Hendra

Watt's voice may not be quite as preternaturally stunning as that of his partner, Tracey Thorn, but it's eloquent and expressive, and fits beautifully with these 10 unflinching, autumnal ruminations, character sketches, pastoral travelogues and reflections on loss. [No. 109, p.61]

Hendra might deal with life's compromises, but there's no disappointment here. [May 2014, p.92]

Ewan Pearson (who’s also produced Thorn’s recent solo works) adds a lovely, warm sheen to many of the songs, giving a classy final touch to an album that has more hidden depths than its MOR surface may suggest.

On the evidence of Hendra, instantly a nearly essential album in a decorated career, it’s a role that suits him.

The acoustic-leaning song-cycle Hendra presents mature reflections on memory and loss. [May 2014, p.120]

Hendra is an always beautiful, sometimes stunning album, if one that bears no trace of its creator's knack for house music.

The songs occupy their own modern spaces with a raging peacefulness.

These songs have all the pretty chords and decorum you'd expect from Watt, best known as one half (with his wife, Tracey Thorn) of Everything But the Girl.

There’s an aching pain that throbs throughout Hendra. But as the personal suffering that shapes the album is lamented, there is a clear cathartic quality to these songs.

There's an unmannered honesty to Watt's singing and lyrics.

His smooth but expressionless voice can be a little bland for a frontman (and is always improved by Thorn’s occasional harmonies) and his carefully considered lyrics have a tidiness that sometimes verges on the prosaic. Yet the gentle mesh of flowing melody, woven instrumentation and mood of hard-earned contemplation adds up to something quite profound.