The six-track Clouds of Grief is accented by vibrant vocals, syncopated beats and melodies sweet and infectious. I’d say that the songs linger like a pleasant perfume in an empty room, but that infers they’re enclosed in a confined space. Perhaps the faint scent of flowers on the front sidewalk works better as a metaphor, as then the array of clouds overhead can be mentioned. It’s a late-autumn day set to song, in a way.
For those unfamiliar with Julie Kuhl, she’s a singer-songwriter who’s become a central player in Frankfurt’s jazz scene, though her music—to my ears, at least—has more in common with dream pop than bebop. Clouds of Grief is her third release, following the albums Flowers and Candles (2021) and Born With Nostalgic Bones (2022), both of which have much to offer. That she’s just 19 is astounding to me.
Anyway, the title track is a slice of jazzy pop that skirts the sky like billowy clouds, while Kuhl’s warm vocals glide just beneath the instruments. It’s an all-encompassing arrangement, with her voice fading into static as if on a distant radio station before returning with a burst of rapid-fire wordplay. “Floating” follows; the press release dubs it “space cadet soul,” which makes sense. It’s the sonic equivalent of a feathery cirrus cloud on a sun-soaked autumn day.
“Purple Eyelids” is another ethereal wonder, albeit one weighted by real world concerns; in the release, she notes that it’s “a song I wrote about a deep connection I felt with someone who was very close to me, and who was going through a rough time.” The jazzy “Convenient,” for its part, questions the validity of a relationship, while “Damage” delves into the rancor that arises when you see the other for who he or she really is. The closing “So much (I don’t dare to sing),” on the hand, is a delicate delight. As on the previous tracks, her vocals are cirrus-like one moment and cumulus the next.
In short, Clouds of Grief is an EP that will leave you wanting more. Kuhl’s a remarkable voice, while the music—written in tandem with Marvin Horsch on five songs and Lucid Liebe on one—is captivating throughout.
The Old Grey Cat 