If last year’s Carbon Glacier announced Laura Veirs as a slowburn talent we’d all do well to keep a close eye on, her follow up, Year of Meteors, suggests she’s almost worth upping sticks for and following around the country.
Like its predecessor, Meteors is a refined and not-entirely-of-this-world record; neglecting any contemplation of its own navel in favour of some seriously wide-eyed, and impressively rendered, study of the flux and flow of nature. Thank god for that.
Bookish and wearing its concerns in places as heavily as an Ivy League sweater (be warned: this is a world of mermaids, skylarks and ‘Parisian Dreams’), Veirs does lay herself open to easy parody.
But live alongside it for a while and you’ll find your cynical heart begins to thaw.
For a start, somewhere in its mix of odd lyrical conceits (“ships and their lawlessness running wild/and the waves wearing their bright blue summer best”) and air-light, not-that-folky, folk, Meteor manages to conjure up a weird and distinctive poetry.
Also, the very obvious interest Veirs has in ambient sound makes for a deceptively provocative listen. This is by no means spit and sawdust acoustic pop – in places (‘Galaxies’, ‘Where Gravity Is Dead’) there’s a sophisticated and playfully challenging, almost Bjorkian sensibility at play.
Others may pass up the invitation, but go on, be brave – take a step outside and watch the night sky with Laura.