By Hearts + Horses - Park Avenue Music

Track list:

1. Norway Kitty
2. Strawberry Magnet
3. Palaces and Prisons
4. Soundtrack
5. Tufts
6. Saltwater
7. Piet
8. Roxy's Summer
9. Before
10. Japon Luvr

Running time: 40 minutes
Released: 2008

This is an oddity, as far as I recall. I believe it was a gift from someone I am no longer in touch with. I believe, too, that I didn't get on with it much (but that wasn't why contact was lost). I have no idea what to expect, so will have to simply dive in and hope for the best.

Opening lines are high pitched piano trills, a pleasant little tune, soon joined by some electronics that provide structure and percussion. I am overdue this listen - a very busy week and a wasted weekend preceded it and I am just winding down for my Sunday evening, wondering what to eat, and hoping the damp inspection I have booked for tomorrow morning gives me a path to resolving that problem so I can move on to dealing with the others. Still, enough about that - Norway Kitty is calming, relaxing, and a good antidote to stressful thoughts about the problems with being a home owner. I do wonder if there is quite enough to it beyond the 2 minute mark or so. A string melody appears for the close but it is a little out of tone with the rest somehow. Still, a decent beginning.

The same can't be said for the start of Strawberry Magnet, a horrid electronic screeching opening the tune for us. Thankfully it gives way quickly to a charming little piano melody. The electronics are still there though, and they are a little more eccentric than on the first track, a little less enjoyable. The tune did surprise me by having vocal elements. Not lyrics and singing, but vocalization that provides an element in places. Or... is that a trick of my ears and just more electronics? Yeah. Think I was mistaken - the pattern of the sounds used evoke a voice in some ways though.

A Scottish voice on Palaces and Prisons. I thought it was familiar; it's Gordon McIntyre from Ballboy. He is speaking over another layering of piano melody and electronic soundscape. I love McIntyre's voice, it is very soothing. His delivery, his pacing, is lovely and measured. It reminds me a lot of some Ballboy tracks - particularly A Europewide Search for Love and Something's Gonna Happen Soon. I like this track a lot. The next is short and flies by - but it is more of the same mix of piano and programming.

Another voice appears this time on Tufts. By this time Park Avenue Music's shtick is getting a little samey and familiar and I find myself hoping that they might mix it up in the next track or two. It isn't that I don't like what they are doing - I really do - but a really good trick does not mean it can't be one-note. That pony is going to get annoying sometime anyhow if it is all you ever get to ride. Ugh - mixing metaphors, taking it too far. Oh well. For all that I am groaning at the over-reliance on the same structures and forms, I am finding a lot to like in these tracks. The keys are used to build the sense of tone and emotion - mostly they are pleasingly charming little ditties - and at their best the electronics are understated and complement the melodies well.

The overall tempo is a slow one; these are whimsical comedown tunes, background music for modern art galleries or otherwise low key in their presentation. Piet gets to me though - here there is repetition of the main melodic hook, and given that I am already struggling with the degree of sameness between tracks, it rather hammers home that lack of diversity. Any of the tracks would be nice in the right context. I am not sure an entire album in one go is a good context for this music though. As we get into the final few tracks I find myself mentally disengaging from the sounds and from my effort to write about what I am hearing. My mind drifts back to the cricket that I have been mostly following on the radio for the past 3 days and to England's bizarre decision not to enforce the follow-on when nearly 400 to the good and amid inclement weather and cloudy skies. Conservative is too mild a rebuke. I think Roxy's Summer may just have been the most melodic of the lot here, but the distance I have put between myself and the music by letting my mind wander could be a confounding factor.

There is a different tone to the opening of Before, a little darker. It is all brought about by the swirling sounds in the electronics, almost siren like. The piano is as light as ever, cutting a path through the haze of whirling clicks and beeps. The novelty of the variant atmosphere is quickly pushed out by the familiarity of the overall pattern once the tune advances a bit further. True, the balance is different here - the keys have much less weight - but what else is really different?

The last track is the longest at over 5 minutes. Given the title it is no surprise that it has a hint of the (stereotyped) Japanese melody about it. It is somewhat telling, though, that this is about all I can find to convey about my thoughts. It's a very thin track - nice veneer, but no solidity to it. That probably sums up my thoughts about the album as a whole, really. Just to be clear I rather like each track in isolation; it's the 40 minutes of listening in one go that I don't think works. Probably that isn't what it was intended for. Probably, in this age of digital access and short attention spans, it is built for shuffle. It would be better if so, where each track can be a simple pleasure and then you get something else to change it up.

