Kelly Lee Owens - Inner Song

August 28, 2020 - Smalltown Supersound

Various 2020-related delays, a common theme this month, have given up the ghost on Kelly Lee Owens’s Inner Song, one of My Most Anticipated Projects of this trip around the sun. The Welsh-born London-based musician has kept a relatively low profile since her self-titled debut, working in a few remixes here and a handful of shows there. No doubt there was quite a tour planned around the release of this sophomore project, a myriad of dark, sweaty clubs to fill with dark, sweaty acoustic accoutrement. Alas, though, as we must make do with the album on its own, on our own, alone with the music and our thoughts. (Who am I kidding? I have no desire to be sweaty or out or not alone. The music is company enough.)

We open to a cover of ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’ from Radiohead’s 2007 LP In Rainbows. This album came out during an important but distant time of my life, as I’m sure it did for the similar-age-to-me Owens. Presented here is a straightforward transposition of ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’’s guitar line onto an analogue synth with percussion coming in later. The treatment feels more mechanical, more precise than the hand-plucked arpeggio; there’s also a lack of vocals. For me, Owens is creating a headspace rather than a direct callback; sometimes the key to feeling exists somewhere better already. It’s better to use that key than to use a different door. We’re in now. ‘On’ starts with Owens voice on top of minimal instrumentation, verses of moving on, of hope in moving forward. Electronic percussion and synth lines pull in contrast to this, calling back to 90s raves, techno dreams, and summer nostalgia. It’s a tantalizing combination; Owens keeps her voice clear and direct, choosing to only lightly modulate the angelic vocal descents that whisper throughout.

‘Melt!’ slinks in next, filling the space with heavily resonant plinks and drips that spread out like cracks forming on a frozen lake. Actually, I’m fairly certain the noise in question is (probably) that of (probably) Nordic ice skaters (probably) skating on thin, black ice. It’s a wonderful noise used to great effect here, especially combined with Owens spooky chant of “ice, while you sleep.” A cheeky round thumpy bassline drops in to seal the deal. It’s a dark but fun techno glide. I always keep a casual interest in track titles when they stand out on a particular project; here the exclamation point earns its place (shout out to Flying Lotus’s Los Angeles track 5). The air clears for ‘Re-Wild,’ as the lights drop and the tempo slows. A deep, gritty bassline forms the foundation for Owens to take center stage, a couple of sharp verse/choruses that snakes its way just behind the pulse-like beat.

Light begins to emerge again in ‘Jeanette.’ Analogue synths hum to life, dancing with themselves and the hands controlling them. There’s more of a performative aspect to the synth lines, arpeggios layering on top of each other but not drowning one another out. The noise selection here is again calling back to days gone with chirpy, textural highs against wide lows. These fade away for ‘L.I.N.E.,’ or “Love Is Not Enough.” Stretched orchestral swells move in like the tide, with equally pulled percussive elements riding the waves. Owens’s vocals once again dominate the mix, though this is the most pop-minded they’ve been, in this project or in her past work. The lyrics seem to mirror this new and potentially uncomfortable realm, with sentiments of holding back, compromising, and choosing whether or not to hide away. The unsure footing is there, but it works in this piece. 

Clouds descend from the heavens for ‘Corner of My Sky.’ Electro-organic drums dial in a simple cadence, and fellow Welsh multi-instrumentalist and Velvet Underground founding member John Cale enters the stage, an omnipresent being speaking over timelapse footage of the formation of the islands, the land, the grass, the heart, the soul, the rain. A piece of reverence to Wales, ‘Corner of My Sky’ blends spoken word, dance, ambiance, song, and emotion into a track that feels both deeply personal and meant to be shared with all those not from the “Land of Song.” From here we descend back into the dark as ‘Night’ picks up where ‘L.I.N.E.’ left off with moody undertones and deep bass tones. Owens taps into her vocal treatments from projects past, eliciting ethereal goosebumping as she chants “It feels so good to be alone” til the instrumentation bubbles over into a stripped back techno beat. It’s quiet primetime, accessible at high volumes in a club atmosphere or at a quiet outdoor so(lo)cial distance listening event. 

In the journey thus far, ‘Flow’ feels like the beginning of the ending. Organic and synthetic percussion come together to form a rich, textured atmosphere, like a small room with one wall missing that opens up to a wild, damp jungle. Exploration within the piece follows a similar feeling, tentative-toe-in-the-water style. It’s a place of calm, less to attach to but plenty to reflect on. ‘Wake-Up’ solidifies the end, a hopeful anthem that encompasses what Owens has been able to capture with this project—the looking back while moving forward. Soft instrumentation and light vocals lead onwards until a wash of orchestral pads sweeps the listener off their feet, rising up and up till there’s no ground to fall back to. 

Though delays are not usually welcome, Inner Song has come at just the right time this year. Owens’s fresh approach (purportedly at a  suggestion from Kieran Hebden) of less vocal distortion and more attention to lyrical storytelling has paid off in full on this project. It marks a wonderful combination of soft techno, hard beats, deep exploration, and intimate expression. For me, it’s welcome and needed. 🍍