The Queen of Hearts

Spending time with this dreamscape of a collection--and it's definitely worth spending time with--unveils themes of masculinity and, especially, femininity, all the quiet dangers associated with womanhood, whether it's "Flash Company" or the complex dynamic between rapist and pregnant victim in "Bonnie May."

There is something shimmering, cold, and tender in these songs. There are also moments of rock vigor that are the flip side to folk’s gentleness (never gentility).

Meloy, his fellow Decemberists, and Chaney spend this album looking backward unapologetically (for an artist wrestling with the challenge of moving the Childe ballads forward into the 21st century, look to The Crane Wife); this overt tribute to that deep affection is a worthy companion that both fits into the Decemberist’s oeuvre and transcends it.

Everything works, though, loudly and proudly.

Echoes of Fairport, Span, Thompson et al abound, but Offa Rex has its own compelling identity, and should win Chaney an international name.

While it may not bring anything too new to the table, it still makes for a delicious spread.

Subtlety is practically extinct. As a result, The Queen of Hearts demands a patient listen and a willing ear. Happily, this clear appreciation for folk nobility reaps its rewards.

They raise a lively ruckus, but never venture far from the sounds pioneered by groups like Steeleye Span and The Albion Band. [Aug 2017, p.35]