Beloved One

Lou Rhodes is best known as the outrageously distinctive and talented vocalist from the electronic duo Lamb (with Andy Barlow). Beloved One was released on her own Infinite Bloom label in the U.K. in 2006, and was short-listed for England's distinctive and prestigious Mercury Prize. Beloved One stands in stark contrast to Rhodes' work with Lamb. More often than not she's accompanied by an acoustic guitar — her own — strings, minimal organic percussion, a piano here and there, acoustic double bass, and more. Yeah: radically different. Rhodes being the guarded and private person she is, reading too much into this set would be a mistake. That said, both her marriage to Crispin Robinson and her professional partnership with Barlow in Lamb ended within the same year. That's enough of a double whammy to send anyone scrambling for cover. Rhodes, however, digs deep into the blessings of modern life. From "Each Moment New," the set's opening track, there is an aesthetic at work: one of naked honesty, carefully regarded optimism, and the courage to look forward while treasuring what it took to arrive in the present. Despite its natural sounding overtones — and the cover, which is a bit of a pisser since the U.K.'s cover (now on the back of the booklet, so just turn it over) was so much more moving and beautiful — this is no granola hippie freak folk record. The woman who sings about pain being necessary for rebirth, for death being necessary for resurrection, that blessings lie in each day and the only thing that matters is love, all this comes through without maudlin sentiment or glib platitudes to the cosmos. In fact, these songs are rife with the hard truth of self-discovery, feeling as if they were written in the moment of it. "Tremble," with its swirling cellos in the backdrop and a melody worthy of Rickie Lee Jones at her edgiest, is a portrait of love as it washes over the singer. "Fortress," with its olde English overtones, is as taut a song about the freezing of a heart as has ever been written. Its circular round melody, the slippery bowed double bass, cellos, and hand percussion take it down the path where Waterson Carthy sups with Richard Thompson. "Inlakesh" is as free-form love song with its syncopated pace, behind-the-beat hand drums and a floating refrain that is a dazzler as well. But then, Beloved One is loaded with great songs. Rhodes is gifted as both a lyricist and melodist. She understands how to write for the strengths in her voice and leave the rest by the wayside. She's no slouch as a guitarist, either, as displayed on virtually any track here. The final cut on the set, "Why," is decidedly bigger in production but no less organic. It's got the Lamb beat sensibility but without the loops. It moans, soars and swoops in the grain of Rhodes voice; there is also a long silence (four minutes) after which comes a brief a cappella lullaby by Rhodes. Of the three bonus cuts on the American edition of Beloved One (released by Cooking Vinyl USA) one is also written by Barlow: a tender, jazzy little ballad. The other two are love songs — one literal, one figurative — meaning there is resurrection after death. And the last track here, "The End," is stated emphatically and even riotously as a pub or communal sing. In fact, all of this glorious little record feels, with its few melancholy moments, as if there is an unbridled belief in the redemption of the moment, in the belief that possibility, revealed in song, is endless, without giddiness or gimmick. Beloved One is one of those very special records; once encountered earnestly, it cannot be forgotten.