Kathryn Williams - 'Leave To Remain' (Caw) Released 02/10/06

Miss Williams has been left a little battered and bruised since her triumphant Mercury Prize nomination for ‘Little Black Numbers’ in 2000 which first brought her into the limelight and even had some sources hailing her a “genius”.  In reaching this, her sixth album, she’s suffered personal slumps, poor reviews and a somewhat dodgy covers album. However, ‘Leave To Remain’s’ opener, ‘Blue Onto You’, both subtle and reflective, is a perfect example of Williams’ unquestionably original song writing. Here, a whole host of feelings, sensations and textures are represented in some way, by the colour blue. The vocal is multi layered in places, beautifully harmonised as she makes the revelation “blue came from within me”. Later she breathily declares, “blue doesn’t really exist”. Make your mind up, love.

‘Let It Happen’ is one of the sadder songs on the album and talks of things that have “slipped away and are never coming back”. The dappled, serene string section goes straight for the tear duct as Williams’ pure, reed-like voice sounds like a blast of cold wind. She talks of wanting to cry but she can’t “like when it’s too cold to snow”. There is a real emptiness and loneliness about the song that is no better off for having accepted its fate. The song is ruined somewhat towards the end however, as she begins, unexpectedly, to wail and repeat words over and over again. You end up switching off something you were quite enjoying.

The most trembling and gentle strings usher in ‘Sustain Pedal’ only to be out-done by the vocal that sounds so vulnerable you feel as if Williams would run and cower in a corner if you were to so much as glance at her the wrong way. “Your breath from a kiss went down my throat” is one of the standout lyrics in a song about holding down a pedal to make a note, a moment, last for as long as possible. But it ends on a dark note, Williams asking for the note to last and last until it drowns. You begin to realise however, after yet another string-led piece like ‘When’, that there is little musical variation on this album. It can get a bit boring and cause the old eyes (and ears) to glaze over at times.
The album closes on an ambiguous note, hinting at perhaps some of Williams’ inner demons.

‘Room In My Head’ speaks evocatively of a room being like a museum “with framed pictures of you”. She veers between defiance and tenderness; “you’ll never get in” or “you’ll never get out”. Williams has spoken in the past of being embarrassed by her songs and performing. There is certainly an air of vulnerability about her voice and lyrics which in itself a special thing to capture on record. The album does have an unvarying mood however, which you would certainly need to be in to fully enjoy it.