Apport Vinyl & CDs

Review: Hailing from South London, Patrick Wolf's seventh album unfurls with the sound of wind buffeting coastal cliffs and gently recedes with a hymn to the sea fog. The intervening tracks chart a course through grief, folklore, and ritual, woven with strings, synthesisers, and a vocal timbre that carries the weight of experience. Marking his return with his first full-length in over a decade, Wolf delves into the traditions of East Kent and the pagan Wheel of the Year. He conjures a landscape steeped in liminality, harvest, and mortality, resonating with both personal loss and ancient myth. ‘Dies Irae’, featuring the poignant vocals of his sister Jo Apps, centres on their mother's passing with devastating clarity, while ‘Limbo’ (with Zola Jesus) transitions into a stormy, cinematic realm. ‘The Curfew Bell’ echoes his earlier chamber-pop sensibilities, now imbued with a newfound restraint, while ‘Lughnasa’ (featuring Serafina Steer) and ‘Song Of The Scythe’ tap into deeper, more elemental undercurrents. Across all thirteen tracks, Wolf navigates confidently between orchestral grandeur and stark minimalism, seamlessly blending field recordings with folk revival elements. The result is a record that feels simultaneously ancient and futuristic—as if unearthed from the soil, blessed by the moon and cast out to sea. This album stands as his most conceptually vivid work to date, and perhaps, most profoundly, his most human.