Marmite. Some people love it, some people hate it, and that’s the whole point. Me, I’m different, I love the stuff, and at one and the same time, it well and truly gives me the shivers. But despite its truly icky tang, I can’t put it down till the jar is scooped clean with my little finger. Go figure.
That’s somehow the perfect metaphor for debut album ‘Highwire Poetry’ by Karin Park; bits of it that give me the shivers and bits that I love. I’m really and honestly grateful for that, I would so much prefer a strong reaction than the tepid “quite-nice-really” shallow water through which we all to often wade.
Karin is Swedish and 6’3″ tall. She’s been described with some accuracy as an electro-goth princess. How she got that way was via an odd, isolated upbringing, where the only relief from a remote, rural, religious upbringing was to attend a Japanese mission school. I think that would make most of us retreat into ourselves, plough our own furrow, and that’s how it’s been for her. It’s all come good now – back home in Sweden she has already picked up two Grammys and she has toured with the likes of SBTRKT.
The album kicks off with recent single ‘Restless’ and that’s where the marmite effect first shows. The production is huge, brash and pop; they turned the dial to ” way over the top” and then snuck it back half a notch. The voice kicks in all little girly, fighting with the disco gloss. It’s right here that I realised that I had to really commit to this album, suspend cynicism, and once I’d got my throat round that, it really started working for me. Next track ‘Fryngies’ is all itch and scratch; the chorus ‘Legs don’t fail me, stumble and fall’ is one of the strongest lines I’ve heard all year, catching over a bassline that’s like dubstep gone civilised.
Get onto ‘Tiger Dreams’ though, and despite the sweet and grimy lead in, I guarantee that anyone listening will demand to know if it’s a new one by Bjork. That the refrain contains lines about being a ‘runner and a hunter’ means that you might as well give up arguing. So, once again, commit, get over yourself, and yes, here’s yet another compelling track. It keeps going with punchy soaring lines, all drama, gets a tiny bit sixth form poetry in ‘New Era’ but remains a thrilling roller coaster. Or at least it does until ‘6000 years’ at which point the roller-coast is well and truly derailed, and you’re forced to remain seated in the car while some amateur mechanics drag you grating across potholes and gravel. Listen to it once, then programme your player to skip. Thank heavens that it’s rescued by a nice piece of hi-nrg, and then the album closes with the totally excellent ‘Bending Albert’s Law’, a drifting and wheeling ballad about altering physics to get your lover to your side. This is not a ‘pleasant’ record and thank the lord for that. It’s brilliant and grating all in the same moment. Given half a chance, I suspect we have the beginnings of a prodigious talent showing out right here.
[Rating:3]
