(Independent)

Exuberant genre fusion

I’m sure this was not the intention, but some of the songwriting in The Definition Of... is so condensed that it allows for a cool peculiarity: frontwoman Sian Evans sometimes talk-raps. This is particularly distinctive in the album’s initial tracks. It adds to their already three-headed beast – gypsy-jazz, diva bluegrass, R&B folk – all very ear-friendly crossbreeds. Even when Evans lets down the dreadlocks and advocates for Mother Earth and shampoo-tested chimpanzees (Concrete, Paper, Plastic), she’s conscious not to crease the folds of her warm velvety poise, translucent in tracks such as Woman and Cliché. Her deep, clear vocals are the obvious centrepiece of the album, with a troupe of sliding brass and drumsticks hop-stepping to her swinging rhythm. In Did You Ever?, shades of Fiona Apple blur into Evans’ own husky groans, and even the theme of ever-failing relationships seems the same – the difference being Evans sings with voluptuous confidence, not skinny-girl naiveté.

ALICE REZENDE

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