Music / Reviews
Review: Hedera, St Anne’s Church – ‘Dreamy, stately and baroque’
What a joy. What a joy to be invited into this incredible, inclusive space. What a joy to see a community, fully formed, chatting and hugging, hugging and chatting.
What a joy to be immersed into the glorious sound-world that Hedera create.
Hedera formed over lock-down, connecting via social-distanced bonfires, embarking on what they called Moon Jams.
is needed now More than ever
They were supposed to be collaborative, occasional (cyclical?) celebrations of friendship and togetherness but became something else, something more tangible – five female musicians from different bands playing slow motion, feather delicate European folk music.
You could, I suppose, call them a super-group except that brings to mind the self-indulgent stroking of male egos.
There’s certainly a hushed sense of anticipation at St Anne’s Church. For a band that have barely released any music, and don’t have a tote bag, t-shirt or tea towel for sale, Hedera have packed this church.
Last year’s gig at The Greenbank sold out with ease and their debut tour (of which this show is a part) is selling out all over the place.
Once all five have assembled on stage, they start slowly, gently pushing at the edges of Zeytuni Zar, an instrumental piece by Armenian composer Arto Tuncboyaciyan.
The harp of Solana’s Tamsin Elliott carries with it the most soothing of Eastern European tinkling breezes, almost sleepy, rousing itself on one elbow as a clarinet, double bass and two violins circle around it.
It’s the sound of a sleepwalker’s wedding, impossibly romantic, layered with silk. Five friends intuitively, sweep around one another, restrained and measured.
Both Isis Wolf-Light and Lulu Ruby Rose can usually be found in Balkan wonders (and Bristol favourites) Opa Rosa but here they rein in their exuberance to help produce something exquisite.
Dear Irish Boy/Mayflies in June is a shimmering haze of late evening dust motes, the violins flitting lazily while Wolf-Light’s bass clarinet drones a fat bumble bee-buzz across a European sound-bath. Astrakan Cafe is Tunisian and is music to simply sink into.
Ruby Rose’s violin and the double bass of Beth Roberts (Hands of the Heron) glide around one another before joining hands with the low shoulder shimmy of Wolf-Light’s clarinet. As the last blankets of an ancient bazaar are swept up so the violin fades into the night.
Much of Hedera’s set explores the various aspects of European folk music but on Salamander, they employ an Ethiopian scale. It is snake sinuous, a sandy soundtrack.
The violins whisk up a sandstorm as the harp patters restlessly, double bass and clarinet throbbing around it, the music of the spheres leisurely spinning through an inky night.
Later a piece inspired by a Gamelan orchestra, translated as Flower of the Universe, pushes through the earth like a time lapse bloom. Violins unfurl through Elliot’s prepared harp until all five musicians explode in a muted, multi coloured explosion. Finally, a gong sounds, ending the meditation.
Maisie Brett is an ecologist as well as a violinist and a connection with nature flows through Hedera’s music. Their debut release, Waterwheel, is the sound of moss creeping across weathered wood, it is minimal and intricate.
A Breton dance is deconstructed and its bones artfully arranged as violin, clarinet and bass drones are finally washed away by Elliot’s accordion. Brett also leads Shen Khar, the only song of the evening and one learnt with Bristol’s Georgian choir.
It is a bright glow of a song, each instrument twisting as a vineyard, reaching towards the sun; there are no sudden movements, nothing harsh, only warmth.
Suddenly the music falls away, to be replaced by five voices, acapella and hymn-like. A natural, sympathetic blending that fits perfectly. As the song ends, a sigh goes around the room. It’s not a release of tension, more an expression of deep satisfaction.
Tonight, Hedera make music that is impossibly dreamy, stately and baroque. It is incredibly full and delightfully warm. Those sitting in St Anne’s pews drink in every note, celebrate every tune, love every moment.
This sedate adventuring around the world brings just one word to mind. Joy. Complete and total joy.
Main photo: Gavin McNamara
Read next:
Our top newsletters emailed directly to you
