Rykarda Parasol

For Blood and Wine

(self-released)

Record Review by Marcel Feldmar

Dark, moody, lovely.

While you can’t help but listen to this and find echoes of PJ Harvey, there is definitely something else going on as well. The depth of the vocals stretch a little more towards Nick Cave, as, I think, do the lyrics. Perhaps combining PJ Harvey and Nick Cave is an easy route, but it’s hard to do it well. Rykarda Parasol do it very well.

The second song on the album bursts into life following a short intro, and this is where the album truly begins. “A Drinking Song” is just that, but it’s not your party-rousing drinking here, it’s a gothic gutter stormy weather ready for murder drinking song. When these drinks are done, you’d better lock your doors and beware of the night. Rykarda hits on a touch of Siouxsie Sioux, but pushed into a different direction by the haunted Americana twisting rhythms behind her. Like a gloomy and slightly more straightforward 16 Horsepower.

Then a lonely piano slides out underneath the vocals, world weary and haunting, on “Widow in White,” and time seems to slow down, stop, and all you can do is just listen to the song.

Just listen…

Sometimes the notes and rhythms hit a little towards a Mark Lanegan whiskey-soaked late night cabaret blue velvet seduction, as in the song “Maggie.” You can feel the rain falling, you can taste the deep weather and the whiskey glasses slowly emptying. Lush, hypnotic, seductive.

“One For Joy” hits out with a demented carnival Tom Waitsian rhythm, with Rykarda coming in like some Midnight Jim Morrison queen, like a minimal Banshee crawling over the ruins of some ghostly fairground. Then a slight shift, and we’re into “Hold Back The Night,” which holds on to that Nick Cave storytelling shadow, but the stories are worth listening to. This is poetic, this is music, this is poetry. The vocals move out like a cross between Johnette Napolitano and Marianne Faithfull.

That is, I think, brilliant. While not the most dynamic song on the album, this song is one I could just keep listening to. It moves like smoke and blood. It tastes like wine.

I want to go back and find previous albums. I want to hear Rykarda’s take on the Gun Club’s “She’s Like Heroin To Me,” which is found on the 2003 EP Here She Comes. I want to swim in the notes, and breathe in the lyrics.

There are two instrumentals on this album, “For All Men Kill…” and “…The Thing They Love”, which are just short shades of heart-wrenching sorrow and distance. The rest of the songs hold the same shades, but they’re broken with that warmth of voice, that human touch. That slow dance for a last chance, and the hope shines through. A little closer to lust than love, but that’s quite alright with me.