Album: Virginia MacNaughton

Levers Pulleys & Engines, Paraphernalia

Friday 10 January 2003 01:00 GMT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

There's been a three-year gap between the recording of Virginia MacNaughton's Levers Pulleys & Engines and its release, during which time her brand of urbane, soul-searching folk-rock has crept back into fashion through the success of David Gray, Kathryn Williams, and others. While MacNaughton's voice has something of the pale, wan manner of Dido's, her work is probably most comparable to Williams's, not just in the jazz-tinged refinement of the arrangements, but also in the way that she seeks to unpick the mysteries of human attraction, her songs serving as mirrors to more clearly discern the workings of her own heart. As she enquires early on, in one of the album's most appropriately convoluted lines, "How can you be here still/And what is the maze I find I still want to get lost in with you?". There's a heightened sense, in songs such as "Faceless" and "Big Sky", of the relative power values operating within relationships, with lines such as, "Shallow I can do, I can thrive here", and, "We may be charmed but still essentially prey", suggesting a natural affinity with the more subservient position. "Faceless", in particular, deftly conveys the limbo of living a supporting role to a higher-profile partner, forever suffering the other's maladies and exulting in their triumphs, but always at second-hand. Worry and self-reproach stalk through the album's 10 tracks, constantly questioning motives and fretting over impressions gleaned or given: even the afterglow of sex, in "Night Into Day", seems fraught with apprehension over whether the warmth and intimacy will survive in the cold light of day.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in