Ursula Burns’ third outing is one of the few albums since Astral Weeks to mess with notions of temporal, spatial and cosmic displacement. It is constructed from rolling piano figures that threaten to vanish off cliff-tops, fragmented drum taps, harp arpeggios, soprano sax and vocals so in-your-ear they could be your conscience – or your fairy godmother – calling. Indeed, never was the instruction to shut up and listen delivered so lightly as on the opening ‘Keep It In Your Heart’ (“I want you to be as silent as the falling snowflakes”), featuring a co-vocal from Liam O Maonlai.
If the words at times seem a little hello-birds/hello-sky for comfort, Burns can carry off songs about angels and fluffy clouds by dint of a thick northern accent that roots them onto very firma terra. Another exercise in contrasts: ‘Third Star’ is a mother’s longing to see her unborn child’s face that gets gee-upped by Ronan O Snodaigh’s cattle-calls.
So yes, this music originates from Celtic twilight territory, but the ingenious arrangements seem beamed by satellite from all corners of the globe. The secondary melodies on ‘Shooting Star’ echo Wayne Coyne’s love-and-death-on-acid trips from The Soft Bulletin, while ‘Boboli Gardens’ contrasts Bollywood strings and shakers with bursts of pneumatic drill drum fills. Consider Rollercoaster Castaways a space cadet symphony comparable to works by Mary Margaret O’Hara and Kate Bush. Ursula Burns is to be commended for her lucid dreaming.