Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙀𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩 – 𝙁𝙞𝙜 𝙁𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙇𝙪𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙖 𝙉𝙤𝙫𝙖 & 𝙍𝙞𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙖
Charles has no identity…
I’m reading a book about Paul McCartney at the moment. Despite assuming I know pretty much everything there is to know about him and his life, I find myself repeatedly floored by the most fascinating chunks of “Huh, I had no idea about that”. It covers so many aspects of his life and career, from family and friends to his love of literature and old ladies (not to mention younger ones). In some respects his life could never be considered in any way similar to ours. He is in another league. Incomparable. But in other ways, he is very much a normal human being with the same thoughts, feelings, worries and anxieties as all of us. Yes, he has always had that pillow of money to cushion the blow, but he has also had problems that none of us has ever had to deal with. Such as world fame for over 60 years. He is not a complainer in the slightest, but he still needs to deal with things in his own way. With world fame comes pressure. He was never one of those lucky ones who just happened to become famous – like untalented TV presenters. He was famous because of his raw talent. So, as the fame mounted, so did the pressure. Fame and adulation can crash as quickly as it soars. By the end of The Beatles, he was lost, exhausted and scared. He was on his own. But he had Linda. The book often returns to the themes of freedom and escape. His farms in Scotland and Sussex being regular getaways from the persistent nagging press and endless business meetings (he always hated the business side). He would sometimes even travel to Jamaica or Africa to record an album – again, getting away from everything. This frequent escape was probably what kept him sane throughout the decades.
Thankfully, we don’t have these problems. I could say “most” of us don’t have these problems, but I think I can safely say that EVERYONE reading these articles has never been famous and knows nothing of the feeling. Many of us, however, might suffer from the complete opposite. Total invisibility – no eyes on you (despite that word containing 5 eyes). The feeling that no one knows and no one cares. A vague, occasional shadow, at best. One who has little to offer, or one who has much to offer but no one pays any attention. The feeling of being a permanent third wheel, surplus to requirements. No mark has been made, and no heads have been turned. Unlike Paul’s “Ever Present Past”, one’s present and past might come across as irrelevant. Or so that’s what one might think and feel. We’ve all seen the world’s little people on social media, attempting to act like big people, with the hope of actually becoming big people (I don’t mean fat). What if “fame” is not the answer…? What if everything is actually fine? What if all this is just an illusion based on one’s feelings? Are your friends and family actually ignoring you? Have you actually done anything terribly wrong? Have you actually offended anyone? Would you genuinely consider yourself the outcast of society? I would assume the answer for all of these to be No. What is actually most likely the cause of this feeling is arrogance from the other side. Being ignored is usually the fault of the ignorer rather than the ignoree. THEY’RE the ones who need to change. Contrary to the classic break-up line, you should be saying “It’s not me, it’s you”. You could of course loudly flaunt your presence and boast your talents, but perhaps what you need is a good dose of pepping up? Or maybe an amalgamation of the two…
We’re always being told we need to “stay relevant”. It’s a phrase so casually tossed around, but surely the alternative suggests we are irrelevant… Aren’t we our own relevance? Shouldn’t we decide what is relevant or not? To “stay relevant” these days seems to say “be like everyone else”, which to me is the opposite of “relevance”. Being deliberate and true to oneself, is just about as forthright as one can be. Invisibility (and its 5 eyes) will be a thing of the past, and the right people will find you. Ignore the ignorers. In the words of, well, most people these days, “Yer good”. Which brings me neatly into the land of Fig Fable and its members. And what a triumphant land it is! For me, Fig Fable is Lubena Nova and others, because Lubena is the associated member of the community. She’s the person I chat with, she’s the lyricist and melodist, and she’s the sensational singer. But “and others” is frankly unfair, so we will be covering everyone involved. Please welcome Fig Fable with their brand new single, ‘The Woman Who Doesn’t Exist’! Jazz hands at the ready!!
