Light Year
Artist: Jenny Gillespie
Label:  Independent
Time: 8 Tracks / 40 mins
 
I don’t envy any female singer-songwriter trying to break through in such a saturated market, but I would give Gillespie more chance than most, as she has already created a sound of her own – and one that works.  The blurb for this unhurried disc likens her to Kate Bush. I understand the sentiment, but Gillespie is generally warmer. I hear bits of Joni Mitchell when she goes really high, especially in “Shells” and the more strident tones of “Vanishing Point”. More often, though, she shows strains of Aimee Mann.
 
This disc slows as it goes. “Vanishing Point” all happens around its short piano riff, and following it, the memorable “Nightmares and Appointments” takes a similar line. But for the more subtle “Hydra,” Gillespie ditches self-harmonies and sings straight, letting her full-bodied voice do its magic. It gets even better on the disc’s peak, the softer, moodier trio of “Littleblood”, “Slow Clouds Beak” and “New Maze.” A crisper mix of percussion and guitars behind her warm voice earn comparisons with early Suzanne Vega and River City People, while swirling, echoing guitar and pedal steel licks build atmosphere.
 
Adding Wurlitzer and glockenspiel to the mix, “Hummingbirds” livens things up a bit and takes on a touch of the Sufjan sound from Alan Scalpone’s pervasive trumpet, before the speed drops to close the disc with the sparse acoustic guitar and vocals of “Shells”.
 
There is a lovely, drifting dreaminess about this collection, but it doesn’t quite slow down enough, or leave enough space to be described as ‘delicate’. “Nightmares ..” shows her deft touch with arranging the sounds, as the riff is shared between alternating piano bass notes and guitar treble strings, with some interweaving acoustic guitar and pastel-blurring from a sinewy pedal steel. I normally love extra textures, such as the accordion on “Littleblood” and the cello that is dotted about, but at the same time, Gillespie’s voice is warm and strong enough to take far more space than it is given. It could slow down further, rely more on sustained top-end shimmery guitar, and still gain.
 
I would love to hear what she is saying, but frustratingly, with no lyrics in the CD case or on her website (strange for a published poet) and her stylistic singing not helping, I have found it a struggle to get a sense of what she is trying to communicate. I also wonder whether my impressions of her sound may have suffered a little from the murky tones on the front cover. Something airier and less brown may have better depicted the Jenny Gillespie experience. 
 
But this is certainly a highly enjoyable, engaging and promising début, which has grown from a three-tock to a (just) four-tock rating with more listens. I got a sense that she could either fade back into cult-obscurity or make a huge name for herself. 
 
Trying to pin down her sound to those who have not heard it is challenging, so I recommend a visit to her web site, where half this album is available free by stream or download. It is worth giving it some time.
 
Derek Walker