You would not expect something ordinary from an artist who, when you are first introducing them, have to be prefaced with the words French British chanteuse, multi-instrumentalist, and composer before arriving at the name Clementine March. Furthermore, upon learning that the writing of this third long player was partly inspired whilst touring with the alt-folk maverick Naima Bock and that names like Alabaster DePlume, MF Tomlinson, Katy J Pearson, and Naima herself are amongst the collaborators, you should not expect music that is anything less than beguiling. And whilst I have seen Clementine’s music described as chamber pop, I would argue she is an artist unwilling to conform to any genre-based restrictions and, if anything, this is far closer to the world of Art Rock. You can trace a clear lineage from King Crimson through to David Bowie and David Byrne right up to St Vincent; music that is committed to free expression, that will restlessly mix its palette in a quest for new colours, apply deep studio sonics that make for headphone listening audio candy but it retains, amongst the experimentation, a songwriters ear and love of a killer melody. That is the kind of record that Clementine March is presenting here, a dizzying melange of textures that rebounds impressively from song to song, springing surprises aplenty but somehow still succeeding in moulding a satisfying whole that connects from start to finish.

Taking all that into account, it may come as a surprise that the inspiration for the title track is credited to Paul & Linda McCartney’s 1971 ‘Ram’ album. However, this is not the act of quirky flexing that some might assume. There has been justifiably positive re-appraisal of the McCartney solo canon lately and certainly that album, with songs boasting a rousing finale like ‘Long Haired Lady,’ could not have direct inspiration pulled so effectively by just any old singer. Clementine shows remarkable eloquence in her deployment of orchestral pop tropes in what she calls a “ultimate breakup / moving on song” and the emphatic ensemble conclusion is surely work that Macca himself would be happily associated with. Still, I am jumping ahead slightly because ‘Powder Keg’ makes for a heavyweight centrepiece to the album, instead we begin with the dreamy violin and horns that usher in the lilting ‘After The Solstice.’ Of all the songs here, this is the one where the Naima Bock effect can be heard clearest. It is a spookily stimulating piece of music, the lyrics pondering the strange appearance of déjà vu impressions in the mind and how they can destabilise your sense of time and place. As it spins off into the clouds, the audio scene is already preparing the listener for a journey that could fly off in any direction.

‘Lixo Sentimental’ does just that, parachuting us into a world of shuffling Brazilian pop of which the writer says is an “affected parody of a sentimental song. I’m teasing myself for being too romantic for my own sake sometimes.” She sings the number in Portuguese and confesses it is a tribute to vocalist Rita Lee who she thinks “would have enjoyed it.” The grunge rockers that soundtracked March’s teenage years, like Pavement and Nirvana, would have found plenty of common ground to sink their teeth in with ‘Upheaval,’ a song that echoes their fuzzy guitar sounds finding strength in distortion as the singers’ voice morphs into a feline growl for the duration. One thing alt-rock did not tend to do is switch seamlessly out of DM stamping angst straight into its dancing shoes, but boy does this album slide its feet gracefully on the following ‘Fireworks.’ There is so much funk in this tune I checked the credits to make sure Nile Rodgers was not listed, he is not but the extra voice of Evelyn Gray does infuse the piece with an authentic dancefloor chemistry. After this the laid-back French sunshine felt in ‘Les Annes,’ which is pierced by the subtle use of a theremin sound, is a welcome interlude before the lush musical drama unfolds in the aforementioned ‘Powder Keg.’

Having hit some impressive peaks of both lyrical precision, mesmeric tonal changes and some undeniable rhythms, the remainder of the album is free to explore these newly formed galaxies further and deeper. ‘You Are Everywhere’ is a more haunting ballad that exhales alongside floating violins before we collide with the jerky, post-punk fireworks of ‘Symptomatique,’ which is another track where a free-flowing trumpet part lends the album a nice jazz referencing dimension. The tiredness expressed in ‘Honestly’ is cleverly performed by Clementine whose vocal sounds like she has just woken from a deep sleep. ‘Lucie’ is an effervescent number featuring spacey synths that, together with the top line, have strong echoes of Stereolab at their most inviting. ‘Les Temps Qu’il Faut Bien’ changes mood again, this time to elegant samba tempo before closer ‘The Power Of Your Dreams’ urges us to preserve our hopes as “each day that comes, there’s a song and it’s yours.” So finally, like all the best Art Rock collections, you are left at the end with a sensory overload having travelled across so many sonic phrases, touches and brush strokes aboard such a delightful song-based excursion that, all you want to do is go back to the beginning and start again. And that is just about as big a compliment that can be paid to any album ultimately.

Danny Neill Get yourself a physical copy of ‘Powder Keg’ via this link: https://clementinemarch.bandcamp.com/album/powder-keg