kelli ali & ozymandias: a paradise inhabited by devils

Kelli Ali has made a career of dramatic left turns, flitting from one musical incarnation to another, but in the past few years her chameleonic tendencies have morphed into a sensually fluid, natural and logical transition. The folk-kissed reinvention of 2008′s Max Richter-produced Rocking Horse felt as distant from her days as the face and voice of ’90s trip-hop darlings Sneaker Pimps as it was possible to go, but tenderly found Ali finally claiming a sound for her own. Her subsequent output has been a finely-tuned affair, and largely done off her own back. Last year she self-released Butterfly, a follow-up and counterpart to Rocking Horse, which reimagined that album with a rawer, acoustic interpretation with startling results.

In keeping with her habit of working with all sorts of collaborators, in 2009 Ali was invited by celebrated neoclassical pianist and composer Christophe Terrettaz (aka Ozymandias) to join him in Switzerland with a view to working on an album together. Before long the pair found a mutual passion in the darkly opulent literary world of Mary Shelley, and following several sessions between London and Switzerland, this haunting collection was eventually completed, with Ali handling the lyrics and vocals and Terrettaz manning the piano and writing the music.

Sneaking out via Bandcamp earlier this month, the aptly titled A Paradise Inhabited By Devils – a term Shelley once apparently used to describe the city of Naples – offers eleven chilling piano-and-vocal compositions that give Ali the space to turn her tender, crystalline purr into a choral panorama of richly textured proportions. Opener ‘Dark Mirror’ instantly sets the uneasy tone, building and falling firmly, though never imposingly, around Ali’s lyrics as they veer back and forth between choral, delicate English and eerie Latin chanting, allowing all elements their moment in the spotlight.

Spotlight though, is perhaps the wrong word to use here. Though every track tells its unique story, the album as a whole screams to be listened to in one sitting, around a candle as the wind howls and rain pours outside. The constancy in its formula allows both Terrettaz and Ali to weave around each other, never treading on each other’s toes and never letting the atmosphere wane for a moment. ‘Mercy & Sorrow’ and ‘Maurice’, perhaps the most delicate pieces in the collection, may only features Ali improvising quietly and wordlessly in the background but her presence is never outshone. Terrettaz takes the reins on the instrumental pieces ‘Despina’ and ‘Elisabeth & Victor’, but never abuses the opportunity to exert his presence, adding warm conduits and resolutions in his solo moments.

Mary Shelley enthusiasts will find much to cherish among this collection; Ali and Terrettaz certainly know her catalogue well (fun fact: ‘Ozymandias’ is the title of a sonnet by Shelley’s husband Percy). The obvious surface references aside (see the powerful, almost witchy chanting on ‘The Death Of Despina’), Ali has dug deeper to give voiceless characters from Shelley’s various works a chance to make their presence known and respectfully live outside of the author’s dark, Gothic pages. Those less familiar with Shelley’s works needn’t worry, though, as the cryptic, sparse and often medieval lyrics offer the listener plenty of scope to interpret them as they see fit.

Penultimate track ‘Only The Sun’ gallantly gestures Ali to take centre stage for the first time on the album. Over Terrettaz’s delicate piano work, her minimal lyric is slowly delivered with one of her most tender performances to date before Terrettaz’s playing picks up pace and tension, resulting in a hair-raising finale. ‘Elisabeth & Victor’ then draws the collection to a close, acting almost as an epilogue, reflecting on what came before it.

In Terrettaz, Ali has found a musical partner who understands her subconscious need to evolve by combining the past with the present, and the pair have channelled that into a simple but rewarding tapestry on which Ali has been able to spread her wings like never before. Although the music industry’s (d)evolution has denied this release – for the time being anyway – a home on a charming dusty old vinyl (where it ideally belongs) or a luscious leatherbound, velvet-lined digipak CD, this near-perfect collection combines the ancient with the modern like neither artist perhaps imagined possible.

[Self-released; November 8, 2010]

Written by: Leigh Bartlam

Tags: a paradise inhabited by devils, kelli ali, ozymandias

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 24th, 2010 at 4:54 pm and is filed under albums & EPs, reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.