Silvern by Jess Bryant: A Raw, Unfiltered Dive into Indie Folk Magic
Alright, let’s cut the crap. If you’re looking for some shiny, overproduced pop nonsense, Silvern ain’t it. This 2012 gem from Jess Bryant is a gritty, genre-bending ride through rock, folk, indie pop, and even whispers of world music. Released under Red Deer Club in the UK, this album feels like someone took all their emotional baggage, threw it in a blender, and hit puree. And honestly? It works.
First off, props to Daniel Lea—he produced, mixed, arranged, AND played half the instruments on here (seriously, dude needs a raise). But don’t get me wrong; this isn’t his show. No, no, no. This is Jess Bryant’s moment to shine, and holy hell does she deliver. Her voice has that raw, unpolished edge that makes you feel like she’s sitting right there with you, spilling her guts over a cup of tea—or maybe something stronger.
Now, let’s talk tracks. You’ve got nine songs on this sucker, but two stuck out like sore thumbs: “Gravity & Grace” and “The Sea Is Asking.”
“Gravity & Grace” kicks things off with this haunting vibe that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. The strings—courtesy of Jamie McCarthy—are so damn cinematic they could soundtrack your life falling apart in slow motion. Then there’s Jess’s voice weaving in and out like smoke, pulling you deeper into whatever fever dream she’s cooking up. By the time the piano drops in, you’re already hooked. It’s one of those songs where you forget to breathe because it just hits different. Like, how do you even compete with that?
Then there’s “The Sea Is Asking,” which sounds like if the ocean itself decided to write a breakup song. Dom Garwood’s clarinet adds this eerie undertone that makes you wanna grab a sweater—even if you’re indoors. Jess lays down these poetic lyrics about longing and loss, and suddenly you’re not just listening anymore; you’re living it. The percussion builds slowly, almost teasing you, until the whole thing explodes into this cathartic mess of sound. Honestly, I had to replay it three times before I could move on. That’s how good it is.
Other standouts include “In Deepest Blue,” which is basically a masterclass in quiet beauty (pun intended), and “Stone Lady,” where Jess flexes her guitar skills while keeping things painfully intimate. But let’s be real—if you’re not sold after “Gravity & Grace” and “The Sea Is Asking,” we might need to have words.
Here’s the kicker though: despite all its brilliance, Silvern never quite blew up the way it should’ve. Maybe it was too weird, too niche, or maybe people weren’t ready for an album that felt more like therapy than entertainment. Either way, it’s a shame. Because at the end of the day, this record reminds you what music is supposed to do—make you feel something. Anything. Even if that something is ugly.
So yeah, give Silvern a spin. Just don’t blame me if it ruins your playlist forever. Oh, and fun fact: Paul Cook—the drummer from freaking PIL—is on this thing. How wild is that? Punk legend meets indie folk queen. Bet you didn’t see THAT coming.
