Here We Go Magic - A Different Ship

By Matt Churchill

An incongruously industrial introduction to A Different Ship leads into an intimate folk track, singing about how it’s ‘Hard To Be Close’, with a gentle vocal positioning itself near enough to your ears to make it seem, in fact, quite easy. Building from an upbeat acoustic guitar accompaniment, the backdrop to this track gradually layers up to a plush landscape, continuing to grow in stature right to the end of the song. This broad sound then snaps us into a claustrophobic shuffle with ‘Make Up Your Mind’. Whilst the gentle build up of the album opener does take you away from the simple opening, it does not prepare you for this that would fill an intelligent dancefloor. Probably the most immediate track on Here We Go Magic‘s new album, with hushed, clipped lyrics and an enticing lilt of a chorus, it only disappoints when it ends without an ending.

It is possible that this is due to the decision to switch mood again, as it falls to the very relaxed falsetto verses of ‘Alone But Moving’ before picking up that upbeat feeling again with ‘I Believe In Action’; the former appears to be espousing the joys of solo travel, suggesting “Alone but moving/ Only place to be” with the latter decrying both loneliness and noting that “Not moving does not mean you don’t move.” Whether intentional or not, the opposing slow to fast(er) dynamic of the tracklisting does seem to be reflected in a little lyrical turmoil here too.

Whilst A Different Ship has been arguing with itself a little, to good effect of course, there are harmonies to come on ‘Made To Be Old’, with a few other voices used almost as just another layer to the complex sound that lies behind the lyrics. For fear of sounding like we’re angling for a key change, this track does highlight a tendency to steer clear of really launching a song when the opportunity arises. The music may start to build, the vocals get a bit urgent, but it doesn’t quite take off in a joyous cacophony as you feel the songs may want to. Perhaps the band is merely ascending above the obvious pleasures in favour of more interesting ideas, of which there certainly are plenty.

Moving on from that attempt at a complaint, and after the dancey one earlier on, we get to the radio-friendliest track in ‘How Do I Know’. It has what appear to be the simplest lyrics (“How do I know/ If I love you”, for instance) and a generally joyous feel, constructed by that now characteristic constantly building sound, it adds “aah aaah”s, rhythmic “woo woo”s and hand claps on the home straight. It may be that it dismantles itself a little early and a little quickly at the end, or it may just be that you don’t want it to end.

End it must though, and the album does so with the title track, which mixes effects-laden ’80s pop with stalling choruses, out of the back of which all the spare ideas and sounds seem to tumble as it draws to a brooding close. A Different Ship may occasionally steer clear of the shallow fun of the crescendo, but it successfully navigates a route through exuberant and intelligent, allowing you to enjoy the tunes and admire the craft of Here We Go Magic.

Simian Mobile Disco - Unpatterns

By Kenny McMurtrie

Album number four from Simian Mobile Disco and the duo have taken their feet off the pedals and decided to freewheel on this one it seems. Nary a decent hook throughout its length. Instead they’ve leant heavily towards the third word in their name and come up with a set of mid-paced background music which wouldn’t induce you to even tap your feet. So it’ll probably go down a storm live in a tent in a field when you’re off your face. Sans drugs, however, it’s all rather boring.

I know I’ve played it a few times now (back to back and everything) as I remember pressing play but it’s left no impression of substance whatsoever. Which is a shame as all previous efforts show the pair can clearly do better. Music for the backdrop to a nice quiet night at home with your significant other could of course have been the whole jumping off point for this outing in which case they’ve achieved their aim admirably.

After a break of a few days I’ve now come back to this squib to try and pad it out a bit but having apparently reached the total of times I can stream the album I think that in itself puts a seal on proceedings. I can’t work up the enthusiasm to request an extension of the streaming period and despite having played it throughout the day on May Day Monday not a single song title has lodged in my mind. To plagiarise a fellow Musos’ columnist this is screaming out for a remix.

