ALISON COTTON
The Gods Laugh (Tak:til)
Alison Cotton has been quietly weaving her sonic spells in relative obscurity for a few years, but now – with folk horror flavour of the month in film and the likes of Lankum stripping folk music of its fusty, staid, twee trappings – it feels as though the witching hour has finally struck. Yet The Gods Laugh is also out of time, its roots reaching down into the dark, fertile mulch of tradition.
These mournful incantations – sometimes skeletal, sometimes cinematic – draw together harmonium drones, ethereal echo-chamber choirs, electronic swells and faint percussion like spectral fingers tapping on windowpanes. I Am sets a John Clare poem to music, its autumnal chill ceding to sharp viola feedback and foreboding minimal drums, while the moment during the metallic shimmer and haze of What Were Those Words You Spoke To Me? when a haunted music box comes to life is enough to send shivers up any spine.
The Gods Laugh is a portal to the spirit world, a door flung open to let in the night, a source of inspiration to screenwriters – and Cotton’s best record yet.
words BEN WOOLHEAD
