New Agnes Obel album today, her first in six years, and it’s sent me back to seeing her at the Barbican about 15 years ago, when I remember being completely drawn into how sparse and strange her music could feel while still somehow filling a room that size.
The Meaning of Flowers is built from piano, strings, her voice and all these small details that seem to appear around the edges, and I’ve only had a first listen so far, but it already feels like one of those records where the more interesting things will probably reveal themselves in due course. It’s very lovely.
The Predatory Wasp 