A dream remnant lingered when I woke this morning, though the encroachment of consciousness wiped it away as if an errant raindrop on the windshield of my mind. Whether deemed a fragment, shard or sliver, the dream—as best I remember it, at any rate—wasn’t sharp or exact but, instead, impressionistic, an emotion, a gauzy patchwork quilt of comfort and contentment. Similar, in a way, to the feeling that Laura Elizabeth Hughes’ voice spurs. There’s an innate warmth in her vocal arcs, whether bending high or dipping low. The same holds true with the handful of spoken-word pieces that accent Knots and Echoes, her first album. Her lilted rhythms start slow and gradually grow into a tree that grazes the sky.
Hughes, for those not familiar with her, is an Irish singer-songwriter who began sharing her talent on YouTube circa 2008, when she was a teenager; her discography is slim yet weighty, filled with songs and EPs that ricochet beyond their confines. (I discovered her back in my Twitter days, when fellow Irish songstress Emma Langford mentioned her.)
“Intro (Brother)” ponders contentment, which—aside from dreams—seems an elusive and mythical beast for many of us. The soliloquy flirts with song, which flowers in full with “Casual,” which finds her longing for—as I put it when I spotlighted it in July—“the carefree summers of youth,” before self-doubts consumed us. “2am” is mostly a spoken-word piece accented by piano, guitars and harmonies, revealing the anxiousness that pockmarks her brain once she turns off the lights: “It’s 2am and the silence of the night lets what’s sitting in your mind come to the fore.”
“Swear to God” bridges the anxiety with love, at least for the moment, aware that the peace may be fleeting: “I see first light in an alcove/and I’m not feeling so low, love/For the first time in a long while/I’m just worried it won’t last.” The potent “No Man’s Land,” which follows, paints the portrait of a wounded individual afraid to relinquish the fear and anger he’s long used as defense mechanisms—at least, that’s how I read it. The delicate “July,” on the other hand, pairs insightful lyrics to an engaging melody, while sharing an insight most every young person in difficult circumstances needs to hear: “You are growing to the person you could have used when you were small.”
“The Fires” smolders with tension, with wisps of smoke weaving throughout the melody and the lyrics sharing a relationship saga. It’s a cool production that fades into a brief monologue by song’s end. “Another Side of Conversation,” another early single, is a wondrous ode to losing one’s self in the arms of another. The 31-minute set ends on another evocative note with “Echoes,” which shares a stark observation that could well be directed at herself: “You’re shedding shadows everywhere/What are you hiding for?”
The mix of spoken word and song is a delicate dance that requires much attention not just to the rhythm of the syllables, but the words—and meanings therein. Hughes pulls it off with aplomb, no doubt due to her love of literature and poetry (off the public stage, she’s pursued a career in the library sciences). Knots and Echoes is arty and compelling, the kind of album that demands a second listen when it ends.
The Old Grey Cat 
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