Perfume Genius

By Russell Warfield

May 14, 2012

Although the clue was definitely in the title, I didn’t expect tonight’s setting to be quite so quaint. Completely un-renovated and seemingly still primarily intended as a place of worship, tonight’s performance takes place in the altar, lit by candles and soft lamps, with a massive, crucified Jesus as the de facto stage backdrop. Opening act Cate le Bon – performing solo acoustic numbers with a rustic Celtic charm – jokingly comments about feeling uncomfortable singing a song with the phrase “oh, Christ!” in such a location, and indeed it’s true to say that the dynamic of the event is unquestionably altered – the faintly stifling conventions of a musty old church causing the murmuring of people to get quieter rather than louder as Hadraes enters, taking the stage to expectant silence rather than welcoming applause. But if you had come for a party or a chit-chat, this was never going to be the gig for you. It’s unexpected and unusual, but St Pancras Old Church is a pitch-perfect setting in which to absorb the music of Perfume Genius – hosting a performance which proves itself more than worthy of its lofty surroundings.

What makes tonight’s gig particularly special is the manner in which the desperate fragility of debut LP Learning and the breakthroughs of confidence and resilience of 2012’s Put Your Back N 2 It are allowed to co-exist so effectively. Early set highlight comes in the form of the shattering ‘Lookout, Lookout’, a rendition which (cliché alert – but it’s true) had goosebumps running up and down me for its duration. But rather than being immediately followed by more despair and torture (on the LP’s tracklisting, we’re next treated/subjected to ‘Mr Peterson’), we’re lifted out of the mire by the uplifting swell of ‘Dark Parts’, and lines like ‘Normal Song’s’ “no memory, no matter how sad / and no violence, no matter how bad can darken the heart / or tear it apart.” For every descent into Hadraes’ storied past of depression and chemical dependence on first album cuts, these moments are always juxtaposed with a glimmering ray of optimistic hope taken from its follow up; dramatic swoops between peaks and troughs adding a true sense of drama to the set, delivering redemption and (I’ll permit myself to say, since I’m in a church) salvation for Hadras – and his audience – every few songs, with no diminishing returns.

In more purely sonic terms, tonight’s set also sees a comfortable marriage between Hadraes’s early stripped back delicacy and the fuller textured maturity of his newer material. Flanked by two band mates, one providing dark, gorgeous synth texture, the other alternating between drums and guitar, the sound is permitted to expand and contract as the material desires, and without jarring. Wisely, ‘Mr. Peterson’ remains un-tampered with, while the epic sweep of stuff like ‘Dark Parts’ is recreated beautifully, resonating around the stone walls as if expecting to be joined by a full choir and orchestra at any moment. In all, it feels like a performance from an artist at a particularly special period in his trajectory – a perfect balance of simplicity and intricacy to the musicianship, combined with a similarly effective balance between despair and hope in the lyricism. And although there’s nothing to suggest that the best of Perfume Genius’ work is behind him, this is undoubtedly a time capsule moment in his career – a special moment in his development before hopefully (for his own sake more so than his listeners) continuing to move in the direction of artistic maturity and personal fulfilment.

Richard Hawley - Standing At The Sky's Edge

By Joe Bates

Hype can work in mysterious ways. More of a system in which all acts can exist than a force that lifts up certain artists, even the shiniest ‘undiscovered gem’ is not immune to it. Not that long ago, it was Elbow who benefited from not being hyped or over-exposed. ‘Elbow are doing this sort of thing but ten times better’, was the reaction when a particular Coldplay or Snow Patrol song became bafflingly ubiquitous, ‘so why is no one buying their records?’ When enough people began to voice variations of this, suddenly Elbow got massive.

Nothing had changed. They certainly hadn’t changed their style – beyond a first album so gloomy it suggests all the subsequent ones are indebted to SSRIs, Elbow’s music has remained pretty familiar. But now they have a Mercury prize; they have appearances on Children in Need; their specific songs blatantly designed for thousands of people to sing along to at Glastonbury are being sung along to by thousands of people, often at Glastonbury. Just like average bands like the Arctic Monkeys can become massive due to hype, average bands like Elbow can become massive due to a supposed hype-deficiency.

