Jo Mango started out as
a Glaswegian folktronica quartet, only for the moniker to be
appropriated by the lead singer and primary songwriter in the group,
whose output has been sporadic to put it mildly. Transformuration
is the 3rd release from the multi-instrumentalist, many
moons since her debut recording, perhaps taking a leaf out of her
occasional collaborator Vashti Bunyan’s book that less is most
definitely more. Throw in further meetings of minds with well-known
experimentalists Devendra Banhart and David Byrne and it starts to
paint a picture of someone not afraid to take her time getting things
right on her own terms….either that or she likes to spend time
between albums taking trips to Vega.
Even so, this latest
release is essentially a collection of remixes taken from Jo’s 2012
work ‘Murmuration’, perhaps a stop gap until the next proper Jo
Mango release, or indeed perhaps not……this may be the version she
was originally striving for but didn’t know it at the time….anyway
only she knows for sure. To be honest, once you’ve listened to
these ten exquisite tracks, a perfect combination of haunting vocal,
fragile as eggshells yet ethereal to boot, sparse lo-fi folktronica
arrangements, creating beautifully sluggish dreamy soundscapes, you
will be dying to check out the originals too, however different they
sound.
‘Blue Dawn Light’
opens slowly with an eerie chime, interwoven with electronic
noodlings, setting the chill-out tone for the rest of the
songs….perhaps a combination of Kate Bush, Bjork, Laurie Anderson
and Boards of Canada forced through a Hadron Collider, creating
something truly otherworldly. ‘Ludwig’ sounds like the in-flight
material you will be played when space travel for the masses is
finally nailed. ‘Evermore’ ‘Cross Ties’ and ‘Every
Certainty’ continue in the same vein, still managing to be
sufficiently beguiling to persuade the listener to continue onwards
to the album’s highlight ‘The Freedom of Seamonsters’ as the
subject matter turns from outer to inner space. ‘Moth and Moon’
serves as a suitably skittish penultimate and ‘Cordelia’ finishes
things off in predictably surreal downbeat fashion. There are far
worse albums to come down to than this one.
Words - Mike Price
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