Denise Johnson - Where Does It Go - Self-released
The recent premature and sad passing of one of Manchester's most respected and adored artists has been hard enough to process in these times but after just one listen to her long-awaited and poignant mini-album, it may just invoke a further full-on river of tears.
Where Does It Go is by turns celebratory, melancholic, spine-tingling, soulful and intimate, without being mawkish or miserable. Denise Johnson's art was her craft (and vice-versa) and she was rightfully proud of her only solo album after spending decades belting out backing vocals for the likes of Primal Scream, New Order etc, before joining the A Certain Ratio family on a more permanent basis. It is a cruel twist of fate that she isn't here to enjoy the rewards of her new labours.
Opener True Faith is, comparatively-speaking, quite jaunty and perfectly inter-twined in a perfect musical marriage with Thomas Twemlow's unobtrusive strumming and spatial production - it is that rare occasion when a reflective New Order cover actually works. 10cc's I'm Not In Love is already stunning and it's a brave soul that attempts to deliver anything near as haunting as the original chart-topper - safe to say Johnson has pulled it off with consummate ease.
The Smith's Well I Wonder and Simon Aldred's Evangeline serve to remind us that her adoration of local songwriters wasn't just about regional pride - the latter by the Cherry Ghost frontman is really rather special on many levels. But perhaps the most unexpected re-reading is the hopeful and joyous Sunshine After The Rain, formally a hit for '70s Salfordian folk-pop icon Elkie Brooks (although '90s heads may remember the clubbier New Atlantic version featuring Berri). Originally written by Ellie Greenwich, a frequent co-writer with husband Jeff Barry for the likes of Phil Spector, Sunshine positively bursts into a new lease of life with Johnson's expressive and powerful tonsils.
The two Denise originals are just as impressive - Nothing You Can Do has slight undertones of Led Zeppelin's Babe I'm Gonna Leave You and is just as forlorn, while the closing gospel-tinged Steal Me Easy benefits from a little extra instrumentation including nifty slide and hammond.
A fitting and enriching epitaph for Manchester's inspirational queen of the scene.