Tales of Silversleeve is a disorientating listen. Not merely because of Cathy Davey’s surreal lyrics- although they are little more than collections of suggestive phrases- or the sudden shifts in mood and genre- Davey jumps from countrified pop to minimalist electro within seconds. It’s the subtext of strange passions and carnal desire, more familiar from the likes of Nick Cave but here translated into pristine pop that Kylie could appropriate. Tales of Silversleeve is the album for anyone who enjoyed the dark sensuality of The Dresden Dolls but wished that they sounded just a little more like The Pipettes.
That isn’t to dismiss with faint praise. Individual tracks, like the swinging ‘No Heart Today’, are state of the art alternative pop, all lush arrangements, sneaky melodies and carefree guitar. A meticulous attention to detail, odd backing vocals and a voice that ranges from a hum to a perky lustiness: Davey bridges the gap between the chart and the left-field. From the menacing intro to ‘Sing for Your Supper’ to the deceptively innocent-sounding ‘Mr Kill’, she discovers a territory that is danceable while remaining uncomfortable.
Unfortunately, the traces of other artists are not always hidden. ‘Moving’ bears a passing resemblance to a KD Laing track of similar name, and The Cure’s ‘Love Cats’ surfaces on several tracks- gothic skiffle being a rare form and easily recognisable. It is Davey’s voice that gives Silversleeve its distinction. While she is less mannered than, say, Bjork, she invests every song with breathy passion and sincere phrasing. Perhaps not a classic in the making, but a solid snapshot of a burgeoning performer.