It maybe a surprise to some that something similar hasn’t happened to Richard Hawley yet. He has written some great songs, his brilliant voice enriching his more mundane efforts and lifting up his best tracks higher. He’s far from undiscovered but his songs won’t have invaded many peoples space unless they’ve sought them out. The problem might have been Richard Hawley’s muse seemingly taking him further within himself – his last album, the often-beautiful Truelove’s Gutter, featured fewer concessions to arena audiences than any of his previous records, and even for fans might have been slightly lacking in hooks.

His latest, Standing at the Sky’s Edge, is somewhat of a change of tack. It’s big – the guitars are louder than ever, the choruses are more anthemic (the combination of these two factors makes the opening track sound a bit like Oasis), and Hawley himself is more of a presence vocally. It’d be great if this was the album which propels him beyond his faithful fanbase, but it’s probably not going to be. It’s a decent album, not a great one, and once you peel away the layers of electric guitar and the new volume, the songs are not vastly different to anything he’s done before, and definitely not self-consciously crowd-pleasing enough to win over many neutrals.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t much here to enjoy. Hawley is a brilliant guitar player and a loud, expressive album like this shows that for all the comparisons to sixties crooners, he has a love for searing and piercing noise which adds great texture to many of these tracks. It’s nice to see him sounding impassioned, too – as nice as ‘Open Up Your Door’ from the previous album is, it did represent Hawley at his most simple and somnambulist. The tracks here, including the brooding title track, give him much more to get his teeth into vocally and lyrically, and there is much less chance of this record completely washing over a listener. That being said, the fact that the middle section is the quietest and yet contains the nicest moments, including the perfect ‘Seek It’, means that the surrounding noise can be unwelcome, and gets you thinking of the weaknesses of the new sound that he has adopted for much of this album.

These weaknesses  are quite noticeable and, for someone whose charm is often found through channelling songwriters from long ago, mark the first time he has sounded truly dated. ‘She Brings The Light’ is late-era bloated Britpop, its psychedelia derived from predictable imagery and a sitar, and other tracks such as ‘Leave Your Body Behind You’ are similar. Predictability is an unfortunate issue throughout, with songs rarely going in places you don’t expect them; getting loud at the obvious points, choruses following from the verses in the expected ways, and nothing really surprising, even in the better songs.  The guitars sound good and his voice is always a welcome presemnce. But this album simply represents a new sound for Hawley, not a sound remotely new to anyone else.

That said, there’s enough good stuff here to constitute a decent record. It is underwhelming at times, and the new sound doesn’t always play to his strengths, but it is always heartening to hear an artist worth trying something new, even if it doesn’t work out. Richard Hawley isn’t about to join his friend Guy Garvey on the Pyramid Stage for anything other than a guest vocal just yet, and perhaps this is for the best. A flawed but enjoyable album, Standing at the Sky’s Edge shows Hawley is not resting on his laurels, and has enough promise to hint that his masterpiece, and an increase in profile, might still be ahead of him.

Richard Rossa – Midnight Dub (Kelton Prima remix)

By Stef Siepel

The Weekly Froth! A weekly take on six tracks, most of which have recently popped up somewhere in the blogosphere. Bit of a mixed bag with a slight leaning towards house, disco, and remixes, but generally just anything that for some reason tickled the writer’s fancy.

Track of the Week: ‘Midnight Dub’ by Richard Rossa (Kelton Prima remix)

Kelton Prima is one that likes to go deep with the beat (at least the songs I’ve heard of him), and though this is not as deep as cuts of his I already have in my collection, it isn’t quite the by SoundCloud labelled nu-disco either. I would say it is more of a mix of deep house with some lighter elements, including a tingling bell of some sorts and a quite prominent synth. Then the space sounds come in (that I do remember of him, see his fairly recently released song ‘The Dark Side of the Spoon’) and Prima makes it an intergalactic ride through the clubs. The synths give it its air and its contrast, but the thing that keeps propelling it forward is the kind of grainy beat that keeps on going furiously. Like how the drums become prominent for the first time at the tail end of an interlude of some sorts in which the song is stripped down a bit. After that, the synth and space sounds bring this to its end. If you like your deep house (but not too deep) and your space (but not too space), and if you especially like it for a club setting, than not much wrong with this one I reckon.

