hazel winter

Archived reviews from Hazel's first album 'Put Away the Sharp Knives'.

Rawer than a gaping wound, 'Put Away the Sharp Knives' is a million miles removed from the current legion of folksy singer songwriters and their acoustic whining. Instead this is a bluesy, viscerally exciting ride that pulls off the clever trick of sounding simultaneously brittle and vicious. It features the voice and guitar of the ex-Blue Aeroplane band member with just a little help from Portishead's Adrian Utley and John Parish. Sometimes Winter's pipes are pushed to breaking point on tracks like the edge-of-your-seat 'Running on Empty'. She has dug deep on this album - these songs hurt. Your gut instinct is to draw away from the flames but listen closely and you'll find there's a caustic sense of humour at play too. Thrillingly uneasy listening.

Intimate, edgy stuff. Scratchy, on-the-edge-of-disaster guitar, distorted, naive vocal that 'can't relax, can't sit still', Winter pulls you into her deliciously world with the assurance of the genuinely fucked-up. She whispers and whimpers with feverish, attention-seeking despair that she's 'running on empty', 'wearing one skin less' and 'the breeder of bad dreams', asking at one point 'how did all that blood get on my ceiling?'. The not untuneful music grates and scuffs at you with a threatening instability that throbs with imminent violence: relax at your peril. Reminiscent in atmosphere of early PJ Harvey and extreme Portishead - though probably even further out - John Parish of the former outfit and Adrian Utley of the latter are indeed involved in this to some degree, tweaking the musical attitude, though it's the extraordinarily unsettling persona of Winter that dominates the record. One to watch, undoubtedly, but with the lights on.
Chris Ingham

Anyone who's seen Hazel's gigs over the last year or so will not be surprised to find that 'Put Away the Sharp Knives' opens with the sound of metal spiders attacking her guitar while John Parish throws the entire contents of his kitchen around, pretending to use a drumkit as a metaphor. Hazel then demolishes a 'cold creature' with a demonic slide guitar before informing us that its 'as hot as hell in here'. As Bette Davis put it, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Scratchy punk/folk Beefheart guitars, little-girl vocals from the ether and weird time signatures reflect a worldview in which 'even the good times weren't that good'. Melodic and distinctive even while it's raging, like putting your settee on a cliff top in the middle of a thunderstorm and watching 'Friends' with the sound turned down.
Gerard Langley

These 11 tracks (guitared, overdubbed and mixed by Portishead's Adrian Utlety and drummed, guitared and produced by John Parish, once Polly Harvey's writing partner) have much going for them. Breeder stands tallest, all angular arrangement and an identifiable chorus which snarls 'I'm the breeder of bad dreams' at will. 'I'm the wager of war,' she continues, 'I'm the goddess of filth'. Skydiving runs it close as Winter's oddly seductive shriekery goes ever higher with each passing verse while she whispers all kinds of sexual magic against a gentle acoustic. Finally, the closing Mindwalking is as Jesus & Mary Chain as its title.
Hazel Winter will be unstoppable.
John Aizlewood

Oooh, yeah... this is the slinky, schizoid, off kilter groove we've been waiting for. Guitars and vocals by Hazel, drums and base by former PJ Harvey collaborator John Parish, feature appearances from Portishead's Adrian Utley - all recorded to four-track cassette in Hazel's front room. And sounds it... which is a good thing. Jagged, edgy, rare and brilliant.

Jagged and dangerous as that title suggests, thrillingly raw debut from Bristolian singer-songwriter Winter... there's a dark, viscous blending of neo-folk idioms and (s)punky rock which rather makes Kristin Hersh a kindred spirit. Edgy, angular, soulful and agreeably low-fi stuff.
Sharon O'Connell

Mad, bad or simply nice to know?
It may have been mostly recorded on a 'crappy four-track tape machine with loads of hiss', but Hazel Winter's debut album 'Put Away the Sharp Knives' is a statement of bloody-minded intent and, equally, utter delicious confusion - as in the case of the album's title track, where you can almost picture Hazel directing drummer and producer John Parish to set up at the top of a precarious flight of stairs and nervously wait there for her to come and kick and whole kit, caboodle (and Parish) back down it. Well, that's what it sounds like.
'Put Away the Sharp Knives', you may have figured out, is not the tremorous warbling of some fey, folky singer/songwriter. It's a frantic, crashing, howling, cacophonous racket spiked with Winter's open-heart lyrics ripped from the files marked sex, death, general beligerence and painful break up/downs. It fucking rocks.

