When Brits-garlanded producer Trevor Horn offered his services to Belle & Sebastian, his masterplan wasn't to sculpt them into some oddball indie backing band for his earlier protégé Seal, but to record their heaven-sent melodies to a higher studio standard than they were accustomed. Ditto Steve Albini, the man who spends days mic'ing up a drumkit before he records a single note, who allows the end product to sound as uncluttered and pure as possible. When Albini recorded Polly Harvey's second album, the still-devastating "Rid Of Me", he was accused of manipulating her sound and a collection of the original 4-track demos was swiftly released to appease the 'purists'.
Albini had simply recorded Polly – raw yawped vocals, earthily sexual lyrics and rudimentary blues guitar and all – as she was… but it was all a little too much. So, subsequent albums saw her become more musically accomplished and better dressed, under the tutelage of U2's manager, culminating in her winning the Mercury Music Prize for the bland, disappointing "Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea". "Uh Huh Her" attempts to redress the balance. Within are songs that could have cropped up on "Rid Of Me" or even debut "Dry", primal compositions that sometimes sit awkwardly beneath cleanly mixed guitar effects. (The sleeve provides a visual back-to-basics: a series of photographic self-portraits from every notable period of Polly's performing life, through the catsuits and make-up, hoop earrings and designer freebies to today, where she's seemingly morphed into Karen O's mum.)
"Uh Huh Hur" is an uneven array of old style-Peej songs that range from Hardy heroine-esque wedding-angst ("Pocket Knife") to shouty bad-man anthems that recall early single "Sheela-Na-Gig" ("Who The Fuck?", "Shame"). Radio-friendly single "The Letter" is misdirection for the album as a whole; actual highlights include the stripped-down ballad "The Desparate (sic) Kingdom of Love" and the almost atonal "Cat On The Wall" with its addictive refrain of "Turn off the radio!" The wistful instrumental (talk is cheap?) "The End" is dedicated to the insanely narcissistic actor/director/would-be auteur Vincent Gallo, who Polly was rumoured to be dating last year.
With several songs barely two minutes long and half less than three there's a feeling of this being an unfinished symphony, a train of thoughts in search of a conclusion (and, often, a chorus), but it's truly intriguing in the way PJ albums haven't been since the commanding "To Bring You My Love" back in 1995. Whether "Uh Huh Her" will achieve a stealth manoeuvre onto the iPods of awards-watchers remains to be seen. What it undoubtedly does is remind you why PJ Harvey mattered so much in the grunge and Britpop-ridden days of the early 90s, and why she might just be the voice of reason again amid a cacophonic babel of ringtones.
