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Mike Butler, Manchester Evening News Jan 2011
22 Jan 2011

From the title on, everything about this album proclaims a sharp intelligence. Singer/songwriter Gillespie hangs with jazz musicians, but isn’t quite jazz. Her major characteristic is an agitated energy that finds expression in a voice that is
alternately blistering and beautiful. It can turn from smouldering croak to snarl without warning, just as her lyrics see-saw between matterof-fact observation and uneasy ambiguity. Atzmon earns his name on the credits by finding a musical counterpart to the mercurial mood swings, locating the Irish tinge in Lucifer’s High Chair or
providing keening, lamenting saxophone to How The WestWas Won, or imagining an electro Kurt Weill for Cinematic
Nectar. Gillespie herself has some of the eccentric soulfulness of a Victoria Williams, mixed with the passionate edginess of a PJ Harvey. An album of infinite richness, Climate proves that idiosyncrasy isn’t dead yet.

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