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On her third studio album and follow-up to 2022’s ‘Smiling Like An Idiot’, Irish singer-songwriter Sorcha Richardson’s‘Draw The Outline’ takes a subdued, folk-centric turn in her discography, retreating from the brighter pop sensibilities of her previous works to a more lived-in, organic sound.

The record's sonic shift reflects a major physical shift in Richardson's life: after a decade of living in New York, she moved back to Dublin, before eventually settling into a small bedroom in rural West Kerry to write the album. Located at the foot of a mountain and a short walk from the sea, the seclusive nature of Kerry is omnipresent in the sound of the record. Distant spiralling space echoes reflect off Richardson’s vocal passages like answers from the county’s peaks, and hissing tape hums throughout the track like the far-off crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Throughout the album’s opener ‘Sea Pink Moon’, Richardson establishes the natural vignettes of her native environment: the “white light morning lilies”, “jagged rocks”, and “tiny drops of violet stems” are juxtaposed against interpersonal negotiations like “I tell you this is who we are, but you don’t believe me now”. The track continually builds, and where bright synthesisers would’ve been utilised in previous records, Richardson and producer Chris W Ryan instead opt for fluttering woodwinds and pads that resonate like glass bottles. In the track’s expansive climax, backing vocals are drenched in reverb beyond discernibility, and Hammond organs glisten to create an impressionistic wall of sound for Richardson’s vocals to sit on top of.

This obvious break in her discography seems to be a conscious choice by Richardson, stating, “A lot of my previous stuff is me observing other people's conversations, or me observing my conversations with other people. A lot of this album is me observing my conversations within my own head.” This move away in focus from external conversations to internal dialogues becomes evident in the rich inner world ‘Draw The Outline’ gives the audience a glimpse into. It’s insular and reserved, as Richardson unpacks the song's subject matter tucked away in that small, reclusive bedroom.

Whilst the album prides itself on its quiet subtleties, Richardson still finds a way to maintain her dry, introspective tone on the album’s louder indie-rock cuts such as ‘Dog’s Best Man’: a confrontation with a neighbour’s dog that quickly escalates into existential fear. Apprehensive questionings like “Is this not what you wanted / Or it’s everything we are?”relapse into stubborn idioms “I like this hill / I’m gonna die on this one” over chugging electric guitars and thumping, slacker-rock drums, embellished by anthemic saxophones.

On ‘Adam (Pacing In The Park)’, Richardson tries to softly reject a “head above the stars” admirer, accompanied by tender fingerpicking guitars and a lonesome, singing clarinet. It’s one of the most earnest tracks on the album, as Richardson dances around male pride with coy empathy, performing a balancing act between assertiveness (“I know it won’t last”) and entertaining his idealisms to soften the blow (“Let him try to steal a kiss”). “Adam, I don’t think we’re going for that drink / Tell ‘em not to cut the keys,” she sings before the track falls into a toy-like electric piano outro, as Adam makes his sobering walk home alone.

In ‘Draw The Outline’, Richardson channels the old-soul introspection of Laura Marling, the icy vocal timbres of Feist, and a spiritual symbiosis with her rural environment much like that of a Hayley Heynderickx or Florist. Pining woodwinds croon over arpeggiating guitars and whirring synth pads as she meditates and passes through flickering, half-formed memories. The record follows a dream-logic structure, as Richardson floats between lucid realism and internal monologue. Perspectives shift and warp seamlessly mid-verse on tracks like ‘The Orchard’ (“Blue and green eyes in the half-light / Watching television snow / Well I could see us from the outside”), tinged with surrealism and claustrophobia-inducing recollections of lost love. 

The record closes with ‘The Video’, thick with tape-drenched fingerpicking acoustic guitars and an undeniable optimism, as beach houses, the morning sun, and the duality of “true love and Elvis” all become backdrops to blossoming romance. As Richardson repeats the refrain “I wanna be on your team”, clouds seem to clear over the record. Her tone is without hesitation or doubtful apprehension, as silky electric guitars glimmer like sunlight through the cracks, giving way to glimpses of assertion.

George Barker

@sleeportrait

Image: ‘Draw The Outline' Official Album Cover