Kate Rusby is one of the few traditional performers who has managed to cross over from the folk scene into the mainstream, as one one of the most recognised folk singers outwith the traditional world. This possibly has a lot to do with her cameo appearance in a Ronan Keating song a couple of years ago, obviously a shrewd move on Rusby's part - but it only goes to expose the hollow nature of mainstream music's followers, who wouldn't be seen dead listening to a traditional folk album unless sanctioned first by either radio 1 or Top Of The Pops. This said, Kate Rusby should be held in high regard by the folk scene for bringing it to a much wider audience.
'Awkward Annie' is the follow up to 'The Girl Who Couldn't Fly', and is the first album not to have been produced by John McCusker. I am a fan of McCusker's production, and was therefore intrigued to hear this new self produced album - the difference is clear, and Rusby's production is beautifully subtle and understated. Kate Rusby's voice is such though, that even if the album was recorded on a dictaphone - it would still hold up. The title track is a surreal folkie ballad typical of Rusby's writing, tinged with humour whilst tirelessly brandishing the standard of the traditional ballad. A tale of unrequited love (though, I fear that description could apply to almost any folk ballad).
One of the things I always enjoy when listening to a new folk album is the fact that no two performers ever seem to use the same title for a traditional song, so there are always a few familiar songs you weren't expecting. 'John Barbury' being one of these, a beautiful rendition of a song I've always known as 'Willie o Winsbury' as performed by the likes of Pentangle and Dick Gaughan, and 'Bloomin Heather' with which I take issue with slightly, because the title is 'Wild Mountain Thyme' (ours is not to reason why). Wild Mountain Thyme, sorry - 'Bloomin Heather' should be one of my favourite tracks on the album, but it is let down by the jarring backing vocals, which I'm sure would be lovely at the Royal Opera House - but they just don't work on a folk album.
Give me a pair of headphones and leave me with track 6 though - 'Planets' is four minutes and ten seconds of folk genius. The mixture between Rusby's voice, and the only time I've ever heard what I'd describe as an emotionally charged banjo (yes, banjo).
The whole album is definately more downbeat and personal, perhaps reflecting recent events in Rusby's own life. The album is the best yet though, and I guess it's true that heartache and sadness often lend themselves well to the creative spirit (if that doesn't sound too much like pish).
