If you know Aldous Harding, you know she is a folk singer-songwriter like no other. She is charming, sarcastic, and cryptic, with a musical curiosity of a mischievous and highly imaginative pre-teen, having just the right amount of avidity and apathy.
Train On The Island does not have much in the way of striking moments or pomp and circumstance. It does, however, “boast” of Harding’s brilliance—her intriguing lyrics, thespian-like singing personas, and unusual song arrangements—with subtle cleverness. This is a simple folk record where nothing is straightforward.
There is a deliberate quietness throughout the album, and within this self-imposed restraint is Harding’s world, bristling with imagination. The agonizing hushedness of “I Ate The Most” is almost subterranean, with the music and singing performed with insect-like noiselessness. And just like the microcosm of insects, when you peek closer, this track is beautifully strange and fascinating. “What Am I Gonna Do” has a muted, almost bossa nova-like rhythm with soft jazzy drumming and minimal droning keyboard sounds, where everything is played gingerly and the song teems with action underneath its surface.
There is not a single moment on this album that is plain. Harding always finds a way to make the ordinary sound different. The most “singer-songwriter” track “Venus In The Zinnia,” with an acoustic guitar tune that’s fairly basic, has a lovely back and forth singing between Harding and Welsh singer-songwriter H. Hawkline. With the song’s ever-shifting structure, the lingering strange analog synth sound, and the jazzy pianos coming as a surprise towards the end, it is still simple, but far from ordinary. Harding’s multi-persona vocals add the most interesting twists to her songs. For instance, her creepily squeaky vocal accompaniment to her normal singing on “Coats” adds a bit of naughtiness to this rather proper number.
On this album, co-produced by longtime collaborator John Parish, Harding’s ideas are giving the room to roam wild and thrive. The genius of Harding is that although her ideas are untamed, she expresses them with astute focus and clarity, so they sound less like a whole lot of strangeness thrown randomly at you and more like a world whose strangeness is likable and fascinating.