Rhiannon Hope celebrates the art of collecting memories with ‘Magpie’
It’s rare to find an artist like Rhiannon Hope, one who allows such vulnerability and intimacy to be exposed so fervently, yet so tenderly – she is a maverick, and her new single, ‘Magpie’, is the ultimate proof.
Over the past year, Hope’s place in the Leeds music scene has been unmistakable – when she played in Hyde Park Book Club’s Snug back in January as part of Regtown Festival, the tiny room was crammed with quiet listeners, and her performance brought the bustling event to a standstill. People forgot about the drinks in their hands or what was on the rest of the agenda for the day, Hope has a unique talent for grounding you in the present and hypnotising you into complete submission.
She does this on ‘Magpie’, which has just been released via Private Regcords, a local indie label also responsible for her debut EP, All Things Rising and Returning. This offering, which came last September, began with Hope and an accordion – stripped back and sparse – and on ‘Magpie’, she welcomes us into her sonic space with similar simplicity. This time, though, the accordion is replaced by melodic keys, which possess a nostalgic, reflective tone.
Hope’s voice soon chimes in, and it moves like elastic. She stretches and shapes it, pulling it before snapping it back closer towards her, allowing a note to chop and change with incredible control. Hope draws us into this mythic web that she has so intricately woven, allowing us to sink into some gorgeous lyrical meditations on the act of collecting, of lineage.
“Every day I see my handwriting resembling my mother’s,” Hope sings, “I don’t know how much of me is me, and how much of me is you.”
Midway through the seven-minute track, the rest of Hope’s band joins in, building a fuller palette, which includes a saxophone whining softly, majestically, in the background – the band plays with space, allowing Hope’s voice to sprawl out, to take time, there’s no rushing, but no dragging. Everything emerges in perfect synchronicity.
Hope has this traditional folk sensibility, and it’s as though she has emerged from the past – from that feminine tradition of singing to each other while working in fields and sharing stories and memories. She brings this into the present day, where influences from the ‘60s to now collide.
She describes the track as an ode to trinkets, to “all the shit I have ever accumulated and loved; trinkets, hats, plants, mugs, posters, books, and anything else. All the things that bring me comfort and make me feel like a person.” It’s this appreciation of small details, and those tiny things that make us feel alive, which bleeds through Hope’s writing, and her warm voice is a sonic encapsulation of such homeliness.
To celebrate the single, Hope will be joined by fellow Leeds-based artists Neve Cariad and Sam King for a free headline show in the city’s most iconic venue, Brudenell Social Club. If you’re local to Leeds, you’d be a fool to miss out on witnessing such magic in the flesh.
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