She may be ‘calcinated’ these days – calcination being what happens when you burn metals, apparently – but icy brutalism continues to define the work of [a]Scout Niblett[/a]. Evocative of early [a]PJ Harvey[/a] or a non-hipster Kills, with this captivating fifth album the Portland-residing Nottingham exile delivers a fresh batch of searing confessionals over languidly strummed electric guitar and fitful percussion. A disquieting atmosphere is conjured by both the constant shifts in tempo and Niblett’s emotionally naked lyrics, while [a]Steve Albini[/a]’s naturalistic production deepens the album’s near-menacing intimacy. If calcination sounds like this, equip music venues with furnaces.
Niall O’Keeffe
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