Daily Mirror (Northern Ireland)
DOFFING A CAP TO JACK
Nothing is straight forward with Hannah Peel. Born in Craigavon and currently based in Bangor – yet a subtle drawl reveals she’s spent the majority of her life in Yorkshire.
Her music is complex and ambitious – yet Hannah’s most streamed track on Spotify is a version of ‘Tainted Love’ that’s literally just her and a tiny music box. Her creations are often obscure or challenging – but last summer she helped get an album to number one, providing score and strings on her latest collaboration with – of all people – Paul Weller.
You’ll hear her regularly on Radio 3 – playing Night Tracks to take listeners on trippy musical journeys – but she also had a series on Radio Ulster on which she plays everything from Wings to Chic. And I always forget – she’s created soundtracks for numerous TV shows (including Game of Thrones and Lisa Mc Gees The Deceived), nabbing a Emmy nomination along the way. In short – Hannah Peel is a tad unpredictable. While ignoring preconceptions and potential boundaries the one consistent is magnificence.
Across seven tracks on her brand new album Fir Wave, she pays tribute to a composer-musician named Delia Derbyshire and the Radiophonic Workshop she worked out of in the 1960s and 70s.
To help with this, Hannah was granted access to some of Derbyshire’s source material – a genuine honour and testament to her status as a similar trailblazer. The result is futuristic sounds from the past, reimagined and warped into something distinctly retro yet undeniably ultra-modern. If that makes sense.
Happily, there’s a whole world of this stuff to dive into.
As I said – nothing is straight forward.
The album’s heartbeat is the jawdropping ‘Emergence in Nature’. It begins with barely organised chaos – random bleeps and bloops – like an old arcade machine malfunctioning. From the electro-mayhem emerges a gentle quiet before sparkling synth stabs bring light, optimism and dance. Without the need for a single lyric – it’s the last year of our lives summed up perfectly. In less than four and a half minutes.
After all, Hannah doesn’t need lyrics to tell the story. On ‘Carbon Cycle’ there’s exhaustion and hope, while ‘Patterned Formation’ eases us towards outer space. Elsewhere, there’s marching, wonky beats, synthetic human cries and as much depth and reflection as you’d find in many a poet’s anthology.
It’s not for everyone, clearly. Those who like to get lost in music, who wish to indulge themselves and draw their own conclusions on the meaning of a piece of art – will love it. Anyone looking a quick hit, however – may not. But there is treasure here for us all, buried within, all the more rewarding when you dig it up.
Happily, there’s a whole world of this stuff to dive into. Four ‘proper’ albums to date – one of which features poet Will Burns. A seperate album of collaborations with Irish artistes. Then all the soundtrack stuff – and a load of beautifully curated radio shows. An astonishing body of work for one so young. That’s the best thing about having no rules – you can do whatever you want, adventure wherever and whenever you please. And for Hannah, it’s not just the world which is worth exploring – it’s the entire universe.
nostalgia, of which there is plenty. Jack’s fractious relationship with his brother Bobby is touched upon – as is his rapport with the Irish and English media. Crucially, it’s hinted that Jack could be a difficult character – Andy Townsend and David O’leary in particular are given an opportunity to point this out – though it only adds to this mystique. Reflecting on the Irish football team’s adventures in
West Germany, Italy and the USA, the likes of Roddy Doyle, Brendan O’carroll and Larry Mullen all put forward convincing theories Jack Charlton helped pull an entire country out of a social and financial rut. Sadly, it’s the insight into Jack’s last few months before his death last year which deliver the real poignancy. It was heartbreaking to see him struggle with dementia, unable to recall his many moments of glory, his doting wife constantly by his side. At one point a confused Jack needs convincing he’s loved by the Irish, which is heartbreaking to see. Paul Mcgrath also makes a wonderful contribution – sharing his own story of abandonment as a teenager and eventual struggles with alcoholism which – had it not been for Jack – could have ended his career. I was privileged to have been at Giants Stadium on June 18, 1994 and witness Mcgrath’s legendary performance – I can verify it was utterly bewildering. He was like a one man defence against some of the best strikers in the world. I’d never seen - and haven’t witnessed anything like it since. So it was nice to hear about that day, too. Powerful and genuinely unmissable whether you’re a fan of the ROI football team - or even a fan of football – is entirely irrelevant.