Sue Rynhart: Say Pluto

Traditionalist or avant-garde provocateur? Singer or poet? Dubliner Sue Rynhart is all these things and more, and therein lies her appeal. Her debut, Crossings (Songs For Voice And Double Bass) (Self Produced, 2015), an alluring duo recording with Dan Bodwell, earned Rynhart broad critical acclaim for its hybrid folk, indie pop, spoken word and jazz/improvised spirit. Signals (Mrsuesue Records, 2017) added new textures to similar ingredients, with mbira, recorders, zither and Francesco Turrisi's lute and frame drum ornamenting Rynhart's strikingly visual lyrics. Rynhart's keenly-awaited third album takes her in a new direction, with her long-standing duo with Bodwell augmented by pianist Huw Warren.

As a musician, arranger and producer, Warren has long moved seamlessly between jazz, folk, choral music and Welsh hymns, with Quercus—the trio with June Tabor and Iain Ballamy—being perhaps his most high-profile vehicle. Since the '90s his jazz collaborations have been numerous, but projects with Billy Bragg, Elvis Costello, Joanna McGregor and Echobelly, and with choreographers and visual artists too, point to an open-mindedness that makes him a perfect fit for Rynhart's maverick vision.

The seeds for Say Pluto were planted during Rynhart's artistic residency in the Centre Culturel Irlandais in Paris, in 2023, where she immersed herself in Gothic short stories by Edgar Allan Poe, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Sherida Le Fanu and Charles Dickens. Little wonder then, that themes of haunting, sorcery, nature and the divide between the living and spiritual realms pervade these songs.

Then again, a touch of the Gothic has always colored Rynhart's music, with the bright red fox, the little sparrow, bones washed up on shore and fog clouding the wine-dark sea all portents of danger, mystery and the unknowable. Still, it is not easy to pin down music that can also be ethereal, sensuous, seriously grooving and delightfully, quirkily abstract. The songs on Say Pluto, however, are more uniformly lyrical than on Rynhart's previous two albums, more haunting too.

Six originals are bookended by spare renditions of traditional folk songs "Lowlands" and "Long Years Ago," songs bound by their themes of loss and separation. Rynhart is blessed with a beautiful voice, but it is her delivery wherein lies her magic—the weighting of words, the deft phrasing and her coloring that bring beautifully sculpted lyrics to life. You could imagine her doing a whole album of traditional songs, but doubtless it would still be full of the sound of surprise.

Warren and Bodwell are exemplary accompanists: the pianist embroiders Rynhart's every move, and, when the moments arise, as on the folksy songs "Elm" and "A River," he unfurls sparkling improvisations. Bodwell deals in wicked ostinatos and riffing arco, otherwise inhabiting the spaces with a wealth of gently infectious pulses.

Rynhart, who also plays acoustic guitar on several songs, conjures some wonderful images. On "Educate," "swinging from an anchor like a ballroom chandelier;" on the Poe-esque "Cat" she intones, "nine lives fluffy ball of spook." Beyond the memorable imagery and wordsmithery, she relates tales of loss and of hope, muses on the ephemeral and on the eternal, and praises the wonder of nature and the duty to nurture. A richly woven Gothic-folk tapestry that enchants and uplifts.

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