Mütter

Should actors sing? Should singers act? The general, make that virtually universal, answer is of course no. Maria Doyle Kennedy is the exception that proves the rule.
If her music career hasn’t been as recognised as it could have been, it’s probably because the acting side has come to dominate the public’s attention. Perhaps due to this clash of interests, it’s been six years since her debut solo record Charm, four of which were taken up with the making of Mütter. Yet, as with everything she does, Mütter is high quality. As attention grabbing devices go, the lead single ‘Fuckability’ is perhaps a double edged sword – a fantastic song but surely excluding itself from any degree on mainstream coverage. Its industrial swamp rock production is also largely unrepresentative of the rest of the album, but Mütter is full of meticulous attention to sonic detail. Helmed by husband Kieran Kennedy, the production is astounding – referencing everybody from Sigur Ros to Sandy Denny and the Cocteau Twins. It’s also an album that is unafraid to explore the darker side of life, from the very first line of ‘Unbelievable’ onwards.
With much of the material inspired by Chuck Palahniuk’s novel Diary, it’s hard to gauge how much is character and how much is an exploration of the singer’s own demons (‘40 Days’ sounds like nothing so much as an acoustic panic attack). Whatever the case, it certainly presents a different side of the woman we have come to know, her vocals by turns fragile and strident, particularly on the haunting ambient folk of ‘Mother’. Further in, ‘Call Me’ is an aching but elegantly arranged chamber piece, ‘Opera’ a girl group classic with a Dusty-esque vocal shrouded in muslin, while the rather lovely ‘Swoon’ brings things to a rich, airy conclusion. Six long years to wait, but worth every minute.