And that's that. I think it's just cheese and biscuits tonight; simple supper. No energy to cook, and no real hunger driving me.

Burning Dorothy - Thea Gilmore

Track list:

1. Sugar
2. Get Out
3. People Like You
4. Pontiac to Home Girl
5. Not So Clever Now
6. Instead of the Saints
7. Militia Sister
8. Throwing In
9. Bad Idea
10. Into the Blue

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 1998

I am sure I have written before about how Thea Gilmore is a favourite artist of mine. Probably more true to say "was", since I enjoy her earlier material more, and this is the earliest of the lot. I found her lyrics more pointed and relevant (to me) and that bite is what largely endeared me to Gilmore's work.  

It is revealed right from the off in Sugar; Gilmore was a feisty young woman - and despite this being nearly 2 decades old now, she is still not yet 40. I love the opening acoustic riff, it heralds the attitude that comes with the lyrics. It's not stunning composition or brilliant performance, but it is very on the nose and in sync with the song that follows. In truth, the body of the song is musically rather dull, but I love the vocal for what is said and how. I have not listened to this for a while, and I am getting a fuzzy sense of nostalgia. This listen is well overdue. I should have managed it yesterday, or during the week, but... ugh. Too many things to sort out, so as usual in such cases I end up procrastinating, escaping into something I shouldn't be doing and wondering how the rest of the world copes with the boring bits of property ownership. Roof, damp, boundaries... all need work.

The attitude continues into Get Out, and again we have what is a fairly catchy riff at first grow less interesting over the course of the song, and another fairly astute set of lyrics. This number is higher tempo, a little more lush too, but it doesn't quite hit the mark as well as Sugar. It's a brave move to completely stop the music for a lyrical bridge (a thin backing does come in during it) on a debut from a then teenager but, well: I am slightly biased here but Gilmore had a way with words from the off and that carries it. We strip back for the next tune, which ends up being rather thin - a couple of guitars picking out tunes behind a voice that almost speaks rather than sings in places. Not the best of hers.

My procrastination has seen far too many hours lost to a) listening to England fall to Pakistan in the first Test, and getting frustrated with my poor play in Overwatch, which is the current big thing in games, or something. Enough about that though. There are two star turns on this record if memory serves and Pontiac to Home Girl is one of them, a dark and moody piece, slow and churning chords, wailing notes and a regret-laden voice. I have always been a sucker for long lonely tones, and a lot of other things that conjure images of loneliness come to thing of it. It speaks to a common theme of my time. The music does repeat rather, patterns set early replay often, but when they are effectively atmospheric, I have no problem with that at all. I find the tunes ticking by quickly, I don't remember them being so short and snappy, but there's nothing much beyond 4 minutes on the disc.

Not So Clever Now is peppier, more lively, spiked, staccato, then a bit more expansive in the chorus. Again it is all about the words. I think I picked this up when I was about 22, a few years after it was made, but the anger and purpose of youth sat well with me. In some ways I never grew up, which is possibly why I still find the songs very appealing. The second pillar of this album is Instead of the Saints. Gorgeous sound on this, understated outrage. I can't find the right words to describe it. Musically its a fairly staid piece - sounds like a thousand other guitar pieces really - but in concert with Gilmore's words and vocal (and doubtless my nostalgia) it lifts into something powerful enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up.

I think it's fair to say that I am seeing the flaws with these pieces more on this listen. When I was younger I brushed off the critical opinion that Gilmore's compositions were letting her down, undermining the strength of the songwriting. However it is really hard to avoid that fact on re-examination. Too many simple hooks, too much reliance on these same.  I forgive her though; whilst I am not loving the songs in the way I recall doing so in the past, I am enjoying revisiting them. I remember really loving Throwing In, a sadness hanging over the song that made it something I might turn to when feeling down (I'm one of those misery loves company types that likes downbeat music when feeling blue). Oh god, that chorus... Gilmore's voice nails the little kernel of hope, whilst conveying sadness. The guitar part is pretty dull (see a theme yet?) but the emotion carried on her vocal is class... fragile but fine, down but not out.

Bad Idea has a nice roll; I remember this one having a little bit of bite, but as the nice becomes the boring the chorus breaks it up and I find that I don't much like the singing here - it is a little too shrill, affected, tight. It doesn't fit with the music so well this time either. Whilst I don't think Gilmore has the best voice ever, I think she generally uses what she has pretty darn well; here it all falls a little flat for me. I don't quite know why. Then, just like that we're into the home stretch.

