Review: Kate Rusby - Make the Light

It seems churlish, not to say a touch presumptuous, to criticise an artist for loitering in their comfort zone. Kate Rusby has made consistently lovely albums during a decade of personal ups and downs, establishing herself as a herald of folk tradition's transition back into national (sub)consciousness. She might be best known for covering the Kinks on an axed sitcom's titles - but who else has sung Elfin Knight on prime time BBC1?

This reservation notwithstanding, Make the Light is a little bit frustrating. For the first time, the album omits to include any traditional material, crediting Jam & Jerusalem scribe Jennifer Saunders for this 'good plan!' in the liner notes. So far, so fair enough, because Rusby adjusts to a full singer/songwriter role without breaking stride. Her albums have always contained original compositions so the shift itself is unremarkable and while adding charming material to a goodly repertoire, nothing new is achieved. Her flirtations with imitative faux-tradition are as pretty as hilltop follies - and perhaps as inessential as they are impressive.

However, chirpy first track The Wishing Wife - a case in point, and cousin to Awkward Annie's eponymous opener - is one of the highlights, alongside Walk the Road (a bucolic duet with spouse and strummer Damien O'Kane) and the cello-embellished Shout to the Devil, which leave lasting impressions. Unfortunately, there is something self-derivative about some of the songs that saps from Rusby's vocal purity and the proficiency of an all-new supporting cast. That this album is somehow less diverting than its predecessors means the desire for further variation is never sated.

What does differ is the tone of contentment overcoming the mournful - but this does little to shake things up, as a series of sedate songs ease unhurriedly to the album's close. Early on, Let Them Fly finds Rusby unusually political (or at least venting anger towards an anonymous politician) and her cutting gibes sting despite their unknown focus, if only for the ease of the target and her mildness elsewhere. Only Hope and Green Fields might be lullabies, intimate and soothing, while Four Stars is an elegant love song. Yet despite a subtle tension between snug security and struggle, Make the Light is ultimately just a nice record, ingrained with both the amiability and slight triteness that implies. If Rusby has plateaued, at least she's picked a beauty spot.