What does Bruno Bavota+Chantal Acda sound like?

Devastatingly understated acoustic folk pop.

The review of ‘Safer Places’ by Bruno Bavota+Chantal Acda

Chantal Acda has been creating quietly devastating folk pop for many years, and she has a knack for taking simple ideas and letting them blossom and grow into something beautiful. Part of Chantal’s appeal is her laboured yet soft vocals. Her vocals remind me of Lou Rhodes (Lamb), where the softest whisper sounds like an exhausted sigh, and the louder pushes sound like Acda could break. Joining her for this album is pianist and composer Bruno Bavota, providing piano and occasional synth and drum machine support to the acoustic guitar and vocals. This is their second album together, after the great ‘A Closer Distance‘ in 2022.

Whilst I’m not sure who did what for this album, ‘Safer Places’ is a grower, not a shower. Most of the ten tracks start off as a small motif, melody, or loop, and then they ripple out and grow in stature to the song’s finale. ‘Real’ is based on a four-chord piano riff and a floaty pulsing synth that gets bassier and louder as the song moves towards its climax. Chantal’s vocals twist from soothing and tentative into something more empowered and firm. Whether it’s the acoustic guitar finger-work and the duelling vocals of ‘A Part of Me’, or the acoustic pop hooks of ‘Hold On’, the album is built on slowly turning up the heat on each track until the pin is pulled, and the song dissipates. It’s a satisfying listen. This all plays into my love for sad piano songs that can still run at a canter, too.

A hallmark of Chantal Acda has been her uncluttered sound design, and Bruno Bavota respects space and silence in a similar way. Minimalism doesn’t mean empty, as the title track best showcases. ‘Safer Places’ is mostly a two-chord motif ballad for the verses, with a descending chord pattern for the chorus. After each piano phrase, Bruno pauses to let a distant, reversed and distorted vocal pattern float on by. It is beautifully done. The lyrics of the album are about different ways of finding safety in the world. Sometimes it’s quite literal. Elsewhere, it’s about the feeling of taking control of your life or taking a stance on something. Whilst the musical vibe is sad, the lyrics themselves are often quite hopeful. That allows for excellent tracks like ‘Left On Brakes’ to speed along with warming brass in the background like a comforting arm around the story of personal discovery being told. ‘Seemingly’ also does this well. The pacey acoustic guitar and sad radio frequencies guide the listener towards an unresolved dilemma for the lyrics to tie up.

The theme of uplifting lyrics through adversity adds to the sincerity of the album. That allows tracks like ‘Sandwich In My Hand’ to stick their landing without feeling sickly. Spoken word passages usually fall flat for me, but Chantal’s wistful remembrance of the comfort taken from having a sandwich after leaving a problem is carefully delivered. The chorus, which is sung, encourages Chantal to “keep going” and not give up. It’s quietly hopeful without feeling saccharine, and that’s difficult to pull off.

As we enter the final third of the album, we get some of the more exuberant tracks. ‘Don’t Know What To say’ is a swirling piano and layered vocal piece. It is designed to create a heady mess in the most elegant way possible, and it works. ‘This Damn Wall’ uses glittery synths and tinny machines to create a strangely DIY-sounding cinematic track. The machine percussion used is very thin, so we get all the high frequency drama and none of the bass to ground it. Chantal and Bruno clearly want to keep the album light and heady, and as a result, the production turns a cinematic cataclysm into distant space debris. It took me a couple of listens for it to click, but I appreciate the sound design more with each listen. ‘Bikes’ rounds off the album with freedom. A cool, calm, but steadfast acoustic folk pop anthem with a catchy chorus, its open freeness is a fantastic album closer.

Lightning has struck twice for Bruno Bavota and Chantal Acda. They clearly know how to give each other space to work and breathe. ‘Safer Places’ has a similar vibe to their 2022 release, but in some ways feels more natural. The guitar and piano have a purposeful jam quality to them, like you’ve found two folk staples having a quiet backroom concert for 30 people in a secluded pub only locals know. This is an album full of affirmations and tentative positivity, wrapped up in winter blues, and I love the duality that brings. ‘Safer Places’ is a great album, and one that gets better every time I listen.

Recommended track: A Part Of Me

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