This CD is interesting for what it's not. It's not a very good folk music assemblage, and where the promo lit got the idea that the repertoire is "avant-folk cult" I have no clue, 'cause it's not that, but Kath Bloom most definitely can be a brilliant poetess through brutally honest and insightful verses illuminated by the rough magic occurring between states of human bafflement and enigma. No, not the hours between shifts in psychology but the weird interplay of simultaneously warring passions and emotions in the most vulnerable suspension of linear flow, the states that make life frustrating and poignant concurrently. These are all love refrains one way or the other, but they evoke hope arising from the labor it takes to build and maintain relationships at every level. Not all the compositions possess the raw elegance of the opening quartet (Everything Looks Different at Night, Love Me, Midnight Moon, and Close to Something), about half the entire gatherum shines, but when Bloom is on, she's really on. So, in Terror, we don't have a musician but rather a poet who hasn't come to her full powers yet. The music, in fact, is distracting, needs to go, and Bloom's every waking moment should be dedicated to the Muse Of Words, as poetry is very badly in need of what's being intermittantly done here, having died the death not long after Edgar Lee Masters and kindred put quill to parchment, gasping right up until around the best of Lorca and Carlos Williams and then leaving us bereft of true hectors, haranguers, and hope-mongers.
Edited by: David N. Pyles
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