The moon holds a mystical place amongst us mere mortals. From werewolves, to the belief that A&E wards are at their busiest at the time of a full moon, life on Earth could very well owe its existence to our lunar sister, via tidal cycles and, of course, the variable and natural night light that animals rely on, humans less so since the advent of industrialisation…

 
For women in particular, and at the risk of sounding sexist (or something), the moon cycle has obvious parallels and possible connections, with the menstrual cycle, the deeply profound barometer of the possibility of creation. The debate amongst scientists, however, rages on, while many women insist, at least spiritually if not empirically, that the link is there, and sometimes rather strong…
 
Is this what Rachel Sermanni alludes to in titling her album Tied To The Moon, which features a line drawing of a naked female on the cover? This, her second studio album, is a loose collection of songs about the female experience, some personal, others character studies; songs of womanhood and childhood, archetypes, instinct and inhibition. It's raw, beautifully sung, and understated in its power.
 
Part of an ongoing rush of alternative singer songwriters (spearheaded by Laura Marling) the still very young (23) Sermanni is a gifted writer; prolific and idiosyncratic, her  previous works were full of jazz-folk chords, her untrained style usually all done on a single acoustic guitar. Tied To The Moon is a big step-change; for the first time we hear her on the electric guitar, and North American influences have seeped into her work. Perhaps influenced by the extended periods of time spent in Canada, which included a visit to the far northern, and former gold rush outpost, of Dawson City, where she recorded a live collection of sparse, folk-tinged songs. In fact the basis of the new album was apparently written in Nova Scotia, where she had nothing to distract her. In the same country, but a couple of thousand miles apart, but both places seemingly a million miles from nowhere such is the vast sparseness of the second biggest country in the world…  
 
Opening track Run features a Rachel Sermanni out of her usual comfort zone, as she strums the electric, Aimee Mann style, a one chord song throughout barring a couple of short choruses, some menacing organ providing texture and depth to the dark atmospherics, her vocal somewhat back in the mix, but as usual subtly expressive: "I have made a mess I know, there is nothing you can do… truth is the wind will blow and there is nothing we can do/It's blowing me away from here and away from you." There is also a more angsty, if not particularly angry (vocally, she doesn't do angry, just subtly smouldering) Sermanni on Wine Sweet Wine, which features a vaguely country beat. 'I cannot sit on the shelf while you go and play with someone else', as she bemoans a wayward lover, big piano chords (you can even hear the foot pedals) to the fore. And the retro sounds continue with the beginning couplet of I've Got A Girl, the vocal processed like an old recording. Here, the raw and slow waltz-time is allied to a menacing and distorted electric guitar, bass and drums. And then there's the relatively upbeat and poppy Tractor, resplendent with some feedback guitar work, quite possibly the most surprising noise that Sermanni has ever made. I haven't heard controlled feedback as viscerally good since Thin White Rope made a virtue of it circa the Moonhead album of the late 80s. Now that I think of it, Moon again… Moreover, lyrically she has knack for great lines: 'If you choose to paint your own truth/But the colour won't stay, it will fade away.
 
Elsewhere, Sermanni reverts back to her more folkier, acoustic roots such as on the surreal Ferryman, and the deceptively simple Don't Fade, again high on atmospherics, a song that goes round and round as it mixes the mythological with the earthly: 'You have been burning, I've been melting into words, watching from the eyes of birds'. And then there's the extraordinary Old Ladies Lament, devised like a nursery style rhyme from the viewpoint of old lady, that is a conversation between grandmother and grand daughter ('I would do it all again, I'd have my heart be broken, just to touch a loved ones skin. I hear the kettle whistling'). And the warm country flavours of lovers song Banks are Broken brings in a male perspective, via Colin MacLeod (who also produces this album) who takes over the second half of the song. Special mention must go to MacLeod and the other musicians here; the recordings is mostly 'live', and the players excel at providing the right amounts of texture and dynamics when required.
 
Set closer This Love is full of the optimism and hopefulness of life, as Sermanni lists many of things she loves and has loved, but delivered in a faintly haunting manner. Sugar and spice, and all things nice, that's what Sermanni is made of…
Jeff Hemmings