And now for something that’ll truly blow you away, not by force of sonic, sound or bluster but by sheer nature, quite something else this ‘un and while Lights in the Attic have always been good on delivering quality time and time again – this believe you me blows all that that has gone before in the water. The name Sylvie Simmons may among most be more familiar in music journalism spheres, author, critic and historian she has since the late 70’s plied a reputable craft and garnered herself that most rare respect among her peers.
What’s not so obvious though is that journalism was a happy by product borne out of a hesitancy, to chance a dream of performing herself. It would take the persuasive call of Howe Gelb last year to get her to commit to tape, and on that tape, recordings that would shape this her debut album.
Buddying up to Light from the Attic makes total sense, of course the label has an enviable repute and pedigree at unearthing lost nuggets from forgotten vaults with their catalogue by and large sounding like a vintage archive or more so a library of overlooked wonders. Rarer still the outlet for a debuting full length. But then hearing ‘You Are in my Arms’ and the surface contradictions soon began to dissolve and disappear for this comes phrased in the kind of sepia framed timelessness softly spell crafted in a delicately demurring twinkling 50’s velour that hints to a bittersweet song craft long since forgotten. Here trembled and softly spun braided upon a lolloping country tweaked motif that aches and coos to sound like something dreamed from a lovelorn exchanging over a crossroads garden fence between Doris Day and Patsy Cline with a side serving of Isabelle Campbell and Karen Dalton for added measure. Unreal.
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