Kittow’s Moor

Kittow’s Moor is an album full of warmth, pastoral beauty and raw passion, played with effortless skill by a band of consummate musicians, so obviously attuned to Louis’s artistic vision – among them a dairy farmer and a tin whistler who runs a fairground waltzer ride – that the glorious sound they make feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Think Hardy-esque harvest hoe-down on a Saturday night with the moon shining bright and the cider flowing; think of love lost and won with the briny taste of the sea on your lips; think of the adrenalin rush of a fairground ride and you’re there… in fact, wherever he takes you, Louis captures the essence of a scenario in a heartbeat with lyrics that evoke wistful nostalgia for good times past:

To the broken tune of an ice-cream van, I wrote a song for you on the back of my hand, if you follow me we can jump the lights of a seaside town on a Saturday night…

the unyielding forces of nature:

Feel the waves rising up to drag you under, see the clouds rolling with the sound of thunder, light a beacon and let it burn…

and pure elation at being alive:

The giddy rush of the jump and ride, when your heart was in the air, but that’s got nothing on the way it made me feel when I saw her at the fair…

You can hang around at the water’s edge but if you want to fly you’ve got to jump from the ledge…

Musically, Kittow’s Moor pulses with energy and warmth. The Embers glow red hot and threaten to burn the barn roof off, sounding like an itinerant gang of field hands, fishermen, vagabonds and the ghost of Eddie Cochran wandering west along a country road, in search of the spirit of Albion punk and determined to have a damned good time whilst they’re about it. Accordions, banjos, tin whistles and mandolins cook up a joyous rural clamour to lift your heart and send you out into the night with a smile on your face.

Louis Eliot & the Embers, timeless and magical, as English as the landscape, as fresh as a spring afternoon… …Brit-Pop indeed.