Warner Bros
New Age, 2015
Dark Sky Island is Enya’s long-awaited return after a seven-year retreat into the Celtic mist, where she presumably spent her time communing with the wind, layering her vocals 500 times per track, and perfecting the art of making music that sounds both deeply spiritual and like something you’d hear while on hold with your bank.
From what the marketing materials tell us, the songs are based on some poetry written by longtime collaborator Roma Ryan, and Enya came in to sprinkle her signature fairy dust over them. And while it’s undeniably an upgrade from the coma-inducing Christmas album (And Winter Came… or more accurately, And Listeners Slept…), this album carries with it a chronic condition that longtime fans know all too well: Enya-itis.
Yes, that’s right—no matter how beautiful an Enya song is, it will inevitably remind you of a previous Enya song, and not just vaguely. Oh no, your brain will recall the original track so vividly that you’ll start wondering if she’s sneakily recycling her own music and hoping nobody notices.
Take So I Could Find My Way, a touching tribute to Enya’s late mother. It’s tender, it’s heartfelt, it’s lovely. But if you’ve spent any significant time listening to Enya, you’ll find yourself involuntarily humming How Can I Keep from Singing or China Roses halfway through. In fact, you could probably stitch all three together into one never-ending ballad, and unless someone is paying *really* close attention, they’d be none the wiser.
But wait, *Enya-itis* doesn’t just make you recall older albums—it infects this album itself. I Could Never Say Goodbye, the title track, and about three other ballads all start blending together into one ethereal, slightly sleepy dream sequence, with Enya’s signature layered vocals gliding over orchestral reverbs so smooth you could ice skate on them. It’s like being gently wrapped in a cashmere blanket… that someone keeps throwing over your head over and over again.
And then, like a long-overdue jolt of espresso in a sea of chamomile tea, Echoes in Rain arrives. Easily the best track on the album, it’s bright, bouncy, and borderline euphoric. You start tapping your feet, getting into the rhythm, thinking, “Yes! This is the Enya we need!” And then, inevitably, your brain short-circuits and starts humming Orinoco Flow and Long, Long Journey because, of course, this song is yet another long-lost sibling in the Enya Extended Family of Soundalike Melodies.
And then there’s Sancta Maria, which is dramatic, powerful, and borderline cinematic. It’s like stepping into an ancient cathedral where Enya herself is conducting a choir of angels. But before you can truly appreciate the glory, your brain interrupts with an urgent message: *Hey, haven’t we heard this before?*
Which brings us to the ultimate question: is this a bad thing?
Well, that depends.
If you’ve been deprived of Enya for eight long years, you might not care that her new album sounds eerily like her old ones. In fact, you might find it comforting, like slipping on an old, well-worn robe and drinking your weight in herbal tea.
However, if you’re one of those longtime fans who can sing Caribbean Blue in perfect pitch from memory, Dark Sky Island might start feeling like a gourmet meal that you’ve been served one too many times. It’s still good, but maybe, just maybe, a little variety would’ve been nice.