‘Romantic Streams’ by Sleep Over (CFCF remix)

It is good to see that this one got so much coverage on the “big blogs”, because CFCF has done some good things recently and it is nice to see that rewarded with this kind of exposure. It’s not a total surprise that this is the track that gets it, as this, first of all, is radio length with four minutes, and second of all, it is a nice and dreamy cut indeed. Love the piano in there,that is just magnificent, and the vocals are pitch perfect for this kind of thing. You’ve got a slow and lazy beat in there to keep time I suppose, but the real strength is the serenity, the I-am-looking-out-of-the-window-of-my-midnight-train-and-hoping/dreaming-of-better-things feel it evokes. I love the angelic background vocals that you can hear and which add to the overall atmosphere of this track. A really rather beautiful thing to listen to, with a hint of guitar at the end as well to close it out.

‘Idea of Happiness’ by Van She (Sebastian remix)

Gosh, this does start, doesn’t it? Really brash sounds that immediately start coming at you. After that you hear more of Van She coming through, or in any case, you can definitely hear its synth-pop roots. And that aesthetic is quite at odds with the quite hard beat. You’ve now got this mixture of poppy synth-pop, something very slick, with sounds that just force this thing in a club where it basically doesn’t belong and, I would think, doesn’t even want to be. It are the wrong elements from both forced together to tour clubs that don’t want it, that is how it rather feels to me to be honest. Not something I’ll be having on repeat.

‘Reunion’ by M83 (Mylo remix)

I love how it starts, with that swerving sound accompanying the beat, that’s really nice. After that the synth helps the beat in giving it some structure and making sure the song keeps moving forward. The vocals sound kind of frantic though to be honest, then again, I’m not that much of a fan of M83 like some people probably are *ducks*. But it is also because of the contrast between the instrumental side and how that is produced on one hand, and how high pitched those vocals are on the other. It does seem as if the instruments are quite a tad lower in terms of sound than these vocals, which make those come across as rather squeally and sped-up. Not to throw the song in the bin completely, because it is not a bad song, and it sounds nice enough. It is just that the contrast between some elements is perhaps a bit stronger than what I personally would’ve aimed for. I also wouldn’t have aimed for that ending, which is just noise for noise’s sake.

‘Traffic’ by A.N.D.Y. & Vicente

This song is the debut single of A.N.D.Y., and the DiscoTexas label gives them a place to put it out. Like we’re used from that label (and like it kind of says in the name), this song has quite some disco elements, but it does not go all vintage on us though. Rather, it is a mix of those traditional disco elements mixed with other electronical elements. In this case there is a hint of space in there and a hint of some electronics. This makes it more of a hypnotical affair than a liberating one, but it is a fine piece nonetheless. It doesn’t mind some repetition to give the possible dancers to hang on to. The ending, that is a bit abrupt I would say. Oh well, can’t have them all, can you?

‘100’ by Filthy Dukes

The Filthy Dukes are back! Last time around they delivered an album with some very very good tracks, though on the whole I thought the effort to be lacking a bit. This song starts with a nice, melancholic synth and a pretty slow throbbing beat, which they ride for a while. After two minutes lighter key sounds come in, and that bit does sound a bit like it should be used on top of a compilation of a Tom Hanks space movie to be honest. On their first album I loved the tracks that had some deep vocals on them (‘Don’t Fall Softly’, ‘Poison the Ivy’, ‘Nonsense in the Dark’), and this isn’t that, and it just misses that one element that keeps it interesting. I think in those songs, what puts them over the top are the vocals, and I think with them lacking, the song at least needs some sort of kingmaker I would say, vocals or otherwise.

Passion Pit - Take A Walk

Now Playing – twice every week, a roundtable of our writers will give their views on some of the recently-released new tracks. It’s as simple as that! If you want to tell us what you think of the song, feel free to leave a comment below.

