Waterford magic without the bluster

The slow-burning subtlety of Katie Kim's latest album, 'Twelve', might never have come into existence if a computer bug hadn't wiped out 50 songs singer Katie Sullivan had been working on, she tells Jim Carroll

IT'S THE ALBUM that came out of nowhere. The simple cover has a black-and-white photograph of a young woman on it, standing with her back to a mirror. She is, you reckon, the Katie in Katie Kim. The album is called Twelve, even though there are just 10 songs on it. That's all you have to go on.

There’s no hot air, no pre-match bluster, no obscene hype, no advance notice, no press release even – some albums don’t need to avail of such dastardly machinations to make their presence felt.

Put the CD on and prepare to revel from the very first notes in the subtle, slow-burning magic you hear. Sure, there are traces of other graceful, elegant indie acts, such as PJ Harvey, Juana Molina and Grizzly Bear in what Katie Sullivan and her skilful players in Katie Kim are producing.

But more importantly than those map references, there’s a fertile imagination at work here which knows when to take a few chances with the songs and the arrangements. Such an approach produces a rake of songs which pull you closer to the speakers and make you want to know more about the act.

So where did Sullivan and Katie Kim pop up from in the first place? Astute observers of Irish music’s current DNA would probably not be too surprised to hear that Sullivan hails from Waterford, a city that is home to a host of exciting new talents. Acts such as Ugly Megan, You’re Only Massive, Deaf Animal Orchestra, Ilya K and many others have emerged from there in recent times and Sullivan is proudly part and parcel of that scene.

She first start playing music as a teenager. “I picked up the guitar when I was 14, started to write songs and, a year later, started playing small gigs and supports at home in Waterford,” she says. “Then it was years of locking myself away with my computer and recording all day between jobs. I met Terry Cullen [from Ten Speed Racer] at one of the bars I was working in and he asked me to sing with his new band.”

That band was Dae Kim, an act who provided Sullivan with her apprenticeship in what being in a band was all about.

“It was my first band experience and carried on for four glorious years of writing, recording, touring and partying,” she says.

An album was recorded and released ( Matador, 2005), which saw the band gather a gaggle of admirers for its subtle blend of slow-motion shoegazer grooves and beguiling lyrics.

After Dae Kim faded into the rear-view mirror, Sullivan turned her attention to her own songs. In between trying to help out new bands with John Haggis, the Waterford-based human dynamo behind the Granny It’s OK label, Sullivan kept writing song after song until she had about 50 recorded on her home computer.

Disaster struck in the form of a dastardly computer virus. Those songs and scraps vanished from her hard disc and there was no way to bring them back.

“It was soul-destroying, to be honest,” she says about that mishap. “Everything I had experimented with, be it releasable or not, had been wiped with one click. I was so irate and even thought about suing! But I came back down to reality and had to pick myself up, dust myself off and start again.”

THE SONGS ONthe debut album came from those second sessions when Sullivan willed herself to start all over again.

"I've come to the realisation that things happen and you have to deal with them," she says. " Twelvemight not be the album that it is now if that had not happened – and I'm very proud of Twelve.

“I have a pretty short attention span and get bored easily, so I can’t say that the songs that were wiped would have ended up on the album anyway. It was for nostalgic reasons that I was so upset about the loss, because those songs came from certain parts of my life. With the new album, I just messed around with melodies and they were quite spontaneous. It was the mixing that took the most time and attention.”

After a limited release and a short tour last autumn to get the word out (a push which brought her to the attention of many radio stations and publications), Twelveis now about to get a bigger, broader promotion in Ireland.

Sullivan, though, is not about to take it all in or use the attention to put another tour together. At the start of this year, she moved to Toronto.

“I have some ideas and I wanted to take a quick break and just step outside for a while,” she says. “I adore my band, so I don’t know how long I’ll be out of Ireland, but it was important to me to be able to step outside the box and be able to take a breather.

“I really just want to be in a different space and be around new faces, walk down different streets and play in different venues. As anywhere, there are some amazing people over here and all is going well at the moment. I’m recording a lot and coming up with lots of ideas. Taking notes!”

Being away, though, doesn’t mean that Sullivan won’t be able to continue collaborating with like-minded souls. She’s already worked with Ten Past Seven, Cars In Walls, Parisian producer Shoid, David Kitt, SPR and Eskimoux.

“I’m contributing to some stuff with Mike Scott from the Waterboys at the moment,” she adds.

For now, though, Sullivan is just taking it all in, whether she’s in Waterford or Toronto.

“I want to immerse myself in everything over the next few years,” she says. “That might be a bit vague, but there’s too much to think about to even think about dates for the next release or tour. But relaxing isn’t on the cards.”

Twelve

is on Granny It’s OK Records.

More information at www.myspace.com/dancekatiekimdance