𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 - this week: I Was Ozzy (Ozzy’s Response) - Valeryan
- Charles Connolly
- 21 hours ago
- 7 min read
Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly - an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.
𝙄 𝙒𝙖𝙨 𝙊𝙯𝙯𝙮 (𝙊𝙯𝙯𝙮’𝙨 𝙍𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚) - 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙖𝙣
Charles plays with a ball of string…
My final review of 2025 was of a woman. My first review of 2026 was of a woman. And this week…? Yep: it’s of a woman. Or rather, a lady. Lady: putting experience, respect, wisdom and class at the forefront. Before these three women, however, the last time I reviewed a female was October. And before that, July. You see? Not that much. And this isn’t any kind of conscious decision or sexist choice. It is simply the way it happened to be. And this is probably due to the simple fact that there are far more men than women on the New Artist Spotlight. Which makes it far more understandable. I don’t ever want to do any sort of forced balance of male/female, black/white, Eastern/Western etc.. The second it is forced, it is fake. I only want to review the songs that stood out the most on any given week. Which is the very same reason that this week’s review is not only the third female artist in a row, but also the third softer folky song in a row. It simply happens to be. It could also be my mood at the moment - craving calm in this cooler, darker climate. And no, this does not mean that women can only do soft stuff.
Let’s talk Cats. No, not the musical. And no, not THAT film. The film that people tend to agree is the worst film ever made. Having not seen it, I cannot comment. I am talking about our feline friends, the cats themselves. In November I wrote a rather in-depth article about something or other, and yet quite a few readers seemed to fixate on one particular unessential throwaway point to which I hadn’t given any thought. I casually declared that I don’t like cats. It’s amazing how this made people pounce, claws out. So defensive and protective of their silky companions. In a way, it’s quite honourable I suppose. But it’s also a little bit silly. You like cats; I don’t. You like reggaeton; I don’t. You like curry; I don’t. Cue the comments this week: “You don’t like CURRY??!”… The thing is, I’m not saying cats are bad or evil, or that I’d like to harm them in any way. I simply don’t like them. Yes, yes, a silky black thing slinking across the room can look cool and even mesmerising, but I am certainly not inclined to touch it. Besides, I am EXTREMELY allergic. To the extent that if one of them passed through a room several hours ago, my sinuses will feel like I stuffed my earplugs up my nostrils, and my eyes will portray the scene as deep sadness. So no, cats are not for me.
“Then why do you want to talk Cats??”… Because others do not feel the same. Cat people don’t think of cats as pets, but as friends. And I gather they can be as addictive as tattoos. Get one, and very soon you have the entire litter! A tattoo is for life, not just for Christmas. The same for cats…? Well, in a way… That expression is usually used for dogs but it works for cats too. There is however something about that expression that people forget. When it says “for life”, it doesn’t mean YOUR life, it means the cat’s life. Which is a relatively short chunk of your own life. And so, unless your cat was a two-part gift (the other part being a Zimmer frame), chances are, you will outlive your cat. This is good and bad. The good being that you don’t die. The bad being that you have to endure the passing of a close friend of many years. Which is frankly awful, however inevitable. Most people get through these times with thought, contemplation, quiet hours, photo albums, and maybe the odd stiff drink. Artists, however, tend to deal with things differently. No no, I don’t mean like the crazy ones who hurl table lamps through closed windows (top tip: open it first - windows cost more than lamps). I mean the ones who turn their grief to art. Beauty out of loss. Now THAT’S what it’s all about.
