Cleo T.
Songs of Gold & Shadow

Dances of death, spectral choirs, and calls from the beyond... These are the main elements composing a fascinating and devilishly captivating album like the debut of the young French singer-songwriter Cleo T., who, with the admirable production of Josh Parish (a name surely familiar to those who follow PJ Harvey), skillfully navigates between folk reminiscences and atmospheres that recall Tori Amos of "From the Choirgirl Hotel" seasoned with some jazz/lounge sprinkles, weaving the web of a dark and smoky retro universe with strong noir shades. A world from which it is difficult not to be immediately attracted, seduced by the fragile and enchanting voice of the girl, surprisingly able to encapsulate within itself the beauty of the aforementioned PJ Harvey and the dizzying peaks typical of the incomparable Kate Bush, although the more childlike and fairytale-like shades traceable in the music of the British singer-songwriter are practically absent here.

Because the picture painted with the shades of "Songs of Gold & Shadow" is anything but cheerful, indeed: while it in some ways also recalls the more delicate moments of Janelle Monáe's "The Archandroid," right from the solemn opener "I Love Me, I Love Me Not," it is clear how everything is painted with spectral shades, and even in moments when it seems possible to glimpse the light, it is impossible not to still feel a sense of anguish. Pleasant, mind you, but still anguish. And the few bright glimpses that occasionally peek through one track and another are soon destined to vanish, swallowed up in a dense and enveloping darkness, ready to accompany us for the entire duration of the listening experience. So, one should not be under the illusion of being able to enjoy for long the warmth of the subtle and delicate jazz of "We All" and "Kingdom of Smoke," as this will soon be engulfed by the aggressive theatricality of the almost circus-like "Dead and Gone" and "Song to The Moon" and the intense noir atmospheres of "Trista Stella," only to swirl into sensual and captivating waltzes with a folk flavor ("Columbine", "Me & The Ghost"), without giving up some minimalist flashes ("Little Girl Lost", enriched by a well-fitting spectral gospel choir) and some dark litanies (the aforementioned opener "I Love Me, I Love Me Not" and the nocturnal closing of "So Long Ago Yesterday").

What Cleo T. offers us is therefore a one-way ticket to a disturbing universe not easy to understand, but one that is absolutely worth exploring, as once you become a part of it, it will be hard to want to go back. Sure, it might not be a milestone like the best works of PJ Harvey or that untouchable and still unequaled masterpiece "The Dreaming" by Kate Bush, but it's also true that rarely in recent years have we seen singer-songwriters and artists so interesting and able to produce small, yet precious gems, even without innovating anything. A well-deserved promotion, therefore, for this young debutante, who I hope can surprise again in the future and have a bright career, because she thoroughly deserves it!