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PJ Harvey declares 'Let England Shake'

PJ Harvey, “Let England Shake” (Vagrant)

Anyone left standing around waiting for PJ Harvey to re-emerge as the screaming banshee she was in the 1990s should just move along.

Her latest album, “Let England Shake,” should make it clear — if the rest of her output in the 2000s hasn't already — that she's charting a different path, never to return to the proto-rock sound that so electrified rock ‘n' roll at a time when it desperately needed a kick in the pants.

Even by Polly Jean Harvey's standard, “Let England Shake” is a wild departure from almost anything we've seen before from the British singer. Her eighth record is always interesting, at turns beautiful and bewildering. It is an inspiring attempt to make something more than transitory art in 4 minutes or less. This is unique and ageless and permanent.

“Let England Shake” is the always thought-provoking Harvey's way of reflecting the ills of her country as it founders in a new millennium. This is no protest album and there is no preaching to the masses.

On the title-track opener she declares “England's dancing days are done ...,” and then launches into a withering deconstruction of the once great empire. Rather than rail at the masters of war as a young Dylan did, though, she paints pictures of outcomes and end results from decisions made by those forces.

She sings of “deformed children” as the “glorious fruit of our land” on “The Glorious Land.” On “The Words That Maketh Murder” she sings “I have seen and done things I want to forget” and goes on to describe the horrors of war.

Her portraits of England and its place in the world — past and present — are dark and bleak and have the feel of history. And truth.

They leave more questions than they answer: Do these songs resonate in Harvey's home country? Do they stir shame in the heart of the blind patriot? Do they rouse the rabble? Is this a heroic and subversive protest album or a Stygian travelogue for the discontent?

In the end, Harvey as usual ends up accomplishing what very few of her peers can do these days: She's making us think.

Check this out: With longtime collaborators Flood, Mick Harvey and John Parish on board, every song is musically rich and interesting, so let's head into unusual territory here and highlight “Written on the Forehead.” It's the least conventional song here, a fever dream of an apocalyptic vision that's punctuated by a “Blood & Fire” sample from Winston “Niney the Observer” Holness and the haunting chorus, “Let it burn, let it burn ... .”