Brighton based singer song-writer Hayley Chillcott shows us the true meaning of heartbreak and home in her latest E.P.
YOU know, sometimes it’s OK to feel sad. Sometimes you just need a moment or two to slow down and reflect, or even get lost for a while in homesickness, and Hayley Chillcott knows this.
In-between a collage of humble guitar melodies, and crying lyrics, Chillcott flicks through a photo album of bittersweet memories to create this woefully beautiful E.P. Every song seems to introduce another layer to the sadness perfectly, offering the occasional taste of euphoria.
Hope is scattered sporadically into every fibre of A lot like home. With welcoming guitars and cheery vocal melodies, the song offers up an optimistic view that tempts the listener to sway along with the tune. But this glory is short-lived as another track drifts into earshot.
“I feel lonely, so I grab her hand,” Chillcott’s distant voice recalls as the weeping guitar behind her draws us into a solemn state during the song known as Circles. It’s eerie tone is far more electric, creating the essence of a dim rainy night in the middle of town as you’re on the way home from a breakup. As each note subtly detunes, practically drowning in reverb, the feeling becomes a twinge in your stomach. It’s raw.
The musicality here takes you to place of crippling agony, with somber drum beats that hobble down the street with you on your journey. So wrapped up in defeat, You almost stumble, but the steady rhythms pick you up gently, helping you to your feet again.
A soft breaking light of vocals seems to stream its rays into the polaroid of a song. A delicate airy voice sweetly breaks as it reaches for a feeling of happiness, during Circles, but it suddenly loses grip and drops onto the cold floor below, grasping at anything remnants it can to break its fall. You can’t help but think of Ellie Goulding almost, but the fingerpicking on guitar and weaving of notes paint in their own ode to Passenger and folk.
Chillcott swiftly flicks to another simple page of images as Better off that way is introduced to your ears. One of the pictures is foggy and difficult to focus on but, as you zoom in, you get a better view, She’s on the side of the road singing her aria as people walk by on a misty autumn afternoon. The wind dances along the horizon, holding hands with a tumultuous grey cloud, as it pulls along the temptation of rain. But Chillcott couldn’t give a care as she plays her tune. She’s recalling memories with each pluck of a note, and tears steam down from the sky. It’s the sound of the soft and subtle breaking of a heart.
There’s this unshakeable sense of familiarity in the E.P. Woven into songs like Better off that way, is the remarkable feeling that you’ve experienced every single flick of sadness that she plays. It’s almost as though her guitar is made from strings of the heart, because each song has a way of speaking to you directly. But she delicately strums them, with great care, so as not to tear them to shreds. It’s such a simple sound, but it really hits at the very core of your heart.
As a cold gust of hope that grazes your face in the midst of a cold autumn’s afternoon – the entire collection of heartbroken melodies, encapsulates that feeling of longing and homesickness. Sorrow frequently drips in tears from the guitars, into a misty lake of reflection. Almost like a cloud, her delicate vocal breaks up an icy blue sky of strings and shy piano, to reveal the desperate sun glowing in-between. There’s a struggling sense of hope in each song, and it’s trying so hard to shoulder its way into the dark scene of pain. But it’s beautiful to hear.
Chillcott just creates a rare amalgamation of authenticity and catchiness, which is injected into an otherwise commercial song formula; there’s the basic verse chorus structure, but the songs feel real, as though they’re about your own memories. It’s such a sophisticated and refined quality, that is not difficult to fall in love with.
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