There are artists who seem to inhabit another world. A world that mere mortals can only dream of inhabiting. In fact the only evidence that this world exists is through the window provided by this wonderful medium of music.
Kate Bush is one of these artist. No sorry let me rephrase that she is that artist. No one embodies this artistic utopia better than Bush. Ever since she burst onto the scene with the feverish ‘Wuthering Heights’ almost 34 years ago, this remarkable woman has defined what it is to protect your artistic integrity.
Working at her own pace, never enough to cater to the insatiable appetite of her fans. Bush has a track record of disappearing into her reclusive cosmic cave of creativity, for years, decades even. Before when least expected springing her magnificence on us. Like a coiled viper striking at it’s prey except she coils and measure a lot longer and the impact of her music is much longer lasting.
Anyone who disagrees I implore them to listen to album Hounds of Love and tell me that it doesn’t sound as fresh today. She pirouettes like a geisha and her vocals carry the listener on a soft cloud to a glimpse to the other world. But while all her old material may sound just as fresh she’s back, with new material in the form of 50 Words For Snow.
Over six years since her last outing with Ariel, 50 Words For Snow features the trait that makes Bush great, unpredictability. There is no pressure here to craft something for commercial success. As organic as a truffle from the deepest Italian forest, Bush pitter patters through the deep snow with effortless ease.
No slush or ice here. Once again she is at home with her subject, this time snow. I had to laugh when a group called JSL or something along those lines said they’d been doing concept albums. Boys, this is what a concept album is.
Mystically deconstructing and exploring each facet of the seasonal white stuff. It’s not a scientific thing, but an artistic approach. Enamoured by Bush’s inability to rest on her laurels 50 Words For Snow, reverberates like methane blasts in the frozen tundra.
The only drawback is that Bush demands you set time aside, huddle around a roaring fire and let yourself be embraced by ethereal goodness. ‘Among Angles’ is the shortest track on the album clocking in at 6:48. ‘Misty’ clocks in at a monumental 13:32.
It might be a bit too much for an XFactor drenched, iGeneration, MyFace and Spacebook generation to comprehend. But should someone wish to take a peek into the window of other worldly greatness should make some time and revel in a genius of our times.