Amanda Whiting: Lost In Abstraction

Ahh, the angelic harp, a symbol of celestial beings, Biblical healing, Irish identity and a rubbish lager. In jazz terms we think of the instrument in relation to Casper Reardon, Dorothy Ashby, Alice Coltrane and more recently Deborah Henson-Conant. A noble list of names if not exactly boundless. The harp is, after all, much less portable than a sax or trumpet, not to mention a good deal quieter. Then consider that odd grasping motion of playing, that strange conjuration of noise. And all those strings to tune up.

Now comes Welsh musician Amanda Whiting with her second album, Lost In Abstraction. Despite being classically trained, she was nominated for British radio station Jazz FM's 2021 Instrumentalist Of The Year. The harp often lends music an antique quality, though in Whiting's hands the effect is way more modern. Her playing has a genuine liquidity, but it is far from being an unbroken wave of sound. Whiting takes a spacious approach, allowing us room to breathe amid the glissandos and ripples. Throw in a fine quartet of supporting musicians and Whiting's ideas turn regal and spiritual. Lost In Abstraction is a deep album of mythic messaging and minimalist cool.

The nimble intro of "Abstraction" is soon fleshed out with cymbal whooshes and bass thumps. Notice already how Whiting uses variations on jazz scales to distinguish her work from a more folk-based template. "Lost" brings in Chip Wickham on saxophone over some vibrant percussion and Whiting's melodic phrasing. "Venus Fly Trap" then strikes up a playful conversation between flute and harp, all moody and mellow. "Temptation" is another honeyed piece, where Whiting offers a range of plucking techniques, and the woodwind blows breezily.

David's harp famously soothed King Saul's depression and Whiting's music could likely dissipate any stressful atmosphere too. But nor is it vaporous or illusory stuff. This is less about sheets of sound from string sweeps and more to do with no-frills refrains.

"Too Much" allows the bass and drums a free hit, as Whiting's harp floats here and flirts there, even imitating a guitar solo. "Up There" could also be a work for six strings instead of a few dozen, such is the economy of style. Close your eyes here for a moment and imagine Wes Montgomery at the wheel.

"Where Would We Be" combines purity and intensity, while the solo number "Discarded" finds a musical-box sense of mystery. "Suspended" glides smoothly, before the closing cut "Got It?" rumbles on a restless groove, with sudden showers of harp begging their own questions. Whiting hardly needs to ask us though, not when her music is so profound. Yep, we got it.