It is surprising how hard it is to be out of your comfort zone when it comes to music. Sometimes the most challenging music is not the most complex or the most extreme. Rather, it can be music that is of a style which you do not explore often.
For me “Orphne” by Maud the Moth was one such musical journey into the unknown. I say “unknown” but that is not wholly true. Over the years I have dipped my musical ear in the waters that this Madrid based pianist and vocalist inhabits. I can hear parts of Diamanda Galas, smatterings of Kate Bush and Tori Amos. (I’m sure the latter shows my naivete and ignorance when it comes to female singer/composers. Maud the Moth is a solo project of Amaya López-Carromero who began composing alone in her childhood bedroom recording demos on the family twin cassette deck. Orphne is her third full length.
Having admitted my relative ignorance I can wholeheartedly admit that listening to Maud the Moth has been a wonderful experience. Her compositions are filled with emotion – sometimes raw and pained at others joyful or sensual. Opener “Ecdysis” evokes Little Earthquakes era Tori Amos in part but has elements of jazz percussion and her vocal travels up and down the octaves effortlessly but without feeling like an exhibition. The track builds with increasing grandeur to a fittingly gothic ending where only a lone drum thuds over a drawn out chord before moving gently into “ The Mirror Door” which has the feel of entering an abandoned room in an old house that has not seen love or laughter for decades. I can imagine Miss Havesham sat at the piano- resplendent in musty lace and silk. “The Stairwell” that follows is even more eerie and sinister and I am thankful that it is short as there is a claustrophobia caused by its dark atmosphere.
Elsewhere on the album there are drums and strings that bring to mind Emiliana Torrini, as on the haunting “The Abattoir” where the two combine to create a controlled mania that is reined in by Amaya’s amazing voice. “Finisterrae” which follows has a heart-breaking Arabesque lilt played over back-masked strings which segue into the gentlest of piano refrains topped with crashing percussion. There is just so much to listen to here. Every return to the tracks on this album is a further discovery – a new instrument identified or a backing vocal previously un noticed drifts to the surface.
I played “As Above, so Below” on the radio recently as part of a singles review segment. It confused as much as delighted listeners who were reminded of Dead Can Dance and Kate Bush. I can understand why. Taken out of the context of the album this track sounds like an introduction to something else. It is a dark, echoing, choral track that hints at things about to erupt but never comes to fruition, leaving the radio listeners frustrated. What follows on the album however is a complete change of pace with the jazzy, playful “Mormo and the Well” which feels like a curtain has been dragged back exposing half of the room in daylight whilst shadows still taunt from the corners. I find myself not knowing which vocal line to follow and am forced to relax and allow both to flow over me feeling as though I have fallen down the rabbit hole in some Lewis Caroll dream trip. The keyboard strokes and strings offer great comfort.
“Epoxy Bonds” is a masterpiece to finish with. It opens with frantic violins which ushering in a heartachingly beatific melody that evokes feelings of both passion and loss in a lush woodland ritual.
Maud the Moth has produced an album in Orphne that transcends genres and both aids inward reflection and also transports the listener to another place. Very, very exciting to step outside my comfort zone with this one.
(8.5/10 Matt Mason)
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