Do look back: harpist Catrin Finch's 'Notes to Self'

Interior musical meditations on life and art pulls on the harp strings

share this article

'It’s a journey that encompasses the rigours of becoming a master of her art'

Catrin Finch has been at the top her field for a long time now. The Welsh harpist was appointed to the ancient office of Royal Harpist by Prince Charles in 2000, was nominated for a Classical Brit Award in 2004 and her World Music collaborations with Seckou Keita resulted in their winning the 2019 BBC Radio 2 Folk Award for Best Duo. 

After her three acclaimed albums with Keita, she released the striking Double You with Irish fiddler and classical violinist Aoife Ni Bhrian in 2023. And now, striking out with her first solo album in a decade, she turns to her self – in fact, to her 13-year-old self – in this beautiful set of pieces accompanied by short pieces of prose in the form of letters to herself, and archive family photos that focus on the young Katrin, and her growth and personal journey. It’s a journey that encompasses the rigours of becoming a master of her art, a 40-year career in classical and world music, as well as being a cancer survivor, a mother, sister, daughter and gay woman, and a creative force who has mesmerised audiences worldwide. 

It opens with “13”, a high, glistening array of binary notes expanding into a subtle, overarching melody that opens its wings on a lead line that could be a vocal. “Adre” follows, with its subtle background ambiance of what sounds like electronic washes and percussions, all drawn from her harp. Further in, “Black Holes” has an underlay of tappings, scrapings and other abstract sounds roused from her instrument like a roomful of sleepy bodies stretching up, and over that an echo-filled, pulsing architecture rises up and populates its own sound cosmos. 

So it goes across the album’s 11 pieces. Self-reflecting and introspective as they are, her subtlety of composition and improvisation, and her assuredness of hand when she plays, ensures that these interior musical monologues addressed to the self become conversations with the listener, reflecting the interplay of strings and the intensity of their conversation.

Tim Cumming's website

Add comment

The content of this field is kept private and will not be shown publicly.
Name that you would like to appear as the author of the comment
These interior musical monologues addressed to the self become conversations with the listener

rating

4

share this article

Help secure the future of arts journalism

In this era of algorithmic recommendation, opaquely sponsored content and AI slop, theartsdesk’s mission to preserve real journalistic and critical values has never been more important.

If you like what you see here, please join us 
in this mission.

Subscribing to the site will help us in our coming 
redesign and expansion.


If you do this before the 31st August this will be at our guaranteed founder’s rate: 
your subs will never increase again.

Subscribe now for £5 per month. 
or yearly for just £40.

Or if you simply want to support us with a one-off donation, you can do so here.

more new music

The welcome return of a foundational album of electronic minimalism
Surrealism, social observation and more muscular sound from the Leeds quartet
A powerful personal outpouring of joy and pain - with a great beat
The London quartet have taken to playing large venues with ease, as this career-spanning set showed
The Philadelphia punk rockers continue to impress
A partial account of how Brit-punk absorbed an aspect of reggae
The Fez Festival Of World Sacred Music and the Fes Gathering bring the world together
Bristol band aren't happy but offer up the occasional sing-along
A new album is unveiled and old tunes are played for the last time