Paris Motel is either a one woman attempt at world domination by ethereal acoustica, a 45-piece orchestra, a band or a way of life, depending on your eventual point of view. Assuming that the band is singer-songwriter Amy May and whomsoever she happens to gather about her as if a musical cloak, we can then set about unmasking the music behind the muse on this six-track EP debut.
What we find sits poisedly alongside stripped-down Saint Etienne's '60s pop married to decidedly English lyrics one minute (071), eerily develops Nick Cave's bloodlust the next (Mr Splitfoot, surely inspired by Red Right Hand) and displays some wonderful lyrical touches too, not least on the beer-fueled domestic argument reminisce that is Oh.
May's voice calls to mind those most excellent frosty damsels Sarah Cracknell and Sarah Nixey, elocuted to an especially English echelon of enunciation. Her music, beautifully arranged, feels familiar, as though - like folk songs - it's been around in our culture for an age, making us part of who we are. Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow's lovely strings ending makes it just that - sweet sorrow indeed. I for one can't wait for the album.
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