, a product of Scotland (odd how some of the saddest songs come from the Scots – the poor weather contributing, perhaps?). William, intent on seeing his love Margaret, takes his mother’s curse and rides out into the evening, and across the flood-swollen Clyde Water. Arriving at Margaret’s house, her mother deceptively turns him away, and in despair he plunges into the Clyde Water, where his horse is swept away. Margaret awakes and is told of her lover’s departure. She flies into the night, down to the Clyde, where, finding the body of her love, she casts herself into the roaring Clyde beside him. Happy Scots….

The album ends with a traditional sea shanty, “Bold Riley”: an appropriate ending, a farewell bid by Riley to his sweetheart, the instrumentation provided by a beautifully done accordion solo. (I suppose one must hear it to understand.)

This is a gem of an album. Granted, most of the songs are rather sad – but fortunately Kate’s vocals keep things more than afloat, and wonderfully and effectively balanced between sorrow and beauty. Here’s to ten more years of Kate Rusby’s music – and here’s to ten years already of bonny good music.

Jonathan Allen lives in rural South Mississippi where he is slowly learning to pick the five-string banjo – emphasis on slowly. He used to think folk music was something enjoyed only by people over the age of fifty.