Track: ‘Take a Walk’ by Passion Pit

Average grade: 5/10

Richard: I’m not really a synth man. So, a synth powered song was always unlikely to satisfy my musical needs. ‘Take a Walk’ starts out quite interestingly with a stampeding drum beat which sticks around throughout the song; though it does get a little jarring when combined with whiney little girly man vocals and a horrendously dour chorus, which should in theory be anthemic, yet comes across quite anodyne. 4/10

Kenny: Not a band I knew ’til now beyond their name. This sounds like it’s got a bit of a message behind it although it’s quite an upbeat treatment for the story of a family/business breakdown. Hear it enough on the radio and you’ll probably find yourself humming it in the shower but it’s not really got any longevity so 5/10

Thomas: Take a Walk exceeded my admittedly low expectations of lightweight indie synthmongers Passion Pit, by being rather bizarrely about the impacts of capitalism and recession on US families. It’s peculiar combination of Hudson Mohawke-esque chunky electro tune and parochial social consciousness.  Quite endearing. 7/10

Stef: Listening to it now it doesn’t sound so bad as I first thought it was. It’s a nice summery, radio pop tune, but it lacks catchiness to really dance to for me (Cut Copy it is not), and the longer the song goes on, the more cheesy it starts to feel to be honest. That chorus in particular just lacks the oomph to keep it going. 4/10

Beach House - Bloom

By Russell Warfield

2010’s Teen Dream was a colossal leap forward from what we’d previously heard from Beach House. Preserving the dream-like quality of their lauded nostalgia-laced ruminations, the duo refined their processes, tightened their structures and sharpened their melodies in comparison to the looser mood-piece feel of 2008’s (equally excellent in its own way) Devotion – a move which paid off to excellent effect. Hearing Teen Dream for the first time was enrapturing; a catalogue of quiet revelations – Legrand’s hooks hitting straight between the eyes with a previously unheard confidence, bolstered by a newfound clarity within the shimmering arrangements. Bloom, on the other hand, marks the first plateau in Beach House’s trajectory – not necessarily conceding a quasi-objective drop in quality, but undoubtedly signalling a stasis in their evolution; an album which sounds cut from exactly the same cloth as its predecessor.

There was strong indication of this with early preview ‘Myth’, a song which felt like slipping back into a warm bath, another dose of the velvety Teen Dream indulgence fans were aching for. Next we were treated to ‘Lazuli’ – an example of what a Beach House greatest hits compilation would sound like if distilled into a five minute package: a tinny beat and twinkling arpeggio giving rise (blooming, if you’ll forgive me) into a breathy cacophony of intertwined music-box vocal melodies. Luxurious and smoky as these morsels undoubtedly were, once the initial pleasure of having Beach House back had worn off, the unwelcome realisation hits: we’ve heard this before. Sticking with their well worn blueprint of mid-tempos and sweeping, languid melodies, tracks like ‘New Year’ and ‘On The Sea’ now sound featureless and drab – a foot in each boat between the aching melancholy of Devotion and the pop vitality of Teen Dream, achieving the heights of neither.

Ironically for a band with such a penchant for ostensible backward-gazing and repetition, Bloom’s insistence on occupying the same ground as Teen Dream marks the first disappointment of Beach House’s career. If you’re anything like me, you’ll have (quite rightly) played the last record to death by now, and a new album which plays like a collection of offcuts and flipsides to Teen Dream’s fresh ground doesn’t make for a satisfying follow up. Exactly where I wanted Beach House to go, I couldn’t tell you (although the conclusion of ‘Irene’ makes me wonder what might come of engaging more closely with the drone and dissonance elements at the peripheries of their sound). But what I can say with certainty is that they should have continued going somewhere. As is the nature of nostalgia, if you actually return to what you were yearning for, what you remember making you so happy the first time, another go around on the carousel is cripplingly unfulfilling – a sad reality which ultimately leaves Bloom sounding like a hollow repetition, a cold echo, a contender for Miss Favisham’s favourite album.

