Mirabilis

1	Star of the Sea 3:32
2	Trovommi Amor 4:38
3	Temptasyon 3:19
4	San'c Fuy Belha Ni Prezada 1:35
5	All for Love of One 3:38
6	The Lament 3:27
7	Musa Venit Carmine 3:26
8	Kilmeny 3:59
9	Lhiannan Shee 2:56
10	Umlahi 2:14
11	Cittern Segue 0:52
12	Return of the Birds 3:45
13	Tam Lin 4:24
14	Scarborough Fayre 3:23
15	Come My Sweet 3:20
16	Märk Hur Vår Skugga 3:42
17	The World Fareth as a Fantasye 4:07
18	Away 2:20

Barnes & Noble

Although on paper the Mediaeval Baebes may look like a novelty act -- eight young women who sing ancient Latin and Middle English texts to music that falls somewhere between classical and pop, new age and folk -- they're still going strong after nearly a decade together, and they've grown artistically, too, as shown on their hauntingly beautiful fifth album, Mirabilis. The program takes the listener on an enchanting journey that leads to both innocent delight and to a darker, more perilous place, and while there's little pretense of medieval authenticity (aside from occasionally using the hurdy-gurdy, psaltery, cittern, and other colorful instruments), there's an endlessly refreshing variety within the Baebes' distinctive sound. "Musa Venit Carmine" conjures up a pagan-sounding dance (if a gentle one); the Gaelic "Lhiannan Shee" takes us to an aquatic world of tempting sirens; "Return of the Birds" rediscovers a pristine, pastoral world; and each of the 15 other tracks undertakes its own magical travels in time. The Baebes also offer a taste of the familiar -- the traditional "Scarborough Fayre" -- and expand their own horizons by singing in Swedish for the first time on "Märk Hur Var Skugga." But whatever they sing, it's always striking how they manage to penetrate to the essence of the mystical lyrics they choose. Scott Paulin

All Music Guide

The Mediaeval Baebes combine elements of Western European myth and folkloric tradition with linguistic fancy and overdone sensualism. An example of the latter: in photos the octet will stand at the threshold of a leafy green forest, like an artisan's glistening porcelain figurines fashioned to please the provincial lord. On the other hand they'll perform in haunting a cappella, singing in Middle English, archaic Latin and Italian, Cornish, or even Manx, a unique Gaelic dialect originally spoken on the Isle of Man in the Irish Sea. So the Baebes are a study in contrasts, their work running fluidly between past and present. Mirabilis continues that conversation, collecting folk ballads, pagan dance music, ancient love songs, and parcels of pure mystery. Where some earlier albums emphasized synths and worldbeat textures too much -- whether as a crossover tactic or at the whim of a producer -- Mirabilis is happy with its zithers and recorders, finger cymbals and glockenspiels, and above all features voice. When a keyboard does surface ("Kilmeny"), it's as a mood accompanist. Opener "Star of the Sea" feels too much like a single, its Medieval English lilt too "period film" obvious. But the Baebes are better with something like "San'c Fuy Bellha Ni Prezada," with its unadorned vocal and twining autoharp, or "Musa Venit Carmine," sung in Latin, in the round, and stippled with dynamic percussion. These selections are exuberant, even catchy, but the mystery that lies in the heart of the Mediaeval Baebes' sound is never sacrificed. "Märk Hur Vår Skugga" is even better. A vocal trio harmonizes in an ancient Swedish tongue over the pluck of a zither and a violin's mournful sway; it's weird, cool, and beautiful. The ethereal "Lhiannan Shee" is another highlight -- its layers of beckoning voices are like lures to a spirit world -- and "Cittern Segue" is a gentle interlude played on the titular instrument, a Renaissance relic which sort of sounds like a mandolin crossed with a harpsichord. Johnny Loftus