Here is a review of Get Some by Trev Elkin of Gold Flake Paint: Question: It’s a sunny day. You lay a mirror on the ground in the shade of a tree and look into it, what do you see? Answer: the reflection of the tree. The odd thing is, there is still a shadow there. Nancy Kells sees the shadows. Premiering below, ‘Get Some’, is her latest album under the moniker Spartan Jet-Plex. The darkness and spirituality of her previous albums is still there, but in many respects, ‘Get Some’ feels more like a debut. A departure from the guitar-centred experimental folk of ‘My Time’ and even more adventurous than ‘Touch Tone’, it is assembled on Kells’ own terms; a waypost left for others on a barely beaten path. On it is written: “life is mine”. It’s also significant that these aren’t all new songs and that there were many versions and demos which didn’t make the final cut (including a spectral version of Rihanna’s ‘Woo’). The choice of songs and running order of ‘Get Some’, makes for a well-balanced album, not a compilation, but it also tells us a lot about the development and history of Spartan Jet-Plex. Opener ‘Uncaused’, recently re-discovered on a hard drive after several years, symbolises the past and playfully outlines the emergence of an artist discovering her musical inspiration through experimenting on toy instruments- cheap keyboards and plastic toy horns. This imperfect, but fun instrumental is juxtaposed beautifully with recent single ‘Clear Section’ which emerges with a neonate purity and freshness by comparison. Kells’ voice is clearer, more confident, held suspended by deep, humming bass and crystal synth patterns, which spur off their own fractal copies into an infinite space. ‘Emptiness’ follows, “I am nothing, just emptiness / my heart, my soul, my voice has left” she sings, like a cipher calling us from a parallel universe. Much of Kells’ power as a musician emanates from this dark, other place which haunts the fringes of our reality. This theme is explored further in ‘Thin Transparent’. As if resting at the heart of a maze, it is a song in three sections, reflecting the moods we lose ourselves in before finding the way out. Then, the unassuming and introspective pulse of ‘Lifeline’ perhaps gives us the first clue of what it is that can “set us free”, stopping abruptly before ‘Life is Mine’ lifts up the full weight of our discontinuous thoughts. Its simple, repeating vocal pattern propped by a single organ melody is enough to make us hold our breath, as Kells sings: “in everything that I can see / life is mine, it sets me free. In every particle I can be / life is mine, eternity”. The more experimental Spartan Jet-Plex is, the wider the crack opens between these two worlds of darkness and light. ‘Implode’ seethes and twists, sending stress lines ripping across its frame. It recalls the fugitive’s instinctive fear of darkness and the night, where the light shining through the mist is more likely to come from an enemy than a friend. That ‘Get Some’ conjures these images demonstrates Kells’ more intuitive direction and the place where she finds herself in creating music. It is a cold place of merging penumbra, where shadows touch and overlap, seemingly empty. And yet, through working the gloom, Spartan Jet-Plex extracts hope and wisdom – a mirror, reflecting only light.