We Are Augustines – by Julia Stryj

By Julia Stryj

May 10, 2012

When I first heard about We Are Augustines and their tough past as individuals and the struggle towards the end of their previous band Pela, I was instantly amazed by the band’s determination and passion. Their surprisingly uplifting – considering it deals with a lot of the bumps that were on singer Billy McCarthy’s road – debut album Rise Ye Sunken Ships is constantly being listened to. Driving through the never ending rain to Glasgow to see them on their first proper headline tour since the album’s release in the UK, I find out that the support band is on at 19:45. That means a relaxed dinner is replaced by a quick take away as I don’t want to miss My Goodness.

Before the guys from Seattle come on stage Beastie Boys are played through the sound system, an obvious tribute to MCA. As soon as My Goodness start playing it’s clear to see and hear why the two-piece are compared to The Black Keys. Singer and guitar player Joel Schneider and drummer Ethan Jacobsen are playing raw Blues Rock’n’Roll in an incredibly loud and controlled way, but it’s still a lot livelier than The Black Keys.

It is a very nice touch that We Are Augustines watch their support act from the back of the audience, and I wonder how much longer they will be able to do this with hardly anybody in the audience noticing or recognising them.

The sold out ABC is filling up, which is great considering the gig was initially planned for a smaller venue, before We Are Augustines walk on stage to their ‘Instrumental’ song. They get right into their set, which covers the whole album plus the song Rise Ye Sunken Ships. After the first two songs most of the audience is infected by the band’s passion and soon it isn’t only the choruses that they are singing back.

This seems to give the already highly charged Brooklyn band even more energy for every song, culminating in ‘Book of James’ that singer Billy McCarthy introduces as a happy song even though it deals with the suicide of his brother James. The audience is doing as they are told and sing and dance along to the incredibly powerful song.

Billy, who keeps saying that he does not want the gig to end, is visibly overwhelmed by the reaction they get from the audience. Before he plays a wonderful version of ‘East Los Angeles’ on his own he tells us that we should never give up on anything we are passionate about referring to Eric and him having played for 10 years together and as We Are Augustines for a little over a year.

Rob Allen and Eric Sanderson return back to their instruments to perform their last two energetic songs, finishing off with ‘Chapel Song’. By that time Billy and Eric are continuously at the front of the stage to be closer to the enthusiastic audience and Eric ends up doing his first stage dive, smiling and playing the guitar while the crowd carried him back to the stage. This sparked Rob Allen on into a powerful drum “solo”, accompanied by Billy’s guitar, and Eric on keyboards, turning the 3-minute single into a 6-minute climax of an unforgettable gig.

All photos by Julia Stryj. More of Julia’s work can be found here.

Twin Shadow - Confess

Now Playing – twice every week, a roundtable of our writers will give their views on some of the recently-released new tracks. It’s as simple as that! If you want to tell us what you think of the song, feel free to leave a comment below.

Track: ‘Five Seconds’ by Twin Shadow

Average grade: 4.8

Anna: Whilst this is a. really ’80s b. generic in terms of new wave and c. repetitive lyrics wise, I enjoyed it. I feel dirty for having done so and for admitting it, but there you go. 7/10

Craig: Yes, this is very ’80s.  Now that the elephant in the room has been addressed, this is a pretty cool song in its own context.  Though the tone is gloomy, the beat doesn’t drone and make everything just a total bummer.  Plus, the singer’s voice is unique in that he wavers in and out of tune artfully which prevents him from sounding like a robot, or Interpol. 6/10

James: I’m pretty indifferent about this one, nothing really stands out. It’s just quite predictable and the chorus doesn’t really go anywhere. There’s some nice layering going on but I could easily live without it. 3/10

Harry: ‘Five Seconds’ isn’t really anything interesting at all. It’s not especially exciting, inspiring, evocative or ground-breaking, and it certainly isn’t memorable. It is cheesy and it is unimaginative – Another track with an obvious ’80s drum beat and a vaguely catchy melody. To be perfectly honest, I had to double check that this wasn’t a previous X Factor contestant attempting to reinvent their dwindling career by going a bit “disco”. 2/10

Stuart: Okay, now I might well be one of Musos Guide’s elder statesmen (or knackered and decrepit hacks, you decide) but I really can’t see whom this track is aimed at. The synth riff sounds as if it was nicked off an early demo for Berlin’s ‘Take My Breath Away’ and the guitar licks sound like Per Gessle covering ‘Owner of a Lonely Heart’ by Yes. The lyrics (and believe me even labelling them as such is a terrific stretch) are a repetitive insipid puzzle and about as entertaining as listening to an entire t.A.T.u. album whilst being molested by Dermot Murnaghan on crack.

