The first review of The Nameless by Eamon Carr and published in the Dubliner magazine:

CATHY DAVEY
THE NAMELESS
****
Cathy’s No Clown

Long a pinup for bedwetting indie kids, Cathy Davey has been the victim of a cruel critical caprice. In the six years since she released her debut album, Davey’s been defined as merely a promising talent. Second best, at best. Her last album, Tales of Silversleeve, benchmarked this dubious critical response when it was numbered sixth – or in one case, ninth – best Irish album ofthe year. Ninth best? Who in rock’n'roll does maths? Subsequent award nominations didn’t prevent Cathy being dropped by EMI. Clearly it was proving difficult to capture Davey’s winsome charm on record. So, with the singer now in her 30s and the pop landscape dramatically shifting around her, something outstanding was required if she was to survive. As she began work on this album, to be released in three weeks’ time, Cathy predicted, “This will be a Victorian child who makes handcrafted presents for you,” conveniently forgetting that the majority of Victorian kids found themselves stuck up sooty chimneys or in Satantic mills from dawn till dusk. And with no trade unions to boo the minister.

The title track does evoke memories of Dickens’ The Old Curiosity Shop and tragic Little Nell. Yet it’s the song’s orchestrated arrangement that’s most startling, marking Davey as both artistically assured and adventurous. From The Decemberists to Duke Special, Victoriana has been enjoying something of a cult comeback. But Davey takes the motif further and her Army of Tears’, with its sawing violins and sturdy rhythms, sounds positively Kurt ‘n’ Bertolt. This European sensibility pervades the album, elevating songs like ‘In He Comes’ and Wild Rum’ to the level of vintage continental standards. Quitean accomplishment. Davey’s little-girl-lost vocal avoids tweeness by its positioning in muscular musical settings. ‘Lay Your Hand’ is cocooned in sweet strings which build to a heavenly coda that allows the simple beauty of her lyric to linger in the consciousness. Conor O’Brien contributes understated guitar throughout, as well as concise drum patterns. I’m not sure who plays the banjo, but it’s never less than perfect. (If ‘banjo’ and ‘perfect’ can be used in the same sentence…) The single ‘Little Red’ is a fine example of Davey’s ability to make the album’s diverse ingredients work to her benefit. The Nameless is the album that undisputedly confirms Davey as world-class. (EC)

“…the good news is that it may very well be the best thing she’s done to date…”
Eoin Butler….The Ticket..The Irish Times