Pretty soon she won't have to release limited-edition records on tiny indies because, thanks to you, she'll be famous.
“No Dolby,” pronounces the label sadly on the promotional tape. And this is a ‘No Dolby’ kind of world, the world of [a]Kathryn Williams[/a]. A life shot in black and white, in one room, on the edge of the mattress. A drink and smoke taken wryly after the affair, alone. In Durham. Looks like snow again…
Gifted with the voice of a tender angel part heartbreaker, part heartbroken Williams is a mid-20s misplaced Scouser living in Newcastle who writes burning, intense songs using the simplest tools. An acoustic guitar. The rattle of a tambourine. Perhaps a cello. That’s what she arms herself with to paint her pictures of longing, lust and regret on this, her first single, taken from her first album, ‘Dog Leap Stairs’. And pretty soon she won’t have to release limited-edition records on tiny indies because, thanks to you, she’ll
Game’s up Beth, Terry Callier or no Terry Callier.