Album Review: To Let The Light In

To Let The Light In is the new album from Wellington-based harpist, composer and teacher Michelle Velvin. Velvin enjoys exploring the creation of art in new directions, and spreads that energy over an impressive host of collaborators and duos, through to chamber groups and orchestras, including having formed the Wellington Harp Orchestra. To Let The Light In is a colourful and eclectic collection of pieces, with Velvin’s compositional prowess amply on display.

The album begins with Running Water, featuring clicking and tapping strongly suggestive of raindrops pattering, and there’s a lively and lilting feel to this brightly cheerful piece. Descending arpeggios cascade like golden rivulets. The overall dynamic also ebbs and flows, exuberant one moment, a touch of reserve the next. There’s a more subdued beginning to On The Seashore, leading into a sweet pensiveness. A spacious air, treasured memories picked up and warmly examined, before being gently and fondly placed away again.

Sammy’s Rain Song is an ode to a beloved, a moment of joy captured artfully and presented with a flourish. Wishing For A Quiet Mind is a marked change of direction, a very different offering altogether. A well observed and portrayed overactive mind, the layers simultaneously at odds, and coalescing to make a unified yet chaotic whole. Simple but powerfully effective, a sharply plucked harp line carries the theme throughout. Next, flute greets the listener with a smokily slinky solo.

The Birds is a mournful lament, made all the more haunting by the harmony vocals, the harp and flute complement each other superbly, weaving dark beauty. A loose and carefree vocal line is soon joined by an a cappella accompaniment on Grace. A perfectly lazy, bluesy feel, the voices rich and strong, pure and resonant.

Flitting and flickering, Fireflies bounces with an infectious happiness. A deft double bass supports the driving pace. Another seemingly effortless vocal performance, with a solo voice heralding the song’s close. To Let The Light In has a stunning choral entry, lush and reverent. A lone drum solemnly keeps a sparse measure, joining the voices halfway through, but the gradual fade to silence is all vocals, and all skillfully composed and delivered. Still Life is peaceful and rolling, the feeling akin to a stroll through a forest, soothing and calm. The vocals float atop a billowy cloud of harp and double bass. Maple has a charmingly irreverent air, hand claps and maracas supporting the flute and layers of vocals. At the halfway point, the flute suddenly blossoms into a lovely harmony line, in contrast to its prior two-note interjections.

Michelle Velvin has created a clever and thoughtful album, unlike anything else you’re likely to hear any time soon.