To say this song is a straightforward pop song, would be a huge lie. ‘The Woman Who Doesn’t Exist’ (TWWDE from now on) is not pop in the slightest. This is unashamedly jazz. Yes, real jazz. But vocal jazz. We still have song here, but don’t expect lingering chords of C, G, D, Am & Em. And you won’t hear any chunky riffs progressing the song either. But you will hear edgy vocals. Just not the kind of vocals you have heard elsewhere. I have reviewed the Nova/Riitala duo once before, over a year ago. If you are old enough to remember that, then Lubena Nova’s particular singing voice might be familiar to you. It is unmistakable. If you AREN’t familiar with anything by Nova/Riitala/FigFable, then this might very well blow your mind. NO ONE sounds like them. This is originality incarnate. Of course, we have the inimitable Lubena Nova on vocals, lyrics and melodies; but then there’s Jari Riitala as composer, arranger and double bass player. The combo is completed with Ville Vihko on piano, and Veikka Kajamies on drums. Finally, the whole piece is mixed and mastered by our very own Andres Guazzelli.
Now… I am aware that many music listeners (yes, even artists) are instantly put off by even the mention of jazz. And I understand(!)… to an extent… I think what I don’t like is that “even a mention” bit. An instant switching off because “Oh yuk: jazz, I hate jazz”. Jazz can be as wide ranging as pop, so I urge you not to be so quick to judge until you’ve listened. Be open. Be willing. You never know, you might actually like it! Shall we get jazzy? Let’s. After a brief (but stupendous) piano introduction from Ville, Veikka sets the tempo with a snappy little drum fill, and we’re in. Jari’s bass is walking fast to the most vivacious of waltzes and Lubena simultaneously sings what I can only understand as the word “wiba”. She repeats this word many times before we get into Verse 1. I was instantly baffled by this word. Was it even a word? It seems to have importance, as not only is this sung multiple times in the intro, it appears many times throughout the song… So I asked someone. My private source has informed me that this is in fact what I had initially been inclined to believe. Scat. ‘Wiba’ is not a real word. I have never been sure if I like scatting, but have recently come to the conclusion that if a person can scat with immediate confidence, then it is good scatting. This is therefore good scat. Lubena gave me a right good scatting.
Up to this point, the song already has tremendous bounce and movement, as each player dances around the full range of their instrument. Verse 1 changes key and the three instruments club together, very often playing in rhythmic unison, somehow simplifying the music, thus drawing one’s attention to Lubena’s vocals as she sings in the oh-so operatic style that only she knows: “I am the woman who doesn’t exist. I have no identity, I’m never missed”. There is a falling chromaticism to each line, ending on a grounded chord that wants to go further. And further is exactly where it goes. In fact, this is one of the joys of TWWDE. It just doesn’t sit still. And yet, there is definite form, thanks to Jari’s excellent, natural writing. The ‘wiba’ motif is actually VERY clever, because in returning to this every once in a while, we have something to latch on to (as novices in the field of jazz). This section is the bounciest, most catchy part, making TWWDE a piece not only for the jazzers but for a wider audience not so used to such herbs and spices. My ignorant palate can easily taste, digest and even enjoy this, and it puts me in the mood for more! Pop suddenly sounds a little “what it says on the tin”.
Two minutes into the five-and-a-half-minute piece, Ville Vihko’s piano solo begins. It is of the absolute highest standard. Just impeccable, with nods to those lively, more spritely players – Dave Brubeck, David Newton (Stacey Kent’s pianist), Jamie Cullum, to name a few. The keys are dry and to the fore, but still blending so well with its siblings. The solo is a full minute long, and it never gets dull, but never gets “too jazzy” for the average ear. Crisp and precise yet full of life’s experience. The full band rejoins as a unit for around 40 seconds, while Lubena perches comfortably on top. Veikka Kajamies then takes centre stage, as the band pauses for a shot of non-alcoholic gin. Veikka delivers a fiery yet considered drum solo from the heavens. You will absolutely feel you are listening live at a jazz club. It is 20-30 seconds of “I wish I could do that”, before setting up again for the band to come together. It’s Wiba time!! The final minute is simply pure style. A notch above.
Of course, this will not be for everyone. I shouldn’t think Fig Fable imagines it’s for everyone either. But I tell you, I’d much rather listen to this than Taylor Swift or Olivia Rodrigo. There is something so pleasing and fulfilling about great musicians coming together and making proper music. The kind of music that I’m not good enough to play. The kind of music that demands a lot more thought and concentration as a listener. It’s worth the extra effort. I am enriched! Oh, and Lubena? I’m pleased you exist.
Compared to these fabulous musicians, I feel like an untalented TV presenter. And I’m not even famous.
Fame or no fame, I will now make my escape. Hello, Goodbye.
Listen to 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙀𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!
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