Album Review: Jo Quail - Notan (2025, Adderstone Records)
- Stuart Ball
- 4 hours ago
- 5 min read
Written: 19th August 2025
Internationally acclaimed composer and cellist Jo Quail has been playing solo since 2010. I first became aware of her music having seen her support Wardruna on more than one occasion – the last being at the Royal Albert Hall earlier this year (review here). Notan – drawing its name from the Japanese concept that explores the interplay of light and dark – is her seventh album. It began in June 2023 as a series of raw, looped improvisations but eventually evolved into a symphonic piece entitled Ianus – now destined for recording with a full orchestra in late 2025. Notan is not the orchestral vision, but the root from which it grew: solo renderings – that draw out the original compositions’ majesty and their quiet intimacy.
Butterfly Dance – the heaviest track here - opens the album. A commanding piece, it begins with mysterious, foreboding sounds that display an atmosphere of regality and control. With elements that would not be out of place on some doom metal albums, the first true notes of the piece bring Black Sabbath’s Iron Man to mind with their rapidly descending ominous tones. It is inspired by the story of La Mariposa which embodies matriarchal authority. Building dramatically and wonderfully, the six minute piece brings a grandiose feeling of wisdom and authority to the fore without ever falling into pomposity. Quail’s use of intensity is never overplayed and the range of sounds she elicits from her chosen instruments is quite mind boggling. Sometimes it is easy to forget that the entire album was played on just cello, electric cello and piano. Butterfly Dance is a formidable opening statement, announcing the album’s ambition with an authority that is impossible to ignore.
Second track Rex might be familiar to those who have followed Jo Quail for some time. Originally called Rex Infractus, it was the first track on her debut album: From The Sea. Having seen her play this track live in March of this year, it is a joy to have a full recording of this piece. In its first incarnation, Rex was a piece of fragility and grace, performed live for a time before being retired from her setlist. She comments, “It’s a piece I’ve returned to in live performance, and over time, it’s evolved and reshaped itself. This version is something quite different: a reimagining that feels both familiar and entirely new. I’m really proud to be releasing it now.” Revisited during the first lockdown of the pandemic, it took on a new life during which an entirely new second section emerged. Gloriously colossal, low notes begin the odyssey that is Rex; a piece that, over nine and a half minutes, shows the confidence Quail has to let her music breathe and grow organically. During the first three minutes, a feeling of darkness, exploration and the unknown ahead draws us ever closer. After this, a repeating motif steadily brings more light to the piece and her use of looping technology begins to build layers of intricate, interweaving music. If possible, the final two minutes of Rex raise the stakes even further. It is an utterly intoxicating piece that demands close attention and rewards repeated listening. Her musical virtuosity is as evident here as anywhere on the album. It is one of the most darkly beautiful pieces of music you will hear this year.
The third track, A Leaf and Then A Key, showcases Jo Quail exploring the full expressive range of her acoustic cello. In contrast to the stately grandeur of Rex and Butterfly Dance, this piece feels more intimate and exposed. The use of space is striking; the opening passages steeped in yearning. As the tempo builds and the notes shorten toward the close, a palpable sense of momentum and urgency emerges. Every note is purposeful, reinforcing Quail’s meticulous control and emotional clarity.
Embrace – another piece she played at the Royal Albert Hall when supporting Wardruna in March – explores further emotions with the opening giving the impressions of initial stirrings of life during the Spring time. It is the most meditative piece on Notan, and as Jo Quail noted during that live performance, it speaks softly yet with depth to the invisible thread that connects us all — a reflection on interconnectedness and the quiet bonds that hold us together, even in solitude. The work unfolds with a beguiling slowness, a restraint that ultimately strengthens its impact. The gentle, undulating flow draws the listener into a near-hypnotic state. Each rise and fall of the notes is deliberate and mesmerising, inviting deep reflection, and making it one of the album’s most captivating moments.
The fifth track, First Rain, is an interesting and welcome surprise. For the first time on any album, Jo Quail sets aside the cello and performs solely on piano. At just under three minutes, it is the shortest piece on Notan, a reflective and slow-moving composition that invites the listener to pause and breathe. A quiet optimism runs through it, carrying a sense of renewal and the anticipation of better things ahead. The rain of the title is rendered as something tender and life-giving, falling lightly and refreshingly, as though washing over the soul and offering a moment of quiet restoration. Quite spellbinding.
Maintaining the album’s variety, the closing track Kingfisher offers something different again, its joyous character bursting with vibrancy and colour, much like the striking plumage of the bird from which it takes its name. There is a sense of motion throughout the piece, the cello lines darting and sweeping as if echoing the bird’s rapid flight across water. At times, the music plunges like a kingfisher diving for food, sharp and purposeful, before rising again with a renewed lightness and grace. Quail’s playing captures not only the brilliance of the bird’s colours but also its energy, agility, and sheer vitality. The result is a composition alive with movement and texture, one that radiates exhilaration and a sense of euphoria. It closes the album on a note of brightness and celebration, leaving the listener uplifted and invigorated.
Notan truly showcases Jo Quail’s extraordinary command of her instruments and her fearless creativity. The album brims with imagination, depth, and contrast, moving effortlessly from delicate subtleties to moments of striking force. Listeners from a range of musical backgrounds including classical, rock, metal and ambient will find something compelling here - whether they are drawn to dynamic soundscapes, atmospheric textures, or unexpected rhythmic energy. It is a work that defies categorisation, demonstrating that the cello can be as daring, expressive, and exhilarating as any ensemble. A remarkable album.
Notan is released on 12th September 2025
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