Fisherman's Woman

She may have penned the Kylie hit 'Slow' and appeared on the 'Two Towers' soundtrack, but Emiliana Torrini isn't exactly a household name. And that's not just because it's damn near unpronouncable.

It probably has a lot more to do with her own quiet, reflective and stark style — exactly the type of music that flies beneath the radar, beyond the reach of public consciousness.

So her debut album, an electronica-flavoured affair with echoes of Portishead and Goldfrapp, received critical plaudits but sat gathering dust in bargain bins. And it's likely that 'Fisherman's Woman', released five years later, will do much the same thing.It's nothing short of a travesty.

Ditching the triphoppin' production wizardry of Roland Orzabal (the brains behind Tears for Fears) and the sex appeal of her first offering, Torrini's second album is a sparkling example of subtle folk songwriting and performance that's surprisingly mature for a 27-year old.

All strummed acoustic guitars, brushes stroking drums, light touches of piano and the ocassional glockenspiel (!) it’s the kind of soft, delicate album you’d expect from Joni Mitchell or Nick Drake.

Introspective lyrics delivered in a near whisper only add to the intimate, honest feel — as if Torrini is sitting on your couch with a guitar on her lap and a glass of red wine on the coffee table.

She takes a slow canter along the dusty 'Sunny Road', with its traces of Leonard Cohen, but for the most part the singer-songwriter keeps proceedings to a gentle tempo that matches the sparseness of the instrumentation. 'Honeymoon Child', with its sole dobro guitar, is a smokey dreamscape while the mysterious 'Lifesaver' floats along to an accordian.

The approach leaves Torrini's haunting voice, which bears a passing resemblance to Bjork sans shrieks and wails and demented warblings, starkly exposed. It's a risky move — musically there's not much to distinguish the individual songs and her vocals begin to grate by the time the choral sounds of the final track glide in.

Yet the biggest potential problem — that this collection of low-key ballads would turn into one long morose dirge — is deftly avoided. Sure, most of the songs deal with loss and sadness, but there's an underlying optimism to 'Fisherman's Woman', aided by the gentle melodies, that sidesteps the razorblade-to-the-wrist zone.

Just listen to opener 'Nothing Brings Me Down' with its lyrics of "Home alone and happy…Full of wine, unsteady…The phones are off, the music's on…" and you'll be convinced. Here's hoping Torrini doesn't remain the great unknown.