Let me just get one thing straight. I love Kate Bush passionately, and she can really do no wrong in my eyes. That said, I wasn’t a massive fan of her last two albums. She’d been away an awfully long time and the first one was basically just birdsong. Weird. And the one after that was a reinvention of songs I’d already heard. So I was UBER EXCITED when I heard there was to be a brand new album, and not only that. Oh no. STEPHEN FRY IS ON IT. As one of Stephen’s 10 squillion Twitter followers, I felt like I’d got the inside scoop when he announced that he was recording with Kate Bush. I wasn’t, obviously. But I felt like I’d discovered an incredible secret.
That’s kind of how I feel when I listen to this album. It’s like entering someone’s head when they aren’t looking and swimming around in their thoughts. Kate’s music has always felt very close and intimate, like she’s whispering in your ear, singing just for you.
The eponymous track 50 Words for Snow starts out surprisingly Indie. It has a very instrumental beginning, but once our Kate starts singing with that familiar haunting voice you’re right back there with her. It’s like she’s never been away. The album title comes from the myth that Eskimos have 50 words for snow (rubbished by my English professors), and the fanciful names are so beautiful and emotive. ‘Stella Tundra. Hunter’s Dream’ intones Stephen as Kate counts alongside him – just delicious. It’s a celebration of language and as a hopeless word junkie, I‘m hooked. For someone listening with a slightly more objective ear it might be more difficult to sit through, but Kate’s hardcore fans will find it hard to tear themselves away.
My favourite track of this short (although the 7 tracks are an hour long in total) but perfectly composed album is Snowflake. With more focus on Kate’s warm and glowing vocals, backed by film score piano, this song is a world of beauty. The way she sings lyrics makes them feel true, and the simplicity of the words is touching and almost familiar. With all the noise in this modern world, taking the time to listen to some delicate piano and a voice from my childhood is a rare treat that I feel myself sinking into. The high notes of Snowflake remind me of a piece of music that not everyone will be familiar with: ’Song for Titus’ from the BBC adaptation of Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast. This is a very fitting comparison, as the same haunting weirdness that Peake created in his novels is the very epitome of Kate’s music. Raw – slightly unnerving – emotion.
She’s over 50 now, but THAT VOICE is still childlike and playful and it’s just a complete delight to hear in this time of Beiber and Chipmunk and all the other thousand dead-faced clones. Robber’s Veil. Ankle Breaker. Simmer Glisten. Deep and Hidden. Bad for Trains. Vanishing World. Lose yourself in this album for a while, and leave it feeling refreshed and separated from the loud reality of life.
