We are lost in a reverb-swathed hall, bathing in smooth harmonies and breathing in the booming glide of delicate cello, the crash of dynamic percussion and the re-assuring familiarity of structure-supporting guitar. The arrangements are big and lush but at the same time simple and stripped-back, the vocal performances technically capable and yet deliciously raw. The melodies soar with the varying textures, as tracks like ‘Wild Woman’ taking us to the explorative heights of what is possible using a cello, guitar and percussion, Martin Earley’s confidence growing with every swelling utterance. But almost as instantly as we rose, we drop into a dark sea of sinister electric guitar rumbling on ‘Oars To The Sea’, all three powerful voices joining in unison, the emptiness of their surroundings the most apparent instrument all the while building to as passionate a crescendo as I’ve heard anywhere.
This is The Ballroom Thieves, a hard-to-define trio of musicians who together make some incredible music. It all comes to rest on their latest album ‘A Wolf In The Doorway’, a wonderfully put-together record that represents a slice of their constantly evolving creativity. Full of emotion at times and yet quietly reflective at others, we are drawn into a story, a journey through carefully-drawn vignettes that encompass nature at its most powerful. The imagery is vivid but still not overwhelming, and often the band favor gentle simplicity over complex instrumentation, meaning that when they do unleash their collective sonic prowess we do not find ourselves blown out of our seats, clinging on for dear life while rushing to hit the ‘volume down’ button. It’s a balance that has been curated over time, starting when Martin Earley and Devin Mauch begin making music at college back in 2010, locked in their dorm rooms with just an acoustic guitar, a djembe, and themselves. That minimalistic charm was retained even when they changed cello players in September 2013, with Calin Peters naturally subsuming into the group in a way that felt entirely natural.
The addition of Calin not only gave them a cellist with a different dynamic than they had before, but also a timid vocalist with some serious chops up her sleeve. Although she had always loved creating harmonies, she found herself shying away from center stage, but her confidence grew exponentially within The Ballroom Thieves and this latest album sees her spotlighted enough to leave us wanting more. She leads ‘Bury Me Smiling’, co-headlines ‘Anchors’ in a kind of duet with Martin, and joins in excellent three-part harmony on a multitude of the tracks, making herself heard as a soulful but fiery personality who deserves to take lead vocal more often. That is not to take away from Martin’s own vocal abilities, of course, as they guide us expressively through the likes of ‘Saint Monica’ and ‘The Loneliness Waltz’, giving us the album’s most potent, striking moments. “I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars,” he sings voraciously on ‘Archers’. “And if we don’t dare to hold it then this reckless wandering love was never ours.”
Spurned on from an extensive touring schedule that finds them as likely to play to six people as they are to six hundred, the band’s willingness to push themselves into new territory, all the while retaining some sense of who they were to begin with, makes this record all the more illustrious, all the more creative, and all the more enjoyable. They place great focus on expanding and developing, and we get the sense from this record that this is only the beginning. That this is just one effortlessly captured moment in a long string of growth that finds them refreshed and renewed each time they play. That kind of passion for music and art is infectious, and it can be plainly heard on ‘A Wolf In The Doorway’. Keep your eyes peeled for the arrival of the beast.
