I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for acoustic guitar and piano, especially when they’re paired with delicate soundscapes that evoke specific times of the year, or push the emotions into places of calm, or even sadness.
The first time I heard Emphemetry, which is essentially the pseudonym of the artist, Richard J. Birkin, I was hooked. Elements of Gravenhurst, but with a classical backdrop. A clear, northern accent piercing like strands of sunlight through a cloudy day. It’s obvious, almost immediately, that this isn’t your standard laidback singer songwriter album.
Richard has scored music for film and TV, played with the London Contemporary Orchestra, recorded music for, and at, Abbey Road Studios, and released critically-acclaimed classical-inspired albums. Yet, it’s his earlier, guitar-led work that deserves wider attention.
Each song on ‘A Lullaby Hum for Tired Streets’ flows, like a meandering river; they evoke late-night drives through industrial towns; they’re reminiscent of watching dust motes float through derelict mills, or through half-built new builds of the edge of a once-bustling town. Yet, it is a shining light that brings beauty to all those ideas of decay and forgottenness. There’s a sense it could have some beats applied and you’d have an after-club-comedown soundtrack, too. A Lullaby Hum for Tired Streets is aptly named in that respect.
While it’s a dozen years old now, like all good Unspun Heroes it travels through time and somehow remains current even as it ages. You’re pulled like a riptide towards songs such as Five Fields, or Francis Thompson, which is over nine minutes in length but sails through those minutes like it’s a catchy pop song; as it nears its end, so it breaks down to the bedrock of the song’s structure, all the while never feeling like it’s repetitive or drawn out. Or Emileodie, which begins with a piano refrain that is simple, yet intricate, shifting to a minor key just as you think you’ve got a handle on it.
There are so many beautiful moments scattered throughout the ten tracks. But it’s Richard’s voice that really makes this album a triumph. He uses his voice like a painter uses a brush, to add texture or highlights. It’s not the focus of the album like you’d expect. However, if it were to be removed from these songs it would leave them feeling unfinished, or perhaps bereft would be the better word. No more so than on So Long Magic Helper, one of the many, many highlights.
The album is available on a limited edition vinyl release, mastered by Nils Frahm and pressed in Berlin. You should add it to your collection.