Fiona Brice is one of those artists many have heard but few have actually heard of.
Her pedigree includes orchestral arrangements for artists ranging from Vashti Bunyan to Placebo and violin performances with those of the calibre and muscle of Kanye West and Beyonce, and this debut album is a tentative, shy step out of the background into the spotlight.
With a melodic strength and sense of economy no doubt derived from her usual day job and the exacting demands that would normally be placed on her, she hasn’t burst out of her shell with a flourish but has slipped gently out of the cocoon to reveal her colours.
Sonic textures weave in and out of these pieces subtly – ghostly voices twist around slowly entwining strings and delicate piano motifs - and each piece is almost suffocatingly reined in.
Moody, dark, sombre and filled with grace, beauty and an air of mystery, this is candlelit twilight music.
A meditative collection of mood pieces written in the cities they name check, each gives a taste of a feeling, a memory, an essence.
Much like postcards.
Hence the strangeness and charm of Glastonbury, the spacey Dallas, the majestic melancholy of Verona, the ominous military precision of St Petersburg.
Maybe more like notes in a diary.
Or as she calls them, “musical selfies”.
Musician, actor, singer, music reviewer, Phil’s interests cover a lot of bases and this is reflected in the music he writes about. From blues to soul, ambient to electronic, Phil writes about artists he feels are interesting, true to their craft and worthy of your ears.