Having already made more genuinely special music in three albums than most artists deliver in a lifetime, Julia Holter has once again managed to find somewhere else to take her sound. In the time since 2013’s superlative ‘Loud City Song’, she has worked with reborn American folk artist Linda Perhacs, assisting in her first record in forty-four years, and contributed to a compilation album featuring a fine cast of artists interpreting unheard lyrics from another figure from folk mythology, Karen Dalton.
Amongst all of this came a limited single release for a cover of the Bacharach/David composition ‘Don’t Make Me Over’, made famous by Dionne Warwick. A beguilingly understated reading which still maintained the emotional punch of the original, it hinted at an interest in the traditional confines of popular music. Much has already been made of the more conventional song structures favoured here compared to some of her previous work, most notably 2011’s ‘Tragedy’, based around Euripides’ ‘Hippolytus’, but any fears that this might somehow subdue the overwhelming imagination of Holter’s music are rapidly allayed.
The notion of wilderness mentioned in the title abounds on this record, with characters disappearing or escaping here, there and everywhere and the sonic space on some tracks creating that sense of confusion and isolation for the listener. Despite this, and perhaps the most notable change from what has gone before, ‘Have You In My Wilderness’ is an album that needs to pour out of speakers and occupy the room.
The layers of sound, as with her finest work to date, conjure aural pictures out of nothing, not least the lapping waves on ‘Lucette Stranded On The Island’. Partially inspired by a Colette story, ‘Chance Acquaintances’, in which Lucette has been wounded, abandoned and left to wake in a state of total confusion, the evocative nature of the music perfectly aligns with its story. The disorienting opening slowly evolves into a woozy shuffle before the water appears to come crashing over her at the song’s close.
Such ambition is perhaps to be expected from a fan of Joni Mitchell’s jazz phase and Miles Davis’ electric era, two remarkably coherent coordinates in the wilderness of these ten songs. The brushed-cymbal, jittery drums and spoken word, other-worldly vocals on ‘Vasquez’ combine to create something genuinely confusing, occasional moments of string-assisted clarity emerging from the mist.
The intricate pop of ‘Sea Calls Me Home’ reinforces its themes of freedom through a joyous and carefree whistling part before a sax-break elevates the whole thing to another plane. Starting with lopsided clock chimes, ‘Everytime Boots’ is a country song of sorts, built around a gloriously playful and mischievous beat. As with much of ‘Have You In My Wilderness’, the music is as adept at telling the story as the lyrics it accompanies.
The album-closing title track at first seems to be a story of all-consuming love, but the lyrics also hint at a sense of possession and control, building towards the final words on the record: “why do I feel you running away?” The delicate backdrop moves through the gears, rising to a point of tension, highlighting the mixed message at the heart of the song. It is typical of a record where music and words are inseparably intertwined. It’s hard to imagine anyone else ever recording these songs, so indelibly does Holter leave her mark. Such has been the consistency of the run of albums from ‘Tragedy’ through ‘Ekstasis’ to ‘Loud City Song’, garnering praise from all corners, there is a risk that we might take such quality for granted. Just one listen will remove any such complacency.