For much of its incubation, Blue Morpho went untitled. It wasn’t until Tõnu Kõrvits – who arranged the album’s strings – took a liking to the song of the same name that Ed O’Brien considered it the perfect, most deeply indicative title.
Nothing synonymises growth quite like the butterfly. I’m not knocking caterpillars – I wouldn’t dare – but the creature’s semi-assumptive vulnerability is akin to Ed’s musical infancy, at least where his solo career is concerned.
Ed release his solo debut – 2020’s Earth – under the name EOB. Whether too shy to put himself out there, or too cripplingly self-aware to be perceived simple as ‘one of the guys from Radiohead’, there was an insecurity to Ed’s former which, unfortunately, rubbed off on his music.
He was afraid of ensuing Radiohead comparisons on Blue Morpho itself, which expectedly features a number of Radiohead-isms, but I’d gladly chalk that up to Ed’s guitar-playing being far more vital to the band’s innovations than most who want Jonny Greenwood or nothing would have you believe.
Phil Selway – Radiohead’s drummer – does play on two tracks, but these are Ed’s landscapes, Ed’s transformations, nonlinear and nonuniform. And yes, the music is equally as transformative as the title.
Incantations is all movement; initially hushed, but with quakes left by even its smallest keyboards; somehow, we’re carted off to much wider landscapes, as Hindustani hand drums pile and harmonies chant wordless mantras.
The strings of the title track are akin to a butterfly’s metamorphosis; a balanced, unassuming process into a sudden, intense growth that startles as much as it melodises. These are Ed’s most thrilling embellishments; heartbreaking yet idyllic.
Obrigado’s journeying is ritualistic, though it becomes more and more tuneful, then more and more dynamic. Here’s the process: melodies extend in a purer verse-chorus format, strange backing voices intensify, string arrangements charge, and then suddenly, we find ourselves at a David Gilmour-esque serene blues rock instrumental.
The tracks noted above appear early and late in the tracklist. In the middle, the album finds itself in transition; its cocoon period. Teachers comprises beautifully uncomfortable drumbeats and hazy vibes, like Weird Fishes / Arpeggi without the staggering highs. Solfeggio is a keyboard frenzy. Thin Places is a flute frenzy.
The album itself symbolises Ed’s maturation, from depression to now, from insecurity to letting go and encouraging the ideas that threaten him most. His fears of Radiohead’s evocation hold no warranty, especially if said evocation sounds like Sweet Spot; a zombie-staring, descending minor key picked in his signature style, sort of like if Radiohead did Stairway to Heaven.
I will now forego my original closing paragraph about Blue Morpho’s worth as a ‘Radiohead folk album’, because Ed’s beast is too self-reflective to promote such dwellings. With his second album, Ed O’Brien has every reason to feel confident, to hold his own creativity dear, to embrace the butterfly.
Best track – Blue Morpho.
Rating – 7 out of 10
