Her music and lyrics are fluid elements that have continued to beguile and soothe since she debuted her acclaimed and Mercury Prize nominated album Fur and Gold almost two decades ago. As a songwriter she’s created narrative roles and characters throughout her career, such as Pearl on her first two albums especially, that have allowed her to embrace emotions and scenarios in which she was reticent to place herself. The Dream Of Delphi, her sixth Bat For Lashes album, purports to reveal Khan at her most vulnerable and raw like never before.
The lead single, title track, and album opener “The Dream Of Delphi” has been getting the most attention almost by default up to this point. It’s a deft, billowing expanse of a song that drops subtle glitches and beats broken up by brassy-sounding synths. The expansive sound, opening out into bucolic birdsong and cooing baby noises, showcases Khan’s musical ability and production in harmony. We’re also one song in and the character of Motherwitch, Khan’s protective parental armour is on the scene.
It’s worth saying that this album showcases motherhood, and more pointedly, Khan’s daughter is the inspiration. From conception, birth, and growth we follow Delphi and Khan’s effort to adapt, cope, and enjoy unfolds within its vignettes. These are songs, poems, some sung, some instrumental, some so light they’re barely there at all.
“Christmas Day” mixes metaphors of her child being her gift
before overthinking her life away in the blink of an eye. “Letter to My
Daughter” is a softly spun song of haphazard parping synth notes over
which Khan bewitches with words of love. “At Your Feet” is a waltzing
piano-led lullaby, accompanied by a mournful looming cello and a chorus
of voices like overseeing angels.
As a conceit mapping out key moments of life on an album
isn’t a fresh idea. It is new to Khan though so we’re presented with
blinked snapshots from conception, newborn baby and early motherhood
that try desperately to capture that unique love and explain the
humanity and frail mortality on both sides. She’s always been so robust
at examining female archetypes and exploring them richly within her
music so whilst grabbing snatched moments of peace or time to work she’s
crafted an album that does this again on a personal level.
The mesh of instrumentation on offer, pianos, flutes, and
harps all blending with organs and synths produce a mix of organic
ambiance that drift between sparse, droning atmospherics “The MIdwives
Have Left” and fuller, resonant songs. The jazzy mournful interlude of
“Breaking Up” outlining her breakup with her daughters' father is
wordless and a filler, as is the also slight “Delphi Dancing” and “Her
First Morning”. The album’s tracking loses focus somewhat after the
halfway point. Much like a parent whose only conversation is around
their child's personality quirks, or who shares endless, but very
similar, photos, it feels like we’re in a headspace that’s slightly
dulled to objectivity. “Home” and “Waking Up” buck the trend a little
with brighter, more effervescent activity, but these revert to
vocalising and sparse calm in due course.
A reprise of the title track with added orchestration and
extended strings only serves as a reminder of how lushly the album began
and highlights what’s been missing in the latter half. Khan as the
producer can appear less critical than the songwriter and while the
whole album possesses an innate beauty some material is very spartan and
has you craving more actual songs. The very private intonations or
moments that interest her don’t necessarily translate or engage an
audience in the same way. We have far less invested in the subject
matter than her and ultimately that begins to show in an otherwise
wide-eyed creative rejuvenation.
