King Hannah shall not be pin-holed, manoeuvred, choreographed, or stifled on their determined debut LP, I’m Not Sorry, I Was Just Being Me.
If the title didn’t already tell you, Liverpool’s Hannah Merrick and Craig Whittle are releasing their debut LP on their own terms. With a dozen songs, Merrick solidifies her position as a hypnotic vocalist, shrouded in enigmatic, unapologetic presence. Alongside the carefully contoured guitar work of Whittle, they’ve created quite a dark record and not one that is easily forgotten.
But to explain why we need to dig into their creative expressions. Track by track.
Opener A Well-Made Woman slowly creeps along with a rolling, ominous mystique, reminiscent of Screenshot from SWANS. The off-kilter drum playing is a highlight, but so is Merrick’s chilling vocal performance. From here, we move to a steadier rhythm on All Being Fine, a song simultaneously easy-listening and haunting. Whittle’s guitar whirls really create a nervous atmosphere, taking the groovy song to a brooding level.
Whittle takes the vocals on the poetic Ants Crawling on an Apple Stork, a slow burner with distorted acoustic and sober reflection. Meanwhile, instrumental Berenson sounds like Courtney Barnett at her gloomiest. Effectively nonchalant, but still beating.
Single Big Big Baby is a crunchy desecration of a nameless man who “got a lady pregnant”. According to Merrick, he’ll remain the Big Big Baby of the family, who causes nothing but “pain, pain, pain”. This is a hallmark moment on the record; a litmus test for its listeners. Does Merrick’s one-sided narration irk you? Remember, she’s not sorry… ‘I was just being me’.
Speaking of, we need to talk about the title track and personal favourite. “I never remember names of movie stars” Merrick begins, in a sprawling passage of stream-of-consciousness. Whittle responds and takes the next phrase. As the fingerpicked guitar and dreary tempo continue, your mind will wander alongside the thoughtful songwriters. Whittle’s guitar solo is idiosyncratic and buzzy, like something of Revolver. “We want the music to sound raw and natural, not produced to within an inch of its life,” Whittle says. “It needs to breathe and sound like people are in a room”.
The album bookends with the epic, 7 minutes The Moods That I Get In. Resting on gentle electric chords and soft 6/8 high-hat hits, I suspect some Julia Jacklin influence. However, as the song transitions time signature, and the ambient guitars ring out, the only universe you’ll be floating in is King Hannah’s. “I’m all I’m ever gunna be” she concludes; a shuddering mantra and final testament to being unreservedly yourself.
