The Raven
Album: Black Is The Colour
Label: Self Released
Tracks: 10
Website: http://www.theraven.me

The Raven is the stage name of London-based Carolyn Forbes and Stephen Moncrieff, who released a taster EP a couple of years ago: a disc whose proclivities are further developed on Black Is The Colour, The Raven's first full-length album. Carolyn and Stephen have a particular taste for presenting the darker side of the traditional song repertoire, while at the same time not getting too morbid in the process; their interpretations are stimulating and invariably interesting. The combination of spacious production and intelligent, relatively sparse arrangements proves very effective, although for the most part centred around the simple textures of guitar and flute with occasional embellishment from cello, mandolin and primitive percussiveness.

A slightly eerie take on the album's title song holds one's attention, as does the laid-back syncopation and morris-bound gait of The Cuckoo (a tune set based around the "nest" rather than the "pretty bird" itself). A leisurely, expansive take on The Blacksmith follows, proving a high point after which a less thoughtful, almost rushed (and uncertain-sounding) a cappella Ten Thousand Miles comes as something of a disappointment. However, the disc then increases in interest -and weirdness - as it progresses, with occasional hints of the Sun Also Rises duo in passing; She Moved Through The Fair brings some unsettling and unearthly experimental drones to accompany Carolyn's vocal, while The Snow It Melts The Soonest receives a captivating, though unusually-metred rendition that benefits much from the close harmonies of the two voices (the closing "round" treatment is an intriguing idea too).

The album's lone original song, the rather finely-constructed and idiomatic Greenwood, brings a freshness of approach with its tripping, if mildly cautious spring in the step that the preceding Dribbles Of Brandy tune-set doesn't quite achieve despite best intentions. The duo's account of Rosebud In June is ethereally ritual in nature - and rather beguiling - while the disc comes back to earth (or should I say water) with Stephen's forthright take on the shanty South Australia, which arguably errs on the side of strident, although the full-bodied harmony arrangement is interesting in its own right. After the close of which, though, I was rather left pondering why no ravens had been mentioned, even in passing, during the course of the album…

David Kidman