PJ Harvey and John Parish

While John Parish has a long working association with Harvey, having produced her breakthrough To Bring You My Love and the bold White Chalk, this disc is only the second occasion the two have paired as composer-lyricist (after 1996’s Dance Hall at Louse Point). And what an occasion it is. AWAMWB soars to anthemic heights, plumbs horrifically murky and love-stricken emotional depths, carries the weight of the world with a uniquely British combination of tragedy and resolve and completes a trio of albums marking a return to the inventive DIY vitality that made her the perennial reclusive cult-critical favourite she is. Parish’s music, especially his guitar work (he also played most other instruments, save the drums), shows command over a variety of styles; from bluesy stomp (”˜Sixteen, Fifteen, Fourteen,’ quite like STP’s ”˜Pretty Penny’) to Neil Young chiming guitars (”˜Black Hearted Love’), a drum and bass progressive rocker (”˜The Chair,’ with an off-kilter Bjork-ish melody) and a two part opus brimming first with vitriolic force, then lush with another intense prog arrangement (”˜A Woman a Man Walked By/The Crow Knows Where All the Little Children Go’). As for Harvey, she never lets go of her grip on proceedings, with the break of the regrettably indulgent ”˜April.’ Ten storytelling tracks, starting with straight-up alternative rock and moving through eerie plainchant waltzes (”˜Leaving California’), the violent assault of the title track (a song that references the singer’s early rawness, as does the maxed-out punk wailing and yipping of ”˜Pig Will Not’), poignant childlike ballads (”˜The Soldier’) and dirges (”˜Passionless, Pointless’) to close on a heartbreaking little poem (”˜Cracks in the Canvas’). There is creativity and urgency of purpose on this album that one can’t deny.