Yesterday, on Shelleyan Orphan’s Facebook page, it was announced that the band’s co-founder and vocalist Caroline Crawley had passed away. Details are scant, other than, according to her longtime bandmate Jemaur Tayle, that her death came “after a long illness.” Though Shelleyan Orphan never became anywhere near a household name during their tenure, even after a memorable 1987 appearance on the British music TV show “The Tube” and a long stint opening for the Cure during the summer of 1989, they never failed to leave an impression upon listeners.
The group made postmodern psychedelic folk-pop with a heavy use of string ensembles and other traditional instrumentation like the cor anglais and the hurdy gurdy. Amid their unusual musical textures, the very core of Shelleyan Orphan’s sound was Crawley’s singing. Her voice had an unnerving clarity that never became showy or brash. She instead stuck to a calm, bell-like tone that often pitched and glided through her band’s work like a bird in flight.
The distinctiveness of Crawley’s voice is aided by the fact that her personal discography is surprisingly slim. Outside of the four albums she made with Shelleyan Orphan and the sole LP by her other band Babacar, her singing has appeared only a handful of times on other recordings. But when it does, it leaves an instant and lasting mark. For both her fans and those unfamiliar with Crawley, here’s a look at some of her most memorable vocal turns.
Shelleyan Orphan — “Epitaph, Ivy & Woe”
Crawley and Tayle met in Bournemouth in 1980, bonding over a mutual love of Nick Drake and Romantic poets like Percy Bysshe Shelley, whose name informed the moniker for their own musical project. Eventually moving to London and putting together a small ensemble, they scored some plum but perhaps unusual gigs given their gentle stylings, like the time they opened for the Jesus & Mary Chain in 1984. It was at that show that they captured the attention of Geoff Travis, who signed the group to Rough Trade.
Their first singles for the label, along with their 1987 debut LP Helleborine, quickly set the template for the group, with baroque strings and woodwinds buttressing the blend of Crawley and Tayle’s voices presenting flowery lyrics (“Arise from Valhalla’s hall/Catacomb vaulted tomb’s beloved sleeping room”). They also wisely left room for Crawley to show off her abilities as a vocalist, as in this album cut where she takes a jazzy wordless solo that can induce goosebumps.
Shelleyan Orphan — “Shatter”
The small breakthroughs that Shelleyan Orphan had didn’t come until the release of their second album, 1989’s Century Flower. That LP helped cement Robert Smith’s love for the band and his decision to bring them on the Cure’s long tour through Europe and North America in support of Disintegration. But they also made a nice dent in the alternative rock-centric world of college radio and MTV’s “120 Minutes,” where lead single “Shatter” was in heavy rotation.
“Shatter” couldn’t help but stand out amid the strains of “Monkey Gone To Heaven” and Green-era R.E.M. The song pulses and swoons with staccato rhythms and a soaring sax solo by former Dexy’s Midnight Runners member Geoff Blythe. Crawley stays true to the song’s poetic ode to orgasmic bliss by starting off dreamy and contented before spending the last moments leaping octaves, sounding as if sheer joy is plundering her of all control.
This Mortal Coil — “Late Night”
Among the many folks within the music industry who fell under the sway of Crawley’s voice was Ivo Watts-Russell, the founder of 4AD Records. He was so enamored with her singing that she wound up being one of the few people not associated with the label to participate in his mercurial dream-pop supergroup, This Mortal Coil.
Crawley appears throughout the final This Mortal Coil album, 1991’s Blood, lending her voice to one original song and a trio of distinctive covers, including a lovely take on Mary Margaret O’Hara’s “Help Me Lift You Up.” But where she has the strongest effect is on this version of a Syd Barrett tune, from the early Pink Floyd vocalist’s debut solo effort. Watts-Russell and musician Jon Turner replace the rattling percussion and slide guitar of the original with a simple haunting drone over which Crawley wrenches every ounce of emotion from the lovelorn lyrics and melody.
Shelleyan Orphan — “Little Death”
On their third album Humroot, Shelleyan Orphan start flirting with more traditional pop structures with the help of post-punk producer Bill Buchanan and Cure drummer Boris Williams (Crawley’s then-boyfriend). While that occasionally found the group tamping down their classical and folk leanings on songs like “Burst” and “Dead Cat,” they were at their best when they found a rich middle ground. Case in point: This jaunty cut, which makes wonderful use of the hurdy gurdy and a bobbing bassline from Roberto Soave. As ever, Crawley provides the emotional core of the song with a breathy vocal turn that feels as warm as the bathwater and sunshine she sings of indulging in.
Spiritualized — “The Slide Song”
Following Shelleyan Orphan’s 1993 dissolution, Crawley kept relatively quiet for a number of years, popping up infrequently as a guest vocalist on other people’s recordings. While that meant a spotlight turn on “I’m on Fire,” a downtempo track found on electronic producer Josh Wink’s 1998 album Hearhere, she was served best on this tune from Pure Phase, the second studio effort by Spiritualized. Crawley’s contributions are minimal, but crucial. Floating among the keyboard drones and heavily processed guitar melodies, she harmonizes with leader Jason Pierce on a call-and-response vocal that brings to life the song’s expressions of bone-deep exhaustion and soulful longing.
Babacar — “Mantra”
In the late ‘90s, Crawley formed Babacar, a new group featuring Soave and Williams, as well as another former member of the Cure, Porl Thompson. Eventually her former Shelleyan Orphan partner Tayle joined the fold, but he seemed to contented to take a supporting role during Babacar’s brief existence. That left the focus almost completely on Crawley, who responded with some positively breathtaking vocal work. One of her finest moments can be found on this hypnotic Middle Eastern-inspired number. With just small touches of vibrato, she reveals the spiritual yearnings within this otherwise earthbound melody.
Shelleyan Orphan — “Beamheart”
Crawley spent much of her time following the disintegration of Babacar happily housebound and raising her young daughter. But she never got too far away from music or her longtime collaborator Tayle, who lived right next door to her in Bath, England. That naturally led to the pair reigniting their dormant project for live performances and what would become their final album together, 2008’s We Have Everything We Need. The years were kind to Crawley’s voice. She lost a bit of the high end but gained an audible robustness that gave a bluesy bent to songs, like this particularly moving track. The rest of the LP was just as tuneful, leaving fans and critics hopeful for the renewed project’s future. Hearing it now only adds to the sadness of knowing that the voice at the center of it all was quieted too early.
