The Miserable Rich 
Overcome
(Rags To Ruin Records)
★★★★★

THERE is an unexpected and endearing point to The Miserable Rich’s upbeat Crows, with the savvy and resourceful birds as protagonists who navigate environmental chaos with calm and skill — slightly sinisterly, perhaps, trained to pick up cigarette butts in Sweden.

In 2017 band member’s James de Malplaquet and wife Sarah’s first son, Kit died at 13 days after contracting the cold sore virus HSV1 in hospital — misdiagnosed until it was too late. The moving and melancholic Glue was inspired by a nurse who suggested: “You must in face of the tragedy stick together like glue.”

The Brighton-based quintet’s return, after a 10-year hiatus, is an unequivocal triumph. The thoughtful poetry of the lyrics, the music now vociferous, now delicate, composed around strings passages and meandering guest horns, is simply superb.

Candidate for album of the year.

Hannah Rose Platt
Deathbed Confessions
(Xtra Mile Recordings)
★★★★★

HANNAH ROSE PLATT serves a collection of ghost stories, murder ballads, and humorous horrors inspired by classics such as The Twilight Zone, Inside No 9 and the broadside ballads from Samuel Pepys’s collection.

Such storytelling goes back to the 14th and 15th century minstrels and Platt’s exquisite collection is a perfect contemporary exponent of that tradition.

The pounding terror crescendo of Dead Man On The G Train sets the tone, while The Mermaid & The Sailor “he can’t shut my song,” oozes mesmerising fatalism. 

The rich musical individuality and masterly arrangements of The Gentleman, Tango With Your Fear, Wendigo Rag or Home For Wayward Dolls are simply stupendous. Platts phrases her delicate voice into a hypnotic rendering of every singular story, while the virtuoso accompaniment embroiders the melody and rhythm.

Magnificently idiosyncratic and rewarding, certain to be listened to time and time again.

Davie Furey 
Glimpses of the Truth
(Davie Furey Music)
★★★★★

THE Irish troubadour appears more meditative throughout this offering, epitomised by the philosophical and delicate ballad Heaven Can Wait in which he’s deftly accompanied by pianist Steve Milne, or the souped-up Where She Hides, with terrific melodious guitar riffs.

Perhaps the answer can be glimpsed in the melancholy of Not The Man You Used To Know “something got me by surprise, made the tears come in my eyes” or the reflective Stargazer.

Still, Furey wouldn’t be himself without releasing the inner rocker and that trademark vigour and energy define the anthemic History, The Exile Blues or the tragically humorous Long Black Coat, imaginatively beefed up by a horns section.

At the heart of the music is the expressive range of Furey’s warm voice, equally accomplished in sonorous crooning as belting out. 

A superb “mixture of heavy and light, dark and bright, caged and free.”