Marissa Nadler – ‘New Radiations’ album review: Gothic folk enchanted with old world energy
For some strange reason, the minor detail of Marissa Nadler’s upbringing in Massachusetts’ small town of Needham adds a pertinence to her ethereal style of introspective folk wanderings.
Forming one of the original thirteen colonies upon the USA’s 18th-century birth, Nadler’s intimate sonic realms feel authentically connected to the spectral residue that lies buried in the East Coast’s long-sedimented ghosts and apparitions, the same evocative energy that glows in the works of Edgar Allan Poe or the headless menace that haunts Sleep Hollow.
The American old world is once again stepped into for Nadler’s tenth and latest album, New Radiations. Teaming up with long-time collaborator and multi-instrumentalist Milky Burgess and enjoying an expert mix from the aural sculptor behind some of drone-metallers Earth and Sunn O)))’s most acclaimed albums, Nadler casts her unique phantasmagorical spell over each of New Radiations’ 11 cuts, plundering a crackling swirl of gothic shroud and arcane spirit that depicts the US cultural landscape as precariously wavering on a realm of magical realism.
Not that the record is a mere window of escapism. Nadler deploys devices as exotic as and disparate as a Cessna aircraft, spaceships, speeding cars, and even alternate dimensions to observe the human condition’s ever-tumultuous terrain through an askance lens. Such imaginary filters never suppress raw feeling and a potent well of rumination, pangs of regret, spiritual ache, and weathered mourn all glitter across Nadler’s lyrical vignettes of the world’s troubled or yearning characters.
Intimacy is what keeps New Radiations so viscerally alive. Anchoring her folk enchantment and dreamy acoustics in a sharp and swaddling presence, Nadler’s string picking and nocturnal vocals all imbue each song with an immersive pull into the world she’s woven, helped in no small part by Burgess’ smart and understated arrangements.
While there’s no doubt about the stirring splendour Nadler’s channelled, New Radiations can begin to feel stuck in a compositional uniformity. A certain flow and nature can nag with familiarity as the album progresses, leaving one wishing Nadler would wander further into the distant woods that her evocative songwriting so often beckons. Sonic and atmospheric retreads aside, Nadler has conjured an impressive 10th LP effort that whisks away the listener to a plane far removed from the choking contemporary, a place both trepidatious and eerily comforting.
For fans of: Dead Hessian soldiers.
A concluding comment from a puckwudgie: “This is exactly the record we needed”.
New Radiations track by track:
Release: August 15th | Producer: Marissa Nadler | Label: Bella Union
‘It Hits Harder’: Wasting no time to set the tone of the record. Nadler’s siren tones clash magically against the electric metal guitar’s distant brontide. [3.5/5]
‘Bad Dreams Summertime’: Strangely echoes the 1950s world of doo wop or Christian gospel pop. A surrealist fever dream. [3.5/5]
‘You Called Her Camellia’: Pensive reverie carried some distance by Nadler’s earthy acoustic strings. Twangy guitars that swoop in raise the whole game. [3.5/5]
‘Smoke Screen Selene’: Emerges in a thick plume of illusory fog. Swirls with electricity and a masterful dance of strings and fuzz guitar. [4/5]
‘New Radiations’: An assemblage of parts and flavours we’ve already touched on. Never quite lifts off. [2.5/5]
‘If It’s An Illusion’: A charming wander into further dream folk soundscapes. Stirring, but lacking surprises. [3/5]
‘Hatchet Man’: That backing muffled keyboard is exquisite. Packed with gothic Americana energy. [4/5]
‘Light Years’: A well-familiar route now. Any evocative potential has been dulled by the déjà vu. [2.5/5]
‘Weightless Above The Water’: The chords travel in a way that’s majestic and confounding. Nadler’s alluring vocals hold everything together with panache. [3.5/5]
‘To Be The Moon King’: A number grabbing at celestial reach involving sky rockets, but could just as easily be viewed as the human need for escape. Austere and transportive. [3/5]
‘Sad Satellite’: Ending on no new hinterlands, but a fitting coda to the album’s contemplative traverse. [3/5]
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