Shelley Harland’s debut album Red Leaf has found its home in my stereo for the past couple of weeks. I must admit that the first time I heard it the disc washed over me in a wave of pleasant. It was a lovely experience, but not one that compelled me to rush back.
Days passed before I gave it another spin, and then I had to give it another spin just to be sure, but I think I’ve got it. It’s not that this album isn’t accessible first time around, but it is one that gets a little richer with every listen. You need time to appreciate its understated charms.
There’s nothing flashy about Shelley’s music. In “Friday,” she’s singing about the way the drone of nine to five leaves us waiting for the weekend. In “Clouds Disappear” she recounts another ordinary day, with flat walkman batteries, trips to the laundromat, and TV dinners.
The music too is low-key. That organic sound is so appealing when everything on the radio seems to be produced and processed within an inch of its life. An acoustic guitar and a couple of strings leave plenty of room for the songs and Shelley’s ethereal voice to fill, and fill them they do.
On this album, Shelley Harland has proven herself to be a master craftsman of songs that are accessible, yet surprisingly complex. Red Leaf is a slow burner, but once it grabs you it doesn’t let go.
Image source: Shelley Harland MySpace