Jade Bird: Different Kinds of Light review – a sparkling delight

English singer-songwriter Jade Bird’s sophomore album builds on the best parts of the debut with new maturity, sincerity and most importantly some cracking singles. The result is an album I felt an instant personal connection to.

There’s nothing quite like listening to an album in bed. For me it’s by far the most immersive way to enjoy it – an otherwise completely silent environment with no distracting visual stimuli, just a voice and instruments and a musical story to try and dissect. I find myself happy to lie motionless as the late hours pass and soak in someone else’s creative labour of love, moving only to check my phone and make a futile attempt to memorise the name of that standout song before an early sleep wipes it from memory. For me, late-night album listening is usually saved for special occasions, in particular for those times I find myself far from home and therefore prepared for a long, dark wait before sleep finally finds me. Of course, no night is as sleepless as a night spent wild camping, and so on each of my more recent camps I’ve chosen the company of a handful of outstanding atmospheric albums. Turn Out the Lights was an apt choice as I overlooked distant bright lights whilst bivvying in the Yorkshire Dales last year, whilst Lianne La Havas’ self-titled album (and more specifically her cover of Weird Fishes) was on loop when I had another overnight visit to the Dales this summer. Phoebe Bridgers’ Punisher joined me in north Wales whilst Cage The Elephant’s Melophobia was a psychedelic sleep soundtrack in the Lake District. Each time, I finish the album with a deeper personal connection to it, having experienced it at its fullest and purest.

I wasn’t in a tent when I first heard Different Kinds of Light, but was nonetheless once again sleeping alongside my best friend, sharing a ¾ double bed in a cramped Edinburgh uni student flat that felt like luxury compared to my poky two-man tent. It took only a few seconds of belting opener Open Up the Heavens for me to be fully engaged in the loud and bold new world of Different Kinds of Light. The opening bass riff is electrifying, helped along by a relentless tambourine and Bird’s impassioned vocals describing stormy betrayal. She really opens up in an expansive chorus, raising her voice almost to breaking point with the memorable refrain “it’s raining on a sunny day”. As an album opener to get me pumped up for what’s to come, it’s near flawless.

There’s plenty more vocal and instrumental grit to enjoy throughout Different Kinds of Light. Honeymoon moves with an Eleanor Rigby-esque chug, while Candidate serves up the nastiest chorus of the album, with Bird offering powerful self defense of her friends over screeching rock guitars, instead offering up herself: “If you want somebody to judge, if you want somebody to blame, if you want somebody to hate, I’m a great candidate”. It’s more disjointed and musically complex than Bird’s loveable but straightforward earlier tracks like Uh Huh and Love Has All Been Done Before, and offers a momentary insight into an art-rock side of Bird that sadly isn’t much explored elsewhere on Different Kinds of Light.

The real test of a country-rock album like this is if the quieter, less showy moments stick. In this regard, Bird does a pretty good job, with songs like Red White and Blue offering a much-needed tender side to Bird’s sound, as well as strong examples of good old-fashioned acoustic guitar songwriting. Sweet and delicate closer Prototype is a hidden gem of a love song, with Bird’s upfront and endearing lyricism (“I love you and I think I always will”) sitting nicely beside a joyful harmonica and touching harmonised vocals from boyfriend Luke. It’s a romantic campfire-ready package that sits just on the right side of cheesy. Houdini, however, is less successful, and a promising verse is let down by a rather weak and forgettable chorus, as well as a structure that gives the song little room to develop.

Where Different Kinds of Light excels most, inevitably, is where Bird finds the sonic balance between Prototype’s sweetness and Candidate’s bitterness. That moment comes around about halfway through with the stunning Now is the Time, which turns out to be one of the finest moments of Bird’s still-blossoming career. A gloriously bright acoustic guitar gives the song the vague feel of a modern Here Comes the Sun, complete with delightful lyrics about the love of life. “Never ever seen a better day to get up, doesn’t matter ‘bout the weather now’s the time to go and get it,” Bird blurts out in one excited breath at the end of each chorus before giving way to a country-informed guitar solo. Bubbling congas and some typically adventurous bass lines seem to fill the track with a sincerity and warmth that matches well with Different Kinds of Light’s bright orange album art. With all its soaring melodies and sense of youthful freedom, Now is the Time is a three-minute musical smile, and a timely reminder that every day is a gift during what has been a special summer for me.

Listening to thumping bonus track Headstart in the small hours in the middle of a new city, I’m reminded of why music means so much to me. Different Kinds of Light ends up feeling less like an escape from a long and unsuccessful night’s sleep and more a way of intensifying and enriching life’s emotions, be it through the raw anger of Candidate, the pure love of Prototype or the all-encompassing optimism of Now is the Time. It’s not a perfect album, but at its scintillating best Different Kinds of Light never fails to improve my spirits, no matter where in the world I happen to be.