Little Black Numbers - Kathryn Williams > Reviews > Darker than the inside of a cow

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Originality
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How does it compare to the artist's other releases
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Advantages:	Tender, swirling scrumminess
Disadvantages:	The end

Recommend to potential buyers:

yes

Full review

Puffy-faced, wonky-eyed dumpy folkstress Kathryn Williams picks out a lilting rhythm on her guitar. Our idle chatter falls away to a captivated hush and we hear the soft pop of her generous lips parting as she leans in to the microphone to breathe an aching lament to loves lost.

See, I WAS going to use this space to gush praise about that other token folkie Mercury Music Award nominee Kate Rusby, whose cascading golden corkscrew locks and faultless flattened vowels once inflamed my heart with tender desires. In fact for two years my breast stirred with an unquiet longing for no other woman but her and when my boss refused to let me play 'Sleepless' at work, branding it a 'funereal dirge' that was 'upsetting the customers' I was quite devastated, but sought comfort in my vivid memories of those buttock-hugging white 501s she sported for a free open-air gig here in Bradford earlier this year.

However, my illusions have now been dashed.

"You only have to look at that heavy cleft chin," said a concerned friend recently, "to see that Kate Rusby is a man in drag."

She has a point, it must be said.

So I'd like instead to introduce you to Miss Rusby's successor as fantasy folk totty.

Kathryn Williams is my kinda gal. Never one to let the insurmountable obstacles of shyness and ineptitude stand in her way, she has transformed herself in just a few fleeting years from mediocre art student to darling of the international beard-stroking coffee house music scene armed only with a handful of delicately crafted, hauntingly melodic songs of love and lies.

The story began back in her humble art school lodgings where she first strummed her enchanting compositions to a gathering of crusty, cider-addled pals. So mesmerised was this small audience that they soon conspired a cunning plan to short-circuit Kathryn's resolute reluctance to take to the stage and set her firmly on the path to stardom.

"We think you're being selfish," they announced one evening, "so we've booked a gig for you."

Gulp.

Her friends' instincts were, of course, bloody spot on. She won over the public within moments of opening her gob and, much to her delight, her satchelful of hastily prepared demo tapes, each with its own lovingly hand-painted inlay card sold like, erm... hot toasted cinnamon & raisin bagels. Word spread and a pioneer of the new acoustic movement was born.

Kathryn's first CD "Dog Leap Stairs", recorded for a reputed £80 and released on her own label "Caw" in 1999, earned her yet more acclaim along with the somewhat unfair title "Nick Drake with knockers". Its ten sparsely arranged lo-fi tracks make for an engaging, although sometimes uncomfortably intimate listen with her reverb-drenched whispered accusations of trust betrayed cutting through a gauze of acoustic melancholy.

"I am no pig with its trotters on your plate to come and cut into, salivate into," she bitterly affirms in the closing moments of "What am I doing Here?"

Yeah, Kath. Leave the good for nothing oaf. Run, girl, run into my welcoming arms. Sigh...

The CD I'd urge you to investigate, however, is her second release.

"Little Black Numbers" (originally on Caw and now reissued on East West) is a rare gem of warmth and clarity, each of the twelve tracks pared down to the barest of bones and recorded with a naked intimacy, unadorned by layers of reverb or overdub. In fact, my first listen served as a refreshing reminder of what real instruments actually SOUND like!

The skilful arrangements centre around a firmly-plucked double bass, thumping and sliding a hypnotic counter melody of its own as Kathryn's sparse, rhythmic guitar sparkles alongside and a sparingly employed cello sweeps waves of rich texture into the delicious sound.

Hell, it's a right bugger trying to describe music, ain't it? It's a magical experience, you'll just have to take my word for it.

Unlike Nick Drake, whose barely memorable, casually meandering half-tunes hang onto his sure-fingered fretwork, Kathryn Williams' songs, I assure you, will charm there way into the very fibre of your being. Her pure voice weaves unforgettable shapes of solid, melodic pop and her lyrics sketch scattered details of tantalising scraps of conversation and imagery.

"The water was like creased old leather lit by a bare bulb," she coos on "We Dug a Hole" for instance.

But the most touching moments come when she let's us glimpse for a moment her vulnerable innocence.

"I used to follow you round in a casual way, miss good shows on the radio, just to see your face," she sighs, fraught with nerves, as she prepares to meet again the object of her hopeless affections years on.

Kath, listen to me. He's not good enough for you. Forget the lousy sod. Come run away with meeeeeee.

I can't begin to recommend this CD vehemently enough, so why not have a free listen for yourself at...

http://www.peoplesound.com/artist/kathrynwilliams

And join me in a quiet revolution.