John Parish & PJ Harvey Dance Hall At Louse Point - A Stunning Collaboration

This is a record so thrillingly sinister it leaves Paranormal Activity firmly in the shade. It was copied for me by my mate Walker, who has been mentioned before for his ability to introduce new music to me. At first I was a little unsure about Dance Hall At Louse Point, but once I had realised the importance of immersing myself in this deep and rather hectic record, it all made sense. This album is extremely challenging musically as well as intellectually; Parish is a genius at writing demanding and inventive music, and PJ Harvey's lyrical contribution stands up to meet it head on. I was lucky enough to witness a very rare gig by John Parish and PJ Harvey in Birmingham Town Hall early in 2009 in which their second collaboration, A Woman A Man Walked By, was the focus of their attention. However, they also revisited songs from Dance Hall At Louse Point with style - a magical night of cult entertainment.

PJ Harvey is somewhat of an enigma; a musical recluse and cult star, she has moved in the shadows during a stunning near twenty year career that started in 1992 with her debut record Dry. Her achievements since have been on her terms, which is why she is quite rightly one of the most respected female artists around today. Dance Hall At Louse Point is a major achievement in my eyes - a dazzling record that explores the unlocked rooms in music that most artists dare not dream of entering. The eerie Girl opens the record, falling seamlessly into Rope Bridge Crossing - a fantastic and curious wronged love song - a songwriting trait in which Harvey has become exceedingly proficient. City Of No Sun is a frenetic and intimidating thrasher with idyllic, serene moments, cutting mysteriously into the charming, acoustic That Was My Veil - one of the album highlights.

Urn With Dead Flowers In A Drained Pool is a mixed tempo, experimental collage with lots of Gothic imagery. Civil War Correspondent shows Parish's extraordinary ability to tinker with subordinate sounds to create an unusual sound-scape for Harvey to work with. Her vocals are, essentially, the key to the strength of the record, but could not assume their power without this highly cerebral music accompanying. Taut is an alarmingly intense, and in parts terrifying record of the likes I've never heard before. I have heard this particular track previously described as 'complete madness.' It is rather difficult to disagree. Harvey's vocal delivery is twisted and tortured, the guitar playing and percussion manic, and the production somewhat industrial. Overall a totally unique, if not bemusing piece of art school noise.

Un Cercle Autour Du Soleil (Circle Around The Sun) is a sombre ballad in which Harvey's purity filters through the vocal. Heela is reminiscent of something off Jeff Buckley's Grace, or at worst something by Floyd, and is interjected by a delightful passage of vocals by John Parish layering Harvey's falsetto. The only cover version on the album - a haunting and despairing Is That All There Is - kind of shakes the reality out of the Hollywood Blockbuster. Nobody but Harvey could deliver this with such morbid sincerity. Title track Dance Hall At Louse Point is a cheeky and brazen instrumental, whilst the final track Lost Fun Zone is an uncharacteristic boogie infused by Harvey's instruction: "Take me one more time."

This is by no means an easy record to get into. In similar fashion to Dr John's Gris Gris, it is challenging from the first note until the sound of the CD player ending. Even PJ Harvey's own record label condemned the album as "commercial suicide." However, I am a massive fan of the record - not just because these two artists showed the balls to do their thing with two fingers up at the capitalist machine - but because they have created something totally unique - their own niche so to speak. Dance Hall At Louse Point demonstrates artistic bravery, originality, and conviction, and I applaud PJ Harvey and John Parish for this fine achievement. I'd applaud you more if you had the balls to give it a chance. . . . . . . . . .