So what of Hazel, the Durham-born former Blue Aeroplane whose live performances are deservedly celebrated for their intensity along with the bleak, raw honesty of her lyrics? Her fans take her very seriously. At a recent gig she dedicated a song to 'the pub next door to the outpatient's department of the ***** mental health unit'. A Venue hack laughed loudly at the crack, only to be sternly ssshed by an audience member, who snapped: 'Can't you see she's damaged?!'

Hazel guffaws when this tale is related to her. She doesn't sound damaged. Actually, she's charming, doesn't drink, smoke or watch TV (though she does grow leeks). 'Just for fun,' she says. Sinisterly. Nonetheless, she has a weary air about her that suggests the ghosts of bad times past. Her live shows - sometimes with a band, sometimes just solo - can be disturbingly close to the bone. 'I don't really feel like it's me singing, it's like I'm coughing something up - sorry, that sounds gross, doesn't it? - but when it comes up, I feel better for a bit. I can see why some people might think I'm, y'know...'

Recording the album in a dozen downtime sessions in studios with no budget (she paid both Utley and Parish in leeks) over a two-year period was, she says, 'a tad traumatic, a real struggle'. Once word of Parish and Utley's involvement got out, Hazel was approached by a number of suits from record labels. 'I got really excited. I phoned John to tell him that this big posh record company phoned. He laughed. 'Have you heard what we've done to it? They're not going to like it.' And they didn't. They all fled gagging and screaming to the hills. Fuck them; the album's everything I ever wanted it to sound like and more. I was close to tears when I first heard it, it sounded so ... just what it was meant to sound like.'