I guess if you’re a big fan of Berlin – and a big fan of Roxette – and a big fan of Dermot Murnaghan – then ‘Five Seconds’ is the track for you. Personally, I can only wish it lasted only five seconds and Mr Shadow had stayed true to his name and never darkened my door with his horrible schtick. Oh, and he looks a bit like Craig David too – and that’s never a good thing. 2/10 (Yeah, and that’s because I quite like Roxette. ‘Look Sharp!’ is a belter of an album: put on ‘Sleeping Single’ rather than listening to this nonsense.)

Stef: I love this (I’m ignoring the beating the track gets above me). There’s something about that voice that really appeals to me, to me it is so full of emotion. Love how he goes from slightly bombastic to really understated, like the guitar and the layers, I think it is top notch stuff. Can’t wait for that album. 9/10

Peasant - Bound For Glory

By Richard Wink

I reviewed Peasant’s second album On the Ground back in 2009 for The 405. I unfavourably scored the album, and questioned Peasant’s artistic integrity. When re-reading the review I perhaps was a little harsh. Therefore when the opportunity to review Bound For Glory arose I was intrigued hear if Peasant aka Damien DeRose had grown as an artist, and I could somehow make amends by writing a more positive review. Subconsciously, I wondered – was I looking to restore the karmic balance in a ‘My Name is Earl’ kinda way?

The role of a critic is essentially redundant in the white water rapid information surge of today. By that I mean that whatever I say about Bound For Glory is unlikely to matter to Peasant, or indeed those who will listen to the album. There are thousands of ways to recommend this album, thousands of voices that may influence others. Judging by Peasant’s comments that On the Ground received “overwhelming” praise from the critics, my concerns about hurting his feelings seem back in 2009 seem quite frankly ridiculous. Enough digressing, I shall share my opinion on Bound For Glory right about now….

Sounding on the verge of tears, Peasant poignantly serenades us on the album’s title track, urging us not to worry. I am worried because this song is a real weepy, and there are moments when I get a little choked up. Oh, there is something in my eye. I reach for the box of Kleenex beside my laptop only to find it empty. ‘The Flask’ sees Peasant strained, his voice operating at a higher pitch. Already two tracks in and we have some variety. Steady rolling ‘Girls’ is a trad folk jam, bemoaning the fairer sex. ‘We’re Not the Same’ goes further down the rocky road, telling the story of a bitter break-up. Peasant is quite defiant here, looking to move on, but then she cried.

Whilst Peasant’s simplicity was his Achilles heel on previous releases, this time around describing situations succinctly over strums and sparse percussion fits, because there seems to be a definite sense of relate-ability here for the listener. Peasant sings about lost love, about those tender moments that faded to dust, and then blew away in the wind. We’ve all been there, and more often than not we’ve struggled to articulate and deal with those emotions.

‘Amends’ is probably my favourite time from the album, the one moment when Peasant gets it dead on. The lovely little piano melody that trickles throughout raises a wry smile. ‘Take It Light’ also is a mighty little trundle, with comforting hums and countrified chords. Finally, eleven songs in, ‘Pretty Good’ ups the tempo and tugs away the comfort blanket from our futile grasp. This doesn’t last along and we’re back in reflective mode, ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ draws the curtains, leaving us once again alone in the dark.

Bound For Glory is a weary listen, though Peasant has perfectly captured the mental disintegration, and the half thoughts and ponderables that rattle in a mind when a relationship breaks down. I’m loathed to say that this is a break-up record, more an album that reflects upon the end of something that once meant everything.