I bring you Valeryan, the Surrey-born Englander. Huh, I just realised another coincidental thing with my choices lately: They’re all English! Valeryan has never seen my Corner before. She’s heard good things, and yet as she looks around, I can feel her disappointment. “It’s just a corner!”, she says. “Not even any cats or anything!”… You see, Valeryan is a self-confused crazy cat lady. Sorry, self-conFESSED. She absolutely adores cats. She may not breed them, but she breathes them. I breathe them, I die. This poor lady lost several of her 867 cats in 2024/25. But there was one that meant the most to her. Her dear Ozzy. But before we get into that, who IS Valeryan…? Let’s start with how to pronounce her name. You might assume it is simply Valerie-Anne, but it is not. Then maybe Valour Yan…? Nope. Instead, it quasi-rhymes with ‘malaria’. Which is why some of you might have noticed me calling her Malaria - it’s our little yoke. Yes, she titters too. Now, on to the person. For starters, she is of the maturer variety, which for me is a pro, not a con. It means she has experienced more than most. She has lived through decades that most of us have only read about. The saying goes “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t really there”… Well, Valeryan was very much there, and very much remembers it. She had solo singles back then (as Valerie Anne - a name of two parts). Yes, she was a signed artist! But her career really took off in the 70s when she joined the band The Settlers (as Valery Ann - dropping the E). Throughout the decades since, Valeryan has been in and out of the music business, balancing her distinguished music career - okay, she wasn’t hobnobbing with the likes of Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger and David Bowie, but she has known quite a few names, and met many - with her own education (various degrees etc. - PhD in animal behaviour etc.) and her own separate career. Accountancy, would you believe?! Having children took up a fair amount of time, so I gather. And then there were cats. Lots and lots of cats.
Speaking of cats, let’s talk Cats. Remember that two-part gift…? Well Valeryan’s latest single, is part two of her gift to us. Part one was released in November of last year (are you still saying THIS year…?). We move from ‘That Beautiful Early Spring Day (Ozzy’s Song)’, to ‘I Was Ozzy (Ozzy’s Response)’. Gotta love these snappy titles. This two-part gesture was to be her ode to Ozzy. Not the rocker who died just days before part one’s completion (oh, the irony), but in fact her beloved cat who passed away earlier in the year (last year). Part one was lovely. It was so very, very SPRING-like (ignore that it was released in November). It had the air of wild meadows coming into bloom. But while I liked it, it didn’t have “that thing” that makes me write. Part two, however, did. Does, I should say. Let’s make things current. This song is not the kind of song that I would normally review. Or even, that I have EVER reviewed. It is different in not having a sung melody, and neither is it rapped. This is spoken word. Spoken word with a massive amount of feeling and emotion. Almost possessed, I might add! Spoken word is a funny one. Usually awful, let’s face it. Meaningful for no one but the artist. Embarrassing for everyone else. For spoken word to work, I think it needs two things: An incredible, captivating and distinctive voice… and fame (or at least a hell of a lot of experience). For example, Vincent Price’s classic chiller on Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’. Or Giorgio Moroder’s brief biography on Daft Punk’s ‘Giorgio by Moroder’. I should hate ‘I Was Ozzy’, but I absolutely love it. Probably because Valeryan has an incredible, captivating and distinctive voice, and at least a wee soupçon of fame (and a hell of a lot of experience). But really, I should think the main reason this works is because it has passion. It is moving. It is different. It is alive, and pretty creepy (in a good way).
I loved it from the moment I heard it. From its opening howling wind and ominous organ, this is a scene of dark, wintry mourning. And then comes “Ozzy”. “He” speaks to us from start to finish. This cat is an intelligent one. Ozzy tells all, in the voice of Valeryan. This piece has “seance” written all over it. While part one had all the optimism of a memorial, part two has all the optimism of a funeral. But one where the spirit hangs low - always the observer. For me, ‘I Was Ozzy’ is trance-like. It is like being hypnotised. This is mainly achieved by the deep, unceasing drone that lingers throughout, with added spice from the gusty atmosphere. Its simplicity in production is just right for the set design of this scene. The lead actress is still very much the star. That drone almost turns into Cistercian monks surrounding Valeryan, chanting in hoods that mask their anonymous faces. I see the musical piece. I see beauty in this cold ambience. Aside from the crisp, organic mix, I think one way Valeryan succeeds in this unearthly lucid energy, is her lingering esses. She slithers through like a snake. This, coupled with the yearning voice of a heart that aches, is what makes this piece so visceral. This is poetry in emotion. But nothing is so moving as that final line. Not the line itself, but the I-give-my-soul-and-my-everything-to-you voice that lets out those words, “I Was Ozzy”. Pure purrfection.
Must dash. I have a chore of two parts: buy a new table lamp; hire a glazier.
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