Jim White and Trey Blake’s Precious Bane is an album steeped in shadow and resilience, a collaboration born from happenstance but carried by a shared artistic vision. White, long an outsider in the Americana scene, and Blake, a Brighton-based artist navigating the world through a neurodivergent lens, weave together a collection of songs that feel both ancient and otherworldly. Drawing inspiration from Mary Webb’s 1924 novel of the same name, the album unfolds as a meditation on love, loss, and the ghosts we carry—both real and imagined.
Musically, Precious Bane is a dense and cinematic work, layered with cello, woodwinds, and bowed bass that create an atmosphere of unease and longing. The opener, “Ghost Song,” finds White at his introspective best, his voice drifting like a man lost at sea: “I tried to swim back home, but there was always / Something pulling on me, just pulling on me.” This sense of yearning echoes through Blake’s “Rushing in Waves,” a song about love’s impermanence that carries a stark and almost prophetic weight: “Love comes when it ain’t called / Goes when it’s still wanted / Leaving nothing at all.” The dialogue between these two voices—sometimes harmonizing, sometimes clashing—gives the record its restless energy.
While the album is often dark, it’s never stagnant. “His Lady” stands out as a spectral waltz, with Blake’s voice cutting through the fog like a warning: “Not every man who tells you / You are beautiful will stay.” The nearly eight-minute “Tumbleweed Time” unfolds at a slow burn, chronicling a soul unmoored by love, seeking solace in the vastness of the unknown. White and Blake, despite recording oceans apart, create a seamless world where heartache and redemption feel like two sides of the same weathered coin.
Amongst the sorrow, there are flickers of defiant hope. “The Long Road Home” carries a battered but unbroken spirit, its twisted gratitude a reminder that survival is its own kind of victory: “Let me thank my friends who died young from drugs / Friends, you did not die in vain.” It’s in these moments that Precious Bane transcends its gothic Americana trappings and becomes something timeless—an album that lingers, haunts, and ultimately, heals. – Jason Felton