		Archived reviews from Hazel's first album 'Put Away the Sharp Knives'. Rawer than a gaping wound, 'Put Away the Sharp Knives' is a million miles removed from the current legion of folksy singer songwriters and their acoustic whining. Instead this is a bluesy, viscerally exciting ride that pulls off the clever trick of sounding simultaneously brittle and vicious. It features the voice and guitar of the ex-Blue Aeroplane band member with just a little help from Portishead's Adrian Utley and John Parish. Sometimes Winter's pipes are pushed to breaking point on tracks like the edge-of-your-seat 'Running on Empty'. She has dug deep on this album - these songs hurt. Your gut instinct is to draw away from the flames but listen closely and you'll find there's a caustic sense of humour at play too. Thrillingly uneasy listening. Intimate, edgy stuff. Scratchy, on-the-edge-of-disaster guitar, distorted, naive vocal that 'can't relax, can't sit still', Winter pulls you into her deliciously world with the assurance of the genuinely fucked-up. She whispers and whimpers with feverish, attention-seeking despair that she's 'running on empty', 'wearing one skin less' and 'the breeder of bad dreams', asking at one point 'how did all that blood get on my ceiling?'. The not untuneful music grates and scuffs at you with a threatening instability that throbs with imminent violence: relax at your peril. Reminiscent in atmosphere of early PJ Harvey and extreme Portishead - though probably even further out - John Parish of the former outfit and Adrian Utley of the latter are indeed involved in this to some degree, tweaking the musical attitude, though it's the extraordinarily unsettling persona of Winter that dominates the record. One to watch, undoubtedly, but with the lights on. Chris Ingham Anyone who's seen Hazel's gigs over the last year or so will not be surprised to find that 'Put Away the Sharp Knives' opens with the sound of metal spiders attacking her guitar while John Parish throws the entire contents of his kitchen around, pretending to use a drumkit as a metaphor. Hazel then demolishes a 'cold creature' with a demonic slide guitar before informing us that its 'as hot as hell in here'. As Bette Davis put it, it's going to be a bumpy ride. Scratchy punk/folk Beefheart guitars, little-girl vocals from the ether and weird time signatures reflect a worldview in which 'even the good times weren't that good'. Melodic and distinctive even while it's raging, like putting your settee on a cliff top in the middle of a thunderstorm and watching 'Friends' with the sound turned down. Gerard Langley These 11 tracks (guitared, overdubbed and mixed by Portishead's Adrian Utlety and drummed, guitared and produced by John Parish, once Polly Harvey's writing partner) have much going for them. Breeder stands tallest, all angular arrangement and an identifiable chorus which snarls 'I'm the breeder of bad dreams' at will. 'I'm the wager of war,' she continues, 'I'm the goddess of filth'. Skydiving runs it close as Winter's oddly seductive shriekery goes ever higher with each passing verse while she whispers all kinds of sexual magic against a gentle acoustic. Finally, the closing Mindwalking is as Jesus & Mary Chain as its title. Hazel Winter will be unstoppable. John Aizlewood Oooh, yeah... this is the slinky, schizoid, off kilter groove we've been waiting for. Guitars and vocals by Hazel, drums and base by former PJ Harvey collaborator John Parish, feature appearances from Portishead's Adrian Utley - all recorded to four-track cassette in Hazel's front room. And sounds it... which is a good thing. Jagged, edgy, rare and brilliant. Jagged and dangerous as that title suggests, thrillingly raw debut from Bristolian singer-songwriter Winter... there's a dark, viscous blending of neo-folk idioms and (s)punky rock which rather makes Kristin Hersh a kindred spirit. Edgy, angular, soulful and agreeably low-fi stuff. Sharon O'Connell Mad, bad or simply nice to know? It may have been mostly recorded on a 'crappy four-track tape machine with loads of hiss', but Hazel Winter's debut album 'Put Away the Sharp Knives' is a statement of bloody-minded intent and, equally, utter delicious confusion - as in the case of the album's title track, where you can almost picture Hazel directing drummer and producer John Parish to set up at the top of a precarious flight of stairs and nervously wait there for her to come and kick and whole kit, caboodle (and Parish) back down it. Well, that's what it sounds like. 'Put Away the Sharp Knives', you may have figured out, is not the tremorous warbling of some fey, folky singer/songwriter. It's a frantic, crashing, howling, cacophonous racket spiked with Winter's open-heart lyrics ripped from the files marked sex, death, general beligerence and painful break up/downs. It fucking rocks. So what of Hazel, the Durham-born former Blue Aeroplane whose live performances are deservedly celebrated for their intensity along with the bleak, raw honesty of her lyrics? Her fans take her very seriously. At a recent gig she dedicated a song to 'the pub next door to the outpatient's department of the ***** mental health unit'. A Venue hack laughed loudly at the crack, only to be sternly ssshed by an audience member, who snapped: 'Can't you see she's damaged?!' Hazel guffaws when this tale is related to her. She doesn't sound damaged. Actually, she's charming, doesn't drink, smoke or watch TV (though she does grow leeks). 'Just for fun,' she says. Sinisterly. Nonetheless, she has a weary air about her that suggests the ghosts of bad times past. Her live shows - sometimes with a band, sometimes just solo - can be disturbingly close to the bone. 'I don't really feel like it's me singing, it's like I'm coughing something up - sorry, that sounds gross, doesn't it? - but when it comes up, I feel better for a bit. I can see why some people might think I'm, y'know...' Recording the album in a dozen downtime sessions in studios with no budget (she paid both Utley and Parish in leeks) over a two-year period was, she says, 'a tad traumatic, a real struggle'. Once word of Parish and Utley's involvement got out, Hazel was approached by a number of suits from record labels. 'I got really excited. I phoned John to tell him that this big posh record company phoned. He laughed. 'Have you heard what we've done to it? They're not going to like it.' And they didn't. They all fled gagging and screaming to the hills. Fuck them; the album's everything I ever wanted it to sound like and more. I was close to tears when I first heard it, it sounded so ... just what it was meant to sound like.'
		all content copyright Hazel Winter 2007