There are plenty of reasons to admire Juliet Turner. The way she's not afraid to sing in her pronounced Northern accent. Her refusal to be packaged as just another boring Irish singer-songwriter. Her narrative-style songs, which are subtle, literate and far more intelligent than most of what you'll hear on daytime radio. Why, then, does the feeling persist that the young woman from Omagh has yet to produce an album that does full justice to her highly distinctive talent? Season of the Hurricane is probably her best yet, but while it passes the time pleasantly enough, it doesn't have enough of the oomph factor that's needed to make her a fully-fledged star (despite Terry Wogan's best efforts). Much of the blame must lie with the anodyne production - anyone who's seen Turner live will know just what a fiery performer she can be, but the washed-out sound here makes her seem curiously subdued and, horror of horrors, even bland. One day, Juliet will surely make a classic album. Until then, this will just have to do.
