Review: Jo Quail ‘Notan’

If ever there were an artist who defines modern cello playing in the 21st century, an artist who not only plays, but innovates, reinvents, and pushes the medium forward, then it’s Jo Quail.

Over the course of the last five years, I have had the pleasure of watching her perform several times, spending a little time with her, and listening to each new venture with an open mind and an open heart, and with each interaction, it has always been so mesmerising

Jo is one of the most humble, understated, and interesting performers I’ve ever had the opportunity to see performing live, both on her own and with heavyweights Mono. What she brings to the table is so intoxicating that it elevates any project from merely a sonnet to an absolute experience.

Here, on her new album Notan, Jo seems to have stepped back into a more solitary role once more, and whereas on the last release, The Cartographer had additional musicians such as Grave Lines’ Jake Harding providing vocal passages, and a whole array of extra input throughout, this time the main focus seems to be a more solitary journey.

Over the course of the six pieces, we are transported once again into another realm, where the cello storytelling takes centre stage. For me personally, it is another step into a world of dreamscape fantasies and imposing nightmarish interludes, which will have your imagination running amuck, trying to piece together some form of sensical storyline in your head.

That’s the thing with her music, it is so much more than merely ‘cello playing’, these sonnets take you away, and if you let them, they will open your mind, body, and soul. They will imprint visions that will only be unlocked by immersing yourself in the compositions, but the rewards will be so richly deserved. Notan is, in itself, a beautifully intoxicating display, a richly oppressive opera at times, yet with a sense of whimsy and passion thrown in for good measure.

What I love about hearing Jo‘s playing is having witnessed what an impassioned performance she gives live, it’s almost as if you can see the pieces being played out as they run through, such is the clarity of the sound recording, and the thought given to knowing how to make the elements work at any given moment for maximum impact.

Right from the opening bars of Butterfly Dance, the slow, gradual strokes with the bow across the strings is so fraught with tension, it’s as if you can feel the reluctance to quicken the pace, even though your body desires it. The moody and mysterious introduction evolves into a pulsing meditative ambience, and when it has flourishes of soaring highs, it feels like a tide washing in before serenely heading back out again. It all comes in waves, and each stroke is like a jolt to the system, and by its climax, it is electrifying.

if you dare to submerge yourself into its beauty, you too will be rewarded…

Rex commences with a brooding, uncomfortable start and leaves the listener with a sense of film noir, as it would be right at home in an old, retro black and white French film. Somewhat like a love story, the sonnet is filled with deep emotion and long unrequited lulls due to the perfectly paced dynamic, and as the piece plays through, it is dark and mournful.

Track three, A Leaf, And Then A Key, is very much a stripped-back affair, eloquently morose, and yet at times, quite vibrant. It is a long-drawn-out, sorrowful feeling that makes for a sombre yet emotional awakening.

Up next is my highlight of the entire album, Embrace, an eight-and-a-half-minute masterclass in tone and texture. As I close my eyes while it plays through, I envisage a solitary dancer, swaying in the darkness, passionately throwing themselves from pillar to post with a blatant disregard for their own safety. There’s a primal flow to the piece, an air of weightlessness, and if you dare to submerge yourself into its beauty, you too will be rewarded.

First Rain marks a departure from Jo’s longstanding cello-driven work, as the piano takes centre stage. There is a pensive shift in tone, and with its sombre feel, it evokes the beginning of a rainstorm, that moment when the sky finally opens and the rain comes cascading down.

Kingfisher closes the opus, and it leaves us with a livelier finale. The sound gently soars, as if it’s in-flight, soaring, exploring, freely adventuring around. It’s a wonderful sign-off to the album and leaves no doubt as to just what an absolute auteur Jo Quailreally is. Each sound is carefully considered, placed, and delivered to us, the audience, to interpret as we see fit. For me, I envisage it one way, but I’m sure you will take something completely different from the whole experience.

Coming away from Notan, I’m left feeling that with each new release, Jo gets stronger in her own fantastic realm. The evolution is apparent across her entire body of work, and this is the latest evolution onto a plane that is uniquely her own. I, for one, am so humbled by knowing her work, and it fills me with such joy every time a new project becomes something that we can all share in.

There is only one Jo Quail, an enduring, world class cellist who innovates, evolves, and pushes forward the art in a way that is unparalleled. A shining star, thoroughly deserving of all the praise she gets, one in a million.

Label: Adderstone Records
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram

Scribed by: Lee Beamish