June McDoom intrigues with the dub-reggae-folk hybrid of Follow the Light

Ethereal. Hazy. Weightless. Dreamy. All these apply. But the way the heavy-lidded, reverb-laden drift of shoegaze aesthetic and vintage psych-folk melt into more robustly earthy reference points is what makes June McDoom's debut album truly intriguing.

Growing up in a Jamaican household in South Florida, McDoom was surrounded by reggae and dub (as well as earlier incarnations of Jamaican music, such as mento) throughout her childhood, and it shows. Although she's a folk-oriented songwriter – at least nominally, in the modern definition of the term where everyone with an acoustic guitar and an introspective gift for melodic soul-baring gets branded ‘folk’ – you’re never far from the hallmarks of dub reggae on Follow The Light. Sturdy, fluid basslines are often placed front and centre in the mix, and there's an echo chamber-frequenting habit of chopping and twisting sound at play throughout; see how McDoom’s multilayered vocals overlap like waves on opener “Human Angel”, for example.

Working with long-term partner Evan Wright, who plays most of the instruments, freeing McDoom to layer multiple vocal harmonies, she applies this robust rhythmic foundation to an aesthetic that combines the melodically strong directness of the singer/songwriter idiom with the pure unfiltered drama of classic soul. There are arrangements here so unashamedly, unstintingly opulent that Follow The Light could at times be mistaken for the soundtrack to a particularly lavish technicolour soundstage extravaganza from Hollywood’s distant past.

The results can be startling. “Without You” comes across like a big-haired '80s power ballad sung by a choir of fairies parked underneath a giant toadstool in an enchanted forest. Perhaps the first time a magically rippling harp has shared a spotlight with prominent dub bass, it's a heartfelt lament dripping with yearning presented like a hymn from another realm. The defiant yet soft-focus swirl of "Get Out Of My Life” is equally potent, and just as otherworldly, while the appropriately titled “Dream Dub” and gently skanking title track emphasise the reggae connection.

It’s only when the material doesn’t resonate quite as powerfully that the painstakingly crafted curation starts to slightly resemble gorging on candyfloss. Even so, Follow The Light’s unique dub-reggae-folk hybrids are an enticing broadcast from an artist boldly operating in their own sphere.