I’ve been fortunate enough to be given a copy of Kat Flint’s forthcoming album “Dirty Birds”, and I hereby attempt to influence you to purchase it, when you can. It’s very good. Songs such as “Ohio” and “Lonesome Crowd” contain an emotional sucker punch in the same vein as Sufjan Stevens’ “John Wayne Gacy”. Like Stevens, Flint is a storyteller, detailing the journey between a rural idyll and the grimy city – the title track namechecks Soho before commenting knowingly that this “is where TV came to die”. She is an exemplary lyricist, often seeming to write in character – a commentator on her surroundings, with the confidence to raise a weary eyebrow at the weaknesses and foibles of a screwed-up world. Some points in the album are exceptionally upsetting – always beautiful, charming, and welcoming, but incredibly emotional and heartwrenching. For the album, Flint has welded her Aimee Mann-ly glumness to a powerful musical engine, crisp string arrangements, tinkly glockenspiel and lovely picked guitar, and the songs occasionally launch into Bright Eyes-esque choral sing-a-longs. There are lots of highlights – my personal favourite track is “Saddest Blue Dress”, a tender and raw song about an extra-marital affair that concludes, agonisingly, “all my children will smile like the first time we met / It’s alright…” – it’s blisteringly sad.
I believe it will be out soon, but do check her myspace for details of when – it is a silvery disc to cherish.