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Aldous Harding cuts a divisive figure in the alt-rock world. To his devotees – and there are enough of them to let him play three nights at the Barbican in London at the end of this month – he is a strange and endlessly fascinating person. His words are vague enough to convey a deeper meaning, like a dream waiting to be analyzed. On Train to the Island, his fifth album, you are asked to understand naked owls, your face covered in bechamel sauce, to see “the real John Cale” eating rice in silence, “Sicilians reaching for clams”, and impossible lines: “I save myself by eating stones and plants / I pray for incel.”
The impressive album covers; the presence of an uncomfortable stage and between songs that do not follow each other; amazing clothes; videos filled with her pulling faces and engaging in complex cartoons; an increasing number of high-pitched voices and funny voices when he sings, evident on Train on the Island’s Worms (indistinctly Gallic vowel-stretching) and close Coats (girl’s voice girls); Stop-motion, candid interviews: for fans, this is a testament to reality in a cookie-cutter era.
There are, inevitably, some who find all this impossible, or too self-pitying to benefit from it: as New Order’s Bernard Sumner commented to fellow Mancunians World of Twist, “little by little We Are Strange”. Whether you find Harding strange and unique or admirably created is up to you: there’s no universal knowledge to prove that it’s weird, and one person with an unstoppable problem is always a pain for everyone else in the fight. But, as Island Train proves, what isn’t really in question is his ability as a songwriter.
The album’s content doesn’t stray too far from 2022’s Thank you Chris or 2019 The creator. Like its predecessors, it’s produced by PJ Harvey’s long-time collaborator John Parish, multi-instrumentalist Huw Evans (best known as left-wing rocker H Hawkline) and thrives in a warm, mellow environment, limited by a handful of electronic instruments. Often Radiohead’s sound is a bit troubled around Kid A. In between, the emotion tends to be funky and hard – at odds with the plaintive sound of psychotic and drug addiction. The bass guitar is regularly broken, the harp is put to a strong hold on the coda of What Am I Gonna Do? and the music is driven by guitar and piano. If it doesn’t go too far, it creates an inviting space where its 10 songs appear.
The most interesting thing about the songs that have been said is not surprising, but how they are written tightly, integrated and, in their own way, difficult. Even the longest item here, the title track that clocks in at over five minutes, doesn’t get in the way. Music that sounds like it’s short doesn’t sound like it, but it’s interestingly different and inspiring – just like time One Stop and San Francisco moves unexpectedly from hypnotic piano and electronic piano clouds respectively into a similar, more vivid guitar style. If you are not one of those listeners who like to write and interpret the lyrics to find out more, they serve as a way to sing the best songs: Coats-shifting Coats, or the sparkling duet between Harding and Evans on. Venus in Zinniaor the song that is playing, What do I do? focus more. As the heavy-lidded Worms progresses slowly but sweetly, it’s hard to imagine even the staunchest critic of Harding’s oddball methods not winning a little.
Of course, if you buy Harding’s fiction with all your heart, there are many things that will surprise you: lines that show neurodivergence, or that seem to interfere with his relationship with his mother, whom he dated early in his career, and who was seen doing martial arts in the 2017 movie single. In the front. There’s one song that seems to go to those who want to interpret what they’re driving with a shrug: “I’m just riding that sign,” he sings. “Nobody knows what I’m doing.”
But buying into the myth isn’t necessary to enjoy what’s here. At the heart of the Island Train are things that are less complicated than you might expect. A talented singer and songwriter, subtle yet subtle music; this is straight-up fun that all the weirdness – moral or not – can’t hide.
This week Alexis listened
Ashnymph – Island in the Sky
A fast dance, a little restlessness, and chaos hiding a sweet song: Ashnymph continues to cultivate their amazing lines.
