Experimental Northern Irish duo Ex-Isles fuse warmly delivered and enigmatic prose poetry with wandering pastoral piano arrangements that draw you into their subtle politically and personally motivated universe on Domestic Sacraments.
It is an interesting premise; arranger Jamie Thompson prepares the words but they are delivered by vocalist Pete Devlin, who in true Frank Sinatra style takes them away, dwells on them and then returns, ready to fully inhabit the meandering sentiments. His warm, drifting baritone is reminiscent of Scott Walker but more welcoming, and there are some of the adventurous phrasing of David Sylvian, particularly on opener “Do We Call This Home?” The voice and piano follow one another, the tale unfolding as the duo entwine like two cats in a spot of sunlight.
There is a sense of restrained emotion, the smooth musical delivery belying the often difficult subject matter and frequently interjected by Leroy Richardson‘s surprising sax outbursts. They hint at jazz, but it is something less obvious; and the way Pete works the words around in his mouth with no effort to rhyme and with meter often ignored completely somehow affects the other players. “I shall like to stay and await his permission to slip the preservation of our tether together” gives some indication as to the lyrical machinations and there is plenty more to wallow in. There is a rhythm section at times, rarely stepping into the limelight except for the drum and bass-infused second half of “The Gnashing Ends” which starts out with a slow-motion electronic sunrise, its revolving drone giving an insistent creep to the tracks that bursts out halfway through.The most difficult observations are draped in warmth and made somehow more palatable, the modern classical piano diffusing the chameleonic talk of “vendors, shareholders and market volatility”. The mixture of the piano and the vibrato-led vocal blanket could render the most hostile observations manageable and perhaps this is the secret to their recipe. This is accessible to all, with the sharp edges only contained in the lyrics. The final line, “a dying hand held by the lowest bidder”, is smothered in spirals of dreamy melancholy, an almost M.O.R vibe wearing the faintest disguise, peeking out and drawing you ever closer.
With these nine beautifully presented musical observations, Ex-Isles want you to observe the world from their perspective but without alienating you. These are difficult truths but necessary, and as such are couched in these unusual dreamlike confections that worm further in with every listen. It has been four years since their last album but this set is well worth the weight and thoroughly recommended.
