Thea Gilmore has been on quite a journey these past few years, and, against the odds, has shown herself to be a survivor, when the odds were more she may barely wash up. One of those artists seemingly around for ever, it is a shock to realize she is still only in her mid-40s, despite a staggering catalog of over 20 albums, starting in 1998.
Whilst her own writing is sharp and incisive, she is neither a stranger to covering the work of other artists. That’s how we know her here, with her 2011 track-by-track recreation of Dylan’s John Wesley Harding meeting with no small approval. Prior to that she had issued 2004’s Loft Music, a diverse set that ranged from Creedence Clearwater Revival through to Phil Ochs, via the Ramones and Neil Young. On Don’t Stop Singing (also in 2011), she was gifted the opportunity to put music to a set of posthumous orphan lyrics written by Sandy Denny. (The fact that UK Denny tributers the Sandy Denny Project have covered one such song, “London,” is a wry testament.)
Anyhoo, here we are in 2025, and here is These Quiet Friends, a second set of disparate covers. The mood is here more consistent than the earlier set, that mood being generally low key and pensive, perhaps given away by the album title. An impression is that these songs helped sustain her over the brick wall her personal life crashed into, back in 2021. The details aren’t for here, but rather than a career-put-on-hold stalling release, this set provides a companion to Gilmore’s new material, which continues, her muse anything other than consumed by circumstance.
The opener, “Cabaret,” is an odd choice, being, yes, the theme from the film/play/musical of that name. Not a song I am especially drawn to, but Gilmore actually gives it a credence that belies any of the more usual renditions. So none of your musical the-ah-ter stylings, with all that overblown phrasing and enthusiastic pit band razzmatazz–this is a bereft and doleful version, with just voice to start, breaking through some background chat. Acoustic guitar is then the sole accompaniment, drawing equal attention to the words and her plangent delivery. I don’t like the song, but I respect this version.
Guns N’Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine” is a song well suited to stripping back–possibly, you might think, too often. But Gilmore finds a poignancy others have missed. Largely this is down to her voice, which is very much more of an instrument than it used to be. A competent vocalist previously, with a scattergun snarl often a major part of her palette, she can now stake a claim to being as good a singer as she is an interpreter. That same realization sears into fact, as she graces “The Killing Moon” with a spare starkness, a million miles from the shades and leather trenchcoats of Ian McCulloch. Double tracked vocals and a sinewy guitar pattern give a lustrous sense of being lonely and alone, at midnight.
“Crazy He Calls Me” hails from 1949, a much-covered standard. She sings it a languidly strummed uke, and I doubt it has ever sounded so exquisitely English. Again, like “Cabaret,” perhaps a little too straight, but no less perfectly put together for all that. Sidestepped by that style, it took a moment to place “End Of a Century” as being the Blur original, becoming a wry concoction of chamber pop, redolent of early Everything But The Girl covering The Smiths, both in arrangement and timbre. Beautiful, actually.
But all before seems but a build for the track which follows, a sumptuously aching version of “Hey Jealousy.” Already a sad song, here the arrangement renders that an also-ran, Piano gives a stark and eerie bed for Gilmore to eke every available iota of anguish from the song. Oof, if you can play this just once, rather than on repeat, you have too hard a heart. Suddenly, from being an interesting set for Gilmore completist or for cover freaks, this has become essential in its own right.
Less so, annoyingly, is her take on Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark,” which has already been done in this vein, too many times to my mind. I do like the guitar sound, steel strings all a-shimmer. I guess this is the issue with favorite songs; seldom are they unique to the interpreter, which might then offer the same challenge to the next couple of tracks. “Sunday Morning” is one of the most covered of the Velvet Underground’s output, making overfamiliarity a very real threat here. Actually she manages to nail it, with a gentle luster of what may be autoharp, sounding a little like the teenaged Marianne Faithfull. I remain of two minds for R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts,” the very ubiquity working against Gilmore and her cover.
Thankfully there is no quibble allowed for her showstopping “Wrecking Ball,” up there with “Hey Jealousy” as the go-tos for this set. Neither the Neil Young nor the Gillian Welch song, this is one that Miley Cyrus took to the tops of charts worldwide. Gilmore removes any and all the bells and whistles from that version, leaving it as voice and guitar, raw and rueful, where Cyrus was angry and angsty. The words seem bear some due relevance to Gilmore’s own experience, unless it is just the coruscating weeping wound of her performance. Astonishing, and some.
How to follow that? Well, you can’t really, so the closer, “Tonight You Belong to Me,” feels like some blotting paper, to allow the listener to emerge, dry-eyed, from the listening room. Sure, it is a faithful cover of the 1926 standard, but feels a little out of place, other than for the purpose of balance. As such, as a bookend, it works.
These Quiet Friends may not feature in the best covers albums of the year, but I would be surprised were it not mined for a number of best individual tracks. Some of the songs may be too well known, give her some slack, that is her right, it’s her album and her prerogative. “These songs have been like mates to me,” Gilmore says. “They’ve marked important moments and provided warmth, strength, or even just fun.” Plus, by and large, she offers way more than less, through her skeletal arrangements.
These Quiet Friends tracklisting:
1. Cabaret (Jill Haworth cover)
2. Sweet Child O’ Mine (Guns N’ Roses cover)
3. The Killing Moon (Echo & the Bunnymen cover)
4. Crazy He Calls Me (Billie Holiday cover)
5. End Of A Century (Blur cover)
6. Hey Jealousy (Gin Blossoms cover)
7. Dancing In The Dark (Bruce Springsteen cover)
8. Sunday Morning (Velvet Underground cover)
9. Everybody Hurts (R.E. M. cover)
10. Wrecking Ball (Miley Cyrus cover)
11. Tonight You Belong to Me (Irving Kaufman cover)
