ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: OCTOBER 11TH 2010


In the thirteen years since the release of their self-titled debut, Antony And The Johnsons have evolved into one of the more reliable alternative musical outfits. The 2005 Mercury Prize-winning I Am A Bird Now was a slow burner, a record that has since become well known for its rousing exploration of personal freedom, acceptance and gender identity. Its successor, The Crying Light, was released in early 2009 and proved to be an altogether starker, more sombre affair. Concerned with the destruction of the natural world, Antony Hegarty drew lines between environmental disaster and sidelined queer politics. Constantly fascinated by the middle ground between life and death, Hegarty was inspired by the Japanese Butoh dancer Kazuo Ohno for his controlled and poised performances. Ohno has passed away since the release of The Crying Light, but his image is forever captured (recoiling, almost positioned between life and death itself) in the album’s striking and memorable cover.


And so with the release of Swanlights almost two years later in October 2010, we found Hegarty still reflecting on life and death yet with a more whimsical, spirited approach. After straining his voice in 1997, Hegarty stressed mental and physical wellbeing as the most important requirement to being able to sing well. It’s almost a relief to discover that happiness and joy are overflowing on Swanlights, though it may not always appear so. The title track itself crackles with dense electric guitar reverb as Hegarty’s distorted vocals shift and mould its upward movement, utilising a repetition through which he momentarily loses focus and direction. It’s the closest thing to drone that is explored here and recalls the final minute of Hope There’s Someone as dissonance climaxes with the beautiful warping of Hegarty’s most spectacular instrument.


Frequently positioning himself as the subject of death, Hegarty provides equal moments of refreshing newness and rebirth. Everything Is New opens the album and feels as pristine as the first fallen snow on a crisp and cold winter morning, like awakening to the world with virgin eyes. It shifts halfway through to provide a stirring climax and as a consequence feels as arresting as Her Eyes Are Underneath The Ground, with its repetition of the title (only the three title words are exclaimed throughout the song) and sudden opening. The faint vocals near the end reflect a genuine reverence, at once forthright before sinking into the background as an unwavering string section and warm percussion arrangements fade out.


That song opened The Crying Light in a wonderfully spectral tone and is picked up here with The Spirit Was Gone suggesting a companion piece. “It’s hard to understand,” Hegarty sings, acting as an interpretor between the two shifts of life and death, ruminating on the tangibility of the physical and spiritual as to almost offer an explanation or justification on the uncertainty of death. It’s not a green card for pathos, however, as much of Swanlights is resplendent with light and space. Indeed, Ghost and I’m In Love are sunlit wonders to behold. The former traverses between a galloping piano riff, adopting string arrangements as it builds before plunging back to the same line. I’m In Love, meanwhile, draws on an organ and a twisted melody that sidewinds along wth percussive elements. Hegarty sings of a wistful love and makes use of vocal nonsense which attests to the sincerity of his charm. Thank You For Love brings us back to the corporal world, a touchstone of the Johnsons approach which incorporates horns, electric piano and drums for a distinctly soulful exploration as it builds more vocal repetition. Hegarty is one of a few artists who can sincerely use these singular motifs to effect without coming across as laborious, and it’s the richness and texture of his phrasing which allow for this.


Flétta will become the most memorable thing about Swanlights for the obvious fact that it features vocals from Björk. After his contribution to The Dull Flame Of Desire on Volta, Björk returned the favour on a song that belies the star power of the two. Much like Ghost, it repeatedly returns to an initial piano note, billowing out and gathering pace as the two prodigies twist their vocals around each other with loving protection. If there’s one complaint, it would be that Hegarty feels all too happy to hide in the background as his more famous Icelandic counterpart takes the stage.


Should Swanlights represents any long lasting progression for Hegarty, it’s in the assiduous production and clean lines that confidently map out these beautiful arrangements. While most of the record feels positively fluid and meandering, there is a clear control at work here. The Great White Ocean is one such example where a simple acoustic guitar cradles Hegarty’s voice, suggesting a lullaby or a waking state of unconscious reverie with not one second of its five minutes rendered insignifcant by indulgent ramblings. Swanlights closes with the seven minute Christina’s Farm which is arguably the most impressive statement on the album. It is resolute and cinematic in its dramatic build, constructing a narrative which is both gentle and powerful. Lyrics are repeated again but harnessed with a greater urgency than before. Hegarty stays faithful to the figures from which he draws inspiration with muses on the animal kingdom once again, mentioning the likes of doves, flamingos, horses, owls, and kittens. Once again, it’s a wonderful example of Hegarty’s control and dexterity. It avoids the usual cliche of climaxing by way of dramatic crescendo, favouring an approach that slithers neatly into expansion out of its own minimal beginnings.


Swanlights arrived in a more elaborate fashion than any of its predecessors, with a limited edition 144-page companion book filled with drawings, collages and notations by Hegarty. For some, this could be perceived as an artistic supplement to further communicate the music of the record to Hegarty’s audience. But really, Antony And The Johnsons have always worked best without explanation. In the same way we have no explanation for death and the distance between what lies beyond, Hegarty has proven himself a significant conduit for darkness and arresting emotional poignancy. That he can transfer this into musical light makes him, like Björk, a great communicator. His songs are meant to be loved, shared and experienced by the most basic of human instincts, but not always understood. Swanlights is the least immediate and at times difficult release for Antony And The Johnsons thus far. It’s also the most enduring.