Aerial : Kate Bush : Review : Rolling Stone

In case you weren't yet born when Kate Bush released her last album twelve years ago, here's the lowdown: This British art-rock siren created the template for ethereal female rockers such as Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlan, doing almost everything they do -- years earlier and with more flair -- everything, that is, except sell a lot of records in America. Given Bush's protracted absence, the subtlety of her eighth studio offering seems particularly ballsy. Designed as an old-fashioned double album, Aerial offers the singer's uncharacteristically restrained vocals over acoustic chamber music, low-key electronics and the late Michael Kamen's final orchestrations. Featuring songs about Elvis, mathematics, her son and a washing machine, the first disc rarely rises above a musical whisper. The second, a conceptual work that follows nature's course from afternoon to sunrise, slowly builds via fantastically gorgeous strings, a brief smattering of Spanish guitar, one slinky protracted groove built for "Nocturne," and a duet of laughter and birdcalls on the throbbing title track. Akin to recent Antony and the Johnsons and latter-day Talk Talk, Aerial doesn't deliver anything resembling a conventional pop tune. And this suits Bush just fine.