Dove Ellis steps out on Blizzard

A visit to Ellis’ charming and scrappily assembled Bandcamp page takes you to uniquely collaged CD mixtapes of folky demos, many shorter than a minute, but a profundity emanates from beneath the fuzz. His Instagram contains very little besides tour dates – some are solo headline shows, others are support slots for skyrocketing names like Geese. On YouTube, there’s a half-hour performance with a live band at Brixton’s Windmill, the home of the plethora of innovative British guitar bands, with numerous comments saying “big things are coming for him.” Otherwise, there’s virtually nothing revealing online about this hard-working one-man troubadour.

Ellis is on the fringe of recognition, but Blizzard is his big, anticipated commitment to stepping over to the other side: Earning acclaim to his name. When Black Country, New Road drip-fed their first singles while playing the Windmill, there was a hunch that they were phenoms in the making. Ellis hearkens back to this very excitement – the Windmill springboarding the young minds defining this decade’s arty rock music. Yet, Ellis transcends these parallels – practically all his moving music was made by his hand. He stands as a sole phenomenon.

The music does the talking. Opener “Little Left Hope” presents Ellis collaging his spirited sound palette in real time: Intimate plucking and soft drums, with perky strings expertly woven in, altogether radiating a sincere tenderness. His soulful voice alone is incredibly affecting – the obvious answer is a cross between Thom Yorke and Jeff Buckley. It can’t be glossed over: Ellis’ often heart-rending cadence resembles a fusion of the two, but whenever his stunning falsetto soars over standout larger-than-life songs “Pale Song” and “Love Is”, you can’t help but marvel at his excellent, heady vocal control.

The fuzz caked like dust onto Ellis’ demo mixtape has been cleaned off on Blizzard thanks to its proper mix and production job, allowing his extraordinary flirtations with folk music to shine. Gorgeous acoustics underpin the triumphant “Love Is”, an impactful backdrop for Ellis to share words of wisdom about misplaced solutions: “Love is not the antidote to all your problems.” Americana guitar licks on “When You Tie Your Hair Up” recall Sea Change-era Beck, and so does his straightforward yearning for a past partner: “Annie, won’t you come back into my home again.” “Jaundice” is a jubilant jig, a homage to Irish traditional music, and a collection of cryptic lines about abandonment and being othered, all at once.

Some momentum does fade as the liveliest tunes are reserved for the first half. The second half is dominated by beautiful, albeit samey, acoustic balladry. Nevertheless, Ellis’ journey manages to come full circle with the closer, a studio rerecording of “To the Sandals”. This polished take is exactly what early adopters were hearing. Ellis’ pained voice tells a story of a failed shotgun marriage in Cancún. Even without that context, he paints an intense picture of a fractured relationship barely keeping it together, despite outsiders viewing it as perfect. Every robust twang is a stab in the heart, a reminder of this wearying, broken dynamic, and the swelling sax wails insist everything’s crumbling down.

All this talent makes you wonder: Where did Ellis come from? Scouring the internet will have you convinced he suddenly appeared out of nowhere. His vigorous local gigging likely helped him go around by word of mouth. His secrecy doesn’t translate as performative, though, but as authentic instead – the success may actually be one of his lowest priorities. Blizzard is already adorned with an exhaustive musical tapestry, and there’s still plenty of room for Ellis to evolve. If this is his first foray into the spotlight, Ellis is poised to be idolised.