Jamie Woon has become something of a musical chameleon, warping and slipping into different guises with each of his offerings. Mirrorwriting does indeed exhibit many of Woon’s finer moments as his soulful tones arrest with a real heated elegance and poise. There is, however, a certain distinction to be made between the singer-songwriter who made his delicate stamp with Wayfaring Stranger almost four years ago, and the Woon we know now with his rather giddy and feverish R&B licks.
This album is peppered with some of his greater vocal moments, when he still retained some of that intriguing allure where Burial had left traces of his mysterious touch, yet there are less touching moments which seem to completely sabotage the aura of precious intimacy that he had carved out. Night Air propelled Woon into the spotlight, but although we were stunned with its airless, wooziness – as one of the UKs mystery-shrouded producers lent his production genius to an impressive end - no sooner did it get buried beneath a much more commercially-viable sound.
As the prelude to this collection, Night Air marks the beginning of his journey, but with Street soon following after, I begin to question my earlier infatuations; it sounds like he’s just placed an alright vocal over a dubstep beat and it’s not really doing anything for me. However, scarce are these occasions and with tracks such as Spirits and Gravity, Woon is able to redeem himself. Spirals tends to the ears with delicate caress - his sultry vocals sleekly sitting below a bed of wood-block patters and shuffles - before slipping into a meaty half-time break-core beat, gaining it immediate appeal. He doesn’t make a secret of his warbling ability and, although at times it becomes rather gaudy at times, here he's able to exhibit not only his vocal aplomb but his ear for transforming a dated rhythm into something fresh and enticing.
Ethereal moments of paucity and pockets of empty noise are scattershot across the entirety of this record, giving it depth and even momentum; and much like any fine artist, Woon has chosen these interludes carefully and with great precision. Secondbreath sparkles with the experimental touch of a Four Tet track, gently stumbling through quiet, abating twitches and flourishes. Gravity follows to perfection with its echoing resonance, immediately arresting, much like a certain James Blake, mesmerising and hypnotising in time with his undulating words.
It’s hard to define Woon by genre but what’s more pertinent is his captivating ability to warm our hearts and blend the sometimes garish urban melodies with indie-tinged vocals, and to be able to do so (almost) without fail. It’s a well rounded album, but it certainly marks a transformation into something completely different to the Woon we once knew.