Towards the end of album opener ‘My Baby Don’t Understand Me’, Natalie Prass repeats the line “our love is a long goodbye” numerous times, each iteration slightly more pained than the last. It’s stirring stuff, but the bit which told me pretty much instantly that this would become a favourite record is the slightly fidgety “waiting on the train” that cuts across that phrase on several occasions. It’s delivered high, putting the spotlight on Prass’ unusual but affecting voice. It’s a fitting way to set out the stall for an album which, while driven by quite the musical collective, is all about a singular artist.
Much has been written about how this album ended up waiting on the shelf at Spacebomb Records after the unexpected success of Matthew E. White’s ‘Big Love’ several years back. ‘Natalie Prass’ was ready to go back in 2012, the same musicians working on both records as part of the label’s house band. Looking to do something not dissimilar to the classic soul labels of the Sixties and Seventies, White and producer Trey Pollard developed a knack for making limited resources stretch quite remarkably and the same luscious sound that greeted our ears with the co-founder’s debut is also present here.
Essentially a soul record with a few nods to musicals and country, ‘Natalie Prass’ documents heartache in impressively pithy fashion. The expansive rhythm section and warm orchestration that the Spacebomb team lend to proceedings make for something truly special. Some of these songs can be found online in early demo form and, while their charms are still evident, they have come a long way. ‘Your Fool’, in particular, had an openly retro twang that is some distance from the strings, horns and percussive strut it possesses in its current form. “You’ll come back to an empty house with a note signed sincerely, your fool,” is quite the refrain, especially when you learn that many of these songs were co-written with an ex. So effective is this particular lyric that it emerges again as ‘Reprise’ towards the end of the record, spaced out aspects of the original whirling around a narration of those same words. It’s a curious, timeless manoeuvre which serves to further underline the old-school ethic at the heart of the Spacebomb project.
Each and every one of the tracks on the album are worthy of comment, for one reason or another. ‘Christy’ is a dour, string laden lament to a helpless love triangle, Prass’ vocal a part-sung, part-whispered ache of confusion and resignation. ‘Why Don’t You Believe In Me‘ is the most Matthew E. White-y of the songs here, initially evoking memories of the second half of ‘Brazos’ from the end of ‘Big Love’. For this, Prass uses the full range of her voice, building up to an accusatory chorus that demonstrates resolve in the face of sadness.
‘Violently’ starts quietly, light piano and some weaving electric guitar intertwining, only for the line “break my legs because they want to walk to you” to cut through as strings emerge from the background and convey a snarling frustration. They soar across the song as Prass explains “I’ve had enough of talking politely. The red is there, it’s all over me. It’s overlaid eloquently.” The rousing orchestration seems a little at odds with the message, but it’s a magical combination and one of the album’s numerous highpoints.
‘Never Over You’ and ‘Bird Of Prey’ both do the mid-paced swagger to great effect, the latter possessing a swooping chorus and some neat, understated ‘oooh-oooh’ back-ups in the middle-eight that will get under your skin. The record manages to be remarkably cohesive considering the willingness to nip about stylistically. Most striking is the final track, ‘It Is You’, which melds harp, flute and vintage, saccharine strings to sound like a defining moment from a musical. It should be jarring but it is an oddly apt way to draw together the beguiling strands of Natalie Prass’ talents. A piece which highlights the rather otherworldly quality of her voice underlines just what it is that makes the record such a compelling listen. It’s hard to imagine anyone not warming to this album. While it made for quite the summer record in 2015, it could well also prove a neat way to unite the family in the claustrophobic festive fug of the next fortnight. Wonderful songwriting, soul-tingling musicianship and truly affecting delivery make ‘Natalie Prass’ a genuinely special album.
I should also flag up the marvellous ‘Side By Side’ EP that was released recently. Recorded live in the Spacebomb studios, it features fresh takes on ‘My Baby Don’t Understand Me’ and ‘Christy’. Perhaps more noteworthy, however, is the choice of cover versions included. Anita Baker’s ‘Caught Up In The Rapture’ works neatly, Grimes’ ‘REALiTi’ is played straight, its modern jazz leanings pulled to the fore, but the third selection is arguably the best. Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Sound Of Silence’ finds the funk and builds around some wonderful organ playing into something irresistibly joyous. A curious diversion it may be, but a welcome additional release for those already smitten with the fabulous album.