Tracklist:
- Into the Night
- Your Mind
- December Rain
- You Forever
- Masquerade
- Darkness Falls
- December Rain (instrumental)
If Lovecraft has delivered terror, vengeance, and bestial
lust to the gothic scene, then how to credit the gentle touch of young passion,
sorrow, and Indian headdress? One
Canadian girl and her keyboard reckons she’s come up with the answer. And, suitably, she’s named it
Schoolcraft. Having emerged with a
debut single in 2011, late 2012 has seen the internet release of Schoolcraft’s
first EP, an unassuming 7-track offering of keys, strings, and swaying vocals
entitled Rushing through the Sky.
For the most part, this is a record of soft, bubbly character. With limited space for the driving influence of drums – and none at all for the growls of power chords – it’s doubtful Schoolcraft’s soulful combination of pianos and strings could be regarded as metal at all. Taking, at first appearance, the path of least confrontation, the EP gently wanders through a landscape of mid-paced, inoffensive formations: self-harmonising vocal lines, swaying keys, and drifting strings, all as evident in the first track, Into the Night, as in its six successors.
Opting against the aggression and
arresting power of so many contemporary gothic outfits, Schoolcraft winds her
work around a largely soft-boned skeleton of lyrical themes, predominantly
covering a couplet of love and loss. It
would probably be fair to say these mean somewhat more to their author than they
will to her audience. A suggestibly
standard concoction, lyrics move with an unassuming grace, but are often
handicapped by an overall lack of insight.
The hazardously familiar formulation, “December rain”, in a song by that
same name, is matched in predictable fashion by a command to “wash away the
pain”, while the following tracks variously link “forever” with “never”,
“hollow” with “follow”, and “die” with “cry”.
Whatever might be said against
the strength of her poetry, however, there can be no questioning Schoolcraft’s
conviction in her themes, which clearly reflect a genuine strength of
emotion. And, at its strongest, the
soft bubbles reflect passions with a faithfully sympathetic subtlety. Striking, in particular, is the delicately
carved track 6, Darkness Falls, which masterfully negotiates the challenges of
a duet between a heartbreakingly innocent voice and the gentle drips of harp
strings. No mean feat, certainly, to
construct such an effective combination out of so few colours, even when violin
strokes slide into the picture in respectful imitation towards the final bars.
It’s a sign of a steady
determination not to overcomplicate work.
Throughout the EP, keys move with an assured step in straightforward but
effective patterns, soft strings offering bass, block-chords, and, on occasion,
simple patterns of their own. The
larger part of the music, it seems, is powered by a single keyboard. A smattering of vocal accompaniment appears
from time to time to offer additional intensity to the work, studiously
avoiding the dangers of musical overcrowding, a welcome and stirring balance of
purposefulness and self-assured limitation.
This prevailing sense of
restraint in the cause of cohesion is demonstrated, for better and for worse,
by the somewhat unexpected final track, a vocal-less rerun of the
aforementioned December Rain. For its
detractors, this offering may be, with some justification, criticised for its
exposure of the main weaknesses in Schoolcraft’s music: behind the stronger,
bright tones of piano keys lurk some dubious string parts which slush around,
struggling to keep pace with the tempo and precision of the keys. On the other hand, there’s a niggling
suspicion that the decision to round off the EP with an instrumental version of
a previously expressed song is a genuine stroke of genius. By bringing back pre-established themes,
December Rain (instrumental) rounds off the album with a satisfying
familiarity, in the vein of fellow-Canadian and all-round legend, Neil Young
(“here’s one you’ll all recognise!”).
And there’s generally more than
immediately meets the eye. Amid the
carefully-balanced scenery, it is particularly pleasing to find an
assertiveness and backbone which appears, unabated, at various points in the record. While track 1, Into the Night’s swirling
synths and striding drum line make this aspect of the music immediately
apparent, it’s most clearly demonstrated four tracks later, in Masquerade, a
belligerent assertion of personal autonomy against the backdrop of manipulative
relationships: “A pet that you thought you could tame/I refuse my face in your
masquerade”. Bouncy brass punch out a
stubborn bass line, while piano keys and, subsequently, high woodwind flitter
and prod at the top-range of notes.
Swelling with a force of indignation in the final stanzas, deep,
powerful string tones provide a sturdy body to movement.
What, on first impressions, may
seem a somewhat lightweight record therefore reveals increasing subtlety as it
moves towards its steadily more impressive final tracks. Without doubt, Schoolcraft’s debut EP is
nice, and not always in the best sense of the word: tones, in large part
sythesised, tend towards the pale, on occasion even flabby; songs, short and
simple, do not obviously push musical boundaries. What is both admirable and impressive, however, is her ability to
construct music from her conscious strengths without either overextending or
repeating material (one exception, of course…). Schoolcraft is soft, she’s measured, and she’s moody. But listen carefully and you’ll find she’s
also decisive, bolshy, and very talented.
The basis for a fruitful and exciting career has been laid.
Production: 4/5
Lyrics: 2/5
Album Cohesion: 4/5*
Music: 7/10
Percentage Score: 68/100
* although EPs don’t usually receive a mark on this
count, there’s enough space for and signs of thematic progression to warrant
attention to album cohesion.
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