Much has been made about the resurgence of folk music in the last few years. This renaissance has taken place in two main incarnations: “pop” folk (see Mumford and Sons et al ) and a contemporary take on the traditional (see The Unthanks et al). One area that has had more limited press is one of experimental folk. A genre that probably strikes fear into the hearts of many, but one which Rachael Dadd has embraced as her own as a young artist. Dadd stands out with a unique approach. An artist and songwriter who’s continually on the move, she adopts a magpie, do-it-yourself approach to her writing.
Bite The Mountain was recorded, mainly on to tape, during a 2 month tour around Japan, a country she’s embraced as a second home. A talented multi-instrumentalist in her own right, she plays clarinet, banjo, guitar, thumb piano and more. She’s also joined by some players she encountered on her travels including experimental Japanese musician Ichi, Japanese composer Aki Tsuyuko, Inada Makoto from improvisational band PAAP, and Maher Shalal Hash Baz member Yumi Ozaki. With these accomplices it would be churlish and naive to classify Dadd with the pop-folk pretenders. Here is a young artist who wants to do something different, to combine her predominantly folk influences with more experimental and non-routine arrangements.
‘Balloon’ begins with the simply played stringiness of a ukulele, Dadd’s voice purring, building to the closing verse of “You can’t remember where you came from andyou can’t get sight of where you’re going to, and you only sense your real existence when you’re in the shadow of the mountain, and it’s bigger than you”. The song describes the enormity of life itself, the way you can get lost in its vastness and, sometimes, only truly feeling alive when you get dwarfed by the sheer physicality of Mother Nature. There’s a hint of the grand Queen of British music Kate Bush in the piano led ‘Moth in the Motor’. There’s an earthy, old Englishness to it: “Brown like mud, moth flew into town, over my gate with the flags hanging down”. This visitor celebrated on its arrival, a distraction from the everyday grind “For we’ve been wielding our machines far too much these days. And there are so many things that we don’t need coming to stay”. Dadd is unimpressed with our decreasing connection with real-life, “machines” taking over and dulling our instincts and perceptions.
‘The Distance’ sees Dadd covering matters of the heart. An enaging, warm sounding guitar and clarinet skip over her breathless vocals: “What did you do with me when you found me at the bottom, at the bottom of your heart?”. That pang in your stomach when you think about somebody you thought was forgotten, a past love who, out of nowhere, comes rushing to mind when something reminds you of them… ‘Hedgehog’ might initially come across as something of a children’s story but the woodwind accompaniment and the angelic harmonies rise it above this, before it finishes with a Japanese translation of the story, giving it the feeling of a parable rather than a straight-forward tale: “Would somebody love me, would somebody hug me, if it wasn’t for these prickles”.
It’s the simple and poignant arrangements that hold the key. They’re completely charming in their sparsely populated but elegantly clear way. There’s nothing grand or sweeping, and no Bronte fascination here. The individual instruments are given all the time they need, they’re not played down or added as an afterthought; there’s space for them to breath, almost endlessly, completely immersing you in the songs. The arrangements are integral to the feel of the songs, the lyrics and music are entwined to form the fine fabric that Dadd has woven. She’s also formed a close bond with her surroundings; there’s a fascination with plants, animals and the environment. Parallels are drawn between human emotions and the enormity of nature – how we’re as much a part of this earth as it is a part of us. It’s this combination that makes Bite The Mountain stand out above all the other recent young folk pretenders. The songs are real, the arrangements absorbing and different – the “usual” doesn’t apply here.
Bite The Mountain is a breathtaking piece of work. To be falsely included in the raft of young bands that have recently “popularised” folk would do Dadd a massive disservice. This is intelligent song writing that sounds, more often than not, older than her slender years. Everything is there for a reason, each word perfectly placed, each note exquisitely executed. This is a collection of real, honest, open and, at times, raw, songs. Dadd is no longer realising early promise, she’s gone beyond that now: we can only look forward to what she’ll achieve in the future and should be celebrated for taking the non-obvious route on her travels.
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