DUCK LOVE
Every duck needs an elephant is one of the tracks of the Claire Welles brand new album Wife Machine (2010). When I read that title I was deeply fascinated by her creativity but I must admit that fascination grew to incredible limits when I listened to the whole album. And I wanted more and more while I was discovering a wonderful album, a piece of real creativity which makes all those apostles that believe nothing new is possible look ridiculous. Wife Machine is a total expansion of our senses.
The album starts with Milk teeth in which sounds a playful keyboard in an irresistible tune while Claire sings I don’t know what is happening to me. But I knew perfectly what was happening to me because my admiration for a composer from Liverpool who is able to create a whole world full of honesty in every note she sings. Quickly, a song in a Carl Perkins style prevents us from relaxing. It’s Bicycle Shed and makes our bodies dance to the end when Claire whispers Thank you!
A kind of anarchy arrives with Lost moments, a wonderful piece that take us to the best psychedelic sounds and the early works of Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention. A reiterative rhythm and a piano tune surround her voice in a trip that reminds us our own lost moments, getting finally lost in a sonorous chaos black hole. We arrive to Christmas lights with a sound really far from any brightness. Deep guitars, drums in echo and some moments in a waltz rhythm while she screams I don’t play the game. Neither do I.
Sea waves whisper Every duck needs an elephant which is deeply true. A minimalist and dashing instrumentation along with Claire’s voice whispering between ducks and elephants in order to undress our ridiculous ordinary life. She bangs the guitar strings in Walking home, a bittersweet chant because home, sweet home is an irreparable trap sometimes.
When an Alpine cow appears in that sonorous landscape her voice sounds in an ironic sweetness. Acoustics sounds in contrast with spoken tracks such as Delicate tension. It sounds like being in a crowded bar while she regrets to be in a pretty home place where anyone wants to see my face.
Wife machine is an instrumental piece, except for the last seconds, and it reminds the sound of a clean machine but it also is the title track of an album that represents a big proof of Claire Welles creativity, a mirror in which just a few people will want to look because its deep honesty. It’s a wonderful discovering for open-minded smiles.
Text by Juan Carlos Romero
Photos courtesy of Claire Welles