Moira Smiley
Unzip the Horizon
I was toying between Don Gallardo's wonderful Still Here and Smiley's Unzip the Horizon for Album of the
Month, but Ms. Smiley wins the boldness prize by a landslide. The horizon isn't
the only thing she unzips in this innovative solo effort; you won't recognize
her if you only know her work with Rising Appalachia, or as lead vocalist for
Solas, or even VOCA. She has carved out new terrain for herself far from the
constraints of accepted genres. Is this a Moira Goes Maura album? Sort of,
though there is just one Maura O'Connell and Smiley has ventured onto turf
where O'Connell has never trod.
Unzip the Horizon
was inspired by Smiley's conversation with a Ukrainian woman who told her that
singing puts her in touch with her ancestors and helps her deal with the
future. Smiley enlists assistance from folks such Seamus Egan (Solas), Darrell
Scott, trad singers Anna and Elizabeth, and Leah and Chloe Smith (Appalachia
Rising), but the project itself borrows vibes from Americana, Celtic, indie,
folk, show tunes, and lord knows what else, mixes them with borrowed sounds and
hands us a bagful of gems of sparkling hues.
"Bellow" is where West Africa meets indie rock
and studio loops. It's unusual, but only partly typical of what else is in
store, although there is definitely a Carib-African feel to the pulsing
"Refugee," which is bass, percussion, and vocals—also a plea for the
plight of the displaced: Bring me
shelter/I will not harm you. There is the cacophonic opening to
"Mother of Invention that sets the mood for Smiley to make sense of it with a catch in her voice that turns noise into music. "Wiseman" is
the most Celtic thing on the album, but it turns Celtic inside out and makes it
into a spare arrangement that spotlights her vocals and those of Sam Lee. When
Deana El Saffar's fiddle comes in, it's as mood enhancer, not a tempo-raiser. I
was staggered by "One Step Dance," which is fragile as glass and as
beautiful as a sunset. I unabashedly admit that "Dressed in Yellow"
moved me to tears, with its moving confessional of forgiving a
distant-sometimes-abusive father through the acknowledgment of the "many
things to know" that hitherto were not. Anna and Elizabeth weigh in on
segues that are half waulking song and half Greek chorus.
There are so many unexpected things on this record.
"Dissatisfaction" spells out the word in a song summed by the lines: Dissatisfaction, you're a strange drug/You
don't give me pleasure-you don't give me love. In an odd way it's a
rejoinder to Aretha Franklin's "Respect" and a backdoor nod to The
Rolling Stones'
"Satisfaction," though it doesn't sound a thing like either of
them. Not that Smiley can't get soulful; she does on songs such as the
harmony-rich "Sing About It," which she says was inspired by both
Kate Bush and Sweet Honey in the Rock. She's soulful also on "Rotary
Phone," which opens to banjo notes and then swirls into something that's
part jazz and part soul. Jazz also gets a workout in the dark-yet-hopeful
"Our Time." And, of course, she also unzips traditional music in her
unique arrangements of "Worried Now" and "Leather
Britches." This is simply an astonishing piece of work on every level.
Shall I add that the Vermont-born Smiley has traveled far from home?
Rob Weir
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