single 4 October
Kirkcudbright bad-boys Kasama. Back for a third outing with latest single DEEP WATER, and it’s a two-track curveball that veers away from their rockier post-oasis past. This one’s an acoustic free-for-all singalong… like some sparkly sonic gem, mined from a Marcus Mumford alternate reality - all banjo and big chorus - except that here the banjo’s a violin, a violin that alludes to the band’s Scottish folksy Celtic roots.
Just when every indie-band in the entire indie-band universe seem so desperate to game the streaming algorithms - by writing songs identical to every other indie-song on every other indie-playlist - here we find Kasama bucking the trend somewhat. Deep Water is so stripped back, compared to say, their track Holding Up The Sun, that it feels like we ought to find it a fig leaf for its bare faced folkiness. It’s quite refreshing to see a band strutting their individuality in this way.
The song’s driven by layered acoustic guitars, with just the lightest of electric harmonics painting up the canvas throughout. I can almost hear that guy from the Manchester Free Trade Hall taking back his cry of Judas! Yet this sparseness of instrumentation serves a purpose; highlighting our sense of vulnerability in difficult times, a sense of our being adrift in deep waters. Lyrically we’re being told about hope, about believing that everything’s going to work out, that we’re all in this together and that we’ll all get through it together.
An almost martial drum-beat intro signposts our seemingly inexorable path into mayhem and confusion - the deep water’s not too far away, and we’re being sucked straight into it. Sparseness of instrumentation aside, the sound stays rich, full, and moody. Two vocals, harmonising with one another, intertwining, even sharing the lead. And then, just short of two minutes in, it hits some fantastical musical equilibrium with a sweet major lift - and all our previously repressed hopes are shining like a metaphorical rainbow. A sense of hope at last, as those Celtic influences take hold, a reel, a jig, a violin, handclaps!
And that violin? It’s a gossamer glove, guiding us through a moody film-set, camera soaring over southern uplands, scotch mist soothing harsh realities. This is the highly talented Michelle McClure of Scottish band The Razorbills, and it’s plainly evident that traditional Scottish music underpins the songwriting on display here.