PJ Harvey began the 2010s with
Let England Shake, a strikingly prescient masterpiece that touched on thorny issues -- nationalism, war, the complex relationship one can have with one's homeland -- that only grew more fraught and more relevant as the years passed. In its finished, Mercury Prize-winning form, the album draws on all of
Harvey's experience as it breaks new artistic ground:
Dry's folk-inspired narratives,
Rid of Me's intensity, the globe-trotting tales of
Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea, and the unearthly terror of
Is This Desire? and
White Chalk can all be heard in its sweep.
Let England Shake: The Demos offers a parallel universe version of the album that throws its extremes of beauty and ugliness, compassion and cruelty, into sharp relief. Arguably, it's a scarier listen; the demo of "The Glorious Land" sounds even more like a twisted version of the kind of patriotic songs children learn in school, and "On Battleship Hill" affords more space for
Harvey's keening soprano to evoke decades of lingering pain. As is often the case on her demo albums, her voice is the main attraction on
Let England Shake: The Demos. Her crone-like wail on "England" speaks to an anguished love that's greater and more painful than any romance chronicled on her previous records. It's a mood she interprets in a more contemporary way on an almost fully formed version of "The Last Living Rose" that makes for one of the best songs on either version of
Let England Shake.
Harvey's use of samples as a metatext also stands out more plainly on her initial recordings for the album, underscoring the connections these songs have to the world around them. The loop of
the Four Lads' "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" that underpins the title track provides an ironic nod to changing cultural mores and adds a jarring contrast to her creaky voice, a technique she repeats on "The Words That Maketh Murder" by juxtaposing
Eddie Cochran's jaunty "Summertime Blues" with grisly battlefield imagery. Elsewhere,
Let England Shake: The Demos makes it easier to admire the arcs of the album's songs. The verses of "All and Everyone" march forward relentlessly, hitting home the almost journalistic detail of
Harvey's lyrics, while its weightless choruses seem to stop time altogether. Similarly, the loping melody of the stripped-down "The Colour of the Earth" captures how remembering trauma can make the years vanish. In its own way,
Let England Shake: The Demos is as haunting as the finished version of the album. It's notable that
Harvey used more or less the same process to sketch out her ideas for these songs as she did for
Dry nearly 20 years prior -- and more notable still that the demos for her later work are just as surprising and rewarding for fans. ~ Heather Phares