This is a first. An indie album making it high in the hallowed top ten that is not by my beloved Suede. This is also the first time in absolutely frickin ages where I have listened to a Mercury nominee and gone “Blimey that’s good”. Actually, it’s not just good, it’s wonderful. 

This is an ethereal and haunting album. It enchants with its ghostly whispers of melody, that slowly creep out of the speakers. Hazel Wilde’s vocals are divine. They linger in the air, enveloping the listener. Her sultry tones match the music. It is reserved and slight, measured and often aloof. Its indie but Indie refined and restrained. It is also beautiful and highly effective. Probably the most introverted album on this list, it is a record that I found myself dragged to, again and again. Maybe there actually is still room in my charred black metallic heart for eerie bewitchingness?