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Saturday, 26 November 2005 10:09

Aerial would likely be just as vital and ambitious had it been released five years ago. KATE BUSH: AERIAL (Columbia)

Twelve years is an eternity in the music business. Entire genres have flourished and faded within that span of time. Through it all, the dedicated fans of the singular English songstress Kate Bush waited, hoping for the drought to end, forced to content themselves with the latest release by Tori Amos or Fiona Apple—imitators and pretenders who pale slightly in comparison, sure, but better than silence and endless wondering.

But as suddenly as she’d disappeared came thin, thrilling trickles of news: Bush was writing new songs. She was working with now-deceased composer Michael Kamen. Her new album might possibly be released in 2003…or perhaps 2005. At last, it was confirmed; the interminable hiatus was over. The Rubberband Girl was snapping back into action.

So what of Aerial, Bush’s first new material in over a decade? For those bracing themselves for some brain-rattling revelations, stunning sonic developments, or even explanations as to Bush’s whereabouts the past 12 years, you’ll need to adjust your expectations. Bush hasn’t been doing much aside from living her life, experiencing the day-to-day doldrums of domesticity.

Perhaps the most ambitious aspect of Aerial is that it’s a two-disc concept album, split neatly in ’tween. The first disc (“A Sea of Honey”) is a closely observed dissection of the quiet hours spent staring out the window whilst folding laundry, and the second (“A Sky of Honey”) is a nine-part suite built around recurring motifs of light and lilting birdsong, tracing a day from afternoon through dusk, night, and the following day’s sunrise.

Bush’s trademark eccentricity is in full effect throughout Aerial. “Pi” is a delirious Fibonacci spiral that finds her literally parsing out numbers as a metaphor for all-consuming passion. “Bertie” is an unabashed love song to her son (born in 1998) that fairly drips baroque strings. “Mrs. Bartolozzi,” a stark, sensual sketch, is goosed by the unexpected heat of sudden passion and some oddball onomatopoeia, while “Joanni” is an ominous valentine to Joan of Arc.

“A Sky of Honey” is even more willfully obtuse than the songs on the first disc. Taken as a whole, the conceptual suite works a beautiful sort of thematic magic, although “An Architect’s Dream” is a particular standout. Bush has always been at her best when attempting to reconcile her bifurcated creative personality—the avant-garde, esoteric classicist and the forward-thinking rock chick whose intensely personal style has inspired a generation of acolytes.

Not that she necessarily needed to, but Bush easily proves she hasn’t missed a beat in her extended absence. Aerial would likely be just as vital and ambitious had it been released five years ago. As it stands, it’s one of this year’s best.