I need to do some surgery on Into the Blue to cut out the silence of Hidden Track Bullshit and release the track (apparently called One Last Fight), but thankfully Wikipedia has given me clues to where the buried song begins, so there's less trial and error to slice through the silence. The listed song starts with those lonely notes that I fall for, and a distant-sounding vocal. It's a wistful tune, one that resonates rather. A regretful tune, "My God I'm sorry" forms the bones of the chorus. That emotion runs strong through the piece, and I find that endears it to me. Again, the song and composition could be any number of other artists or bands, could be utterly forgettable, but there is a synergy between those long notes and the sheer emotion in her voice - a strong presence without being overdone - that makes the track work for me. It's over very quickly though so I find myself skipping through the silence. The hidden track is a jangling, folk-rocky number where I think the carefree sound rather masks a pithy undercurrent and touchy lyric. I like the tune a lot actually; just wish it hadn't been buried after 5 minutes of dead air.

This album hints at what was to follow. It's far from perfect and lacks the polish that began to appear on later records. I remain rather fond of it, warts and all, because that rawness is best reflected in the attitude and the lyrics, which are the stronger points of the work.

Burn It - Filastine

Track list:

1. Hello, My Name Is...
2. Quémalo Ya
3. Palmares
4. Splinter Faction Delight
5. Judas Goat
6. Lucre
7. The Last Reboudt
8. Crescent Occupation
9. Autology
10. This Is a Fight
11. Boca De Ouro
12. Get on That Bullhorn & Leave the Fucking Country
13. Dance of the Garbageman
14. Ja Helo
15. 2nd Class Sleeper
16. Dreams From Wounded Mouth

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 2006

This, I think, came as part of a gift. I had never heard of Filastine before receiving it, but I remember being struck by it. I picked up Dirty Bomb later too, though no more of his material. And, for some reason, I conjured the idea that the artist was Portuguese. No idea why. What does Burn It sound like - that is the important thing? I don't remember, so let me listen to find out.

16 tracks in 45 minutes makes them quickfire, though the average is brought down by a number of sub-1 minute tracks, and those like the very first which are just over that mark, creating space for a couple of longer tunes (5 minutes plus) as a result. We begin with a sort of electronic staccato, sampled lines mashed together over a camo-pattern of a rhythm. Only when it drops out into Quémalo Ya with no pause for breath does the album really feel like it starts.

This is mainly rhythmic, a striking pulse of a beat, and a non-English rap - very fast paced. I guess it's Spanish and the artist Latino American rather than Portuguese (may they lose against France tonight)... but the root of my off-track impression all the same. I am less struck by the track now, though I like the pulse. That is a theme that continues into Palmares - here it gets layered with a horn line that has a very Latin feel to it. The combination works really well, giving a North African vibe to it. The vocal - again in another tongue - fits less well when it is there, somewhat distanced from the rest of the track. The percussion and melody lines though? I suspect right there sums up my interest in this album. They slide over and under each other so wonderfully.

I am far less fond of what comes next. The broken beats are interesting enough, but there is nothing to back them up or offset them and the vocal is not pleasant - harsh and guttural when male, ethereal and groundless when female. How this track ends up longer that Palmares is beyond me. It's a massive shame. The North African feel is enhanced in Judas Goat, a high pitched whining top end really gives an Arabian touch, whilst the rhythms are more Latin. Whilst the shrill pipes are harsh to the ear, they give the track a strong sense of personality, purpose and identity, and I really like the patterns put together with the programmed beats. Where the top end is dialled back a bit rather than full on the contrast between the two is pleasant as well as interesting, whereas the shrillness of the "melody" makes the more full on bits simply interesting. I find myself really wishing I could think of / remember the name of the instrument responsible for the wail, but I can't.

An interlude flies by; then we get more of the broken staccato electronica, where the theme sounds to stutter then pick up, and again, and again. I really appreciate this effect for some reason, and when it drops out in place of a more fluid track the tune becomes less interesting. It returns for what I guess is a chorus though. The first long track is Crescent Occupation and this comes with a really high paced rhythm to begin with, before morphing into an Arabian-sounding tune. The rhythm is kept up as the melody joins in, giving the piece a real energy even when that tune is, in places, quite sparse and laid back. I like that here the track has enough time to really sink in, allowing the listener to steep themselves in its sounds, and really get a strong image building up. The shorter tracks come and go so fast that the imagery is whisked away almost as soon as one starts to see the picture. It is fair to say that I like the effect, and want more of it - even as I recognise that actually by mixing it up like this the overall impact is probably increased.

What follows is quite dull for the first third of its length - a pretty flat rhythm. It isn't really saved by the addition of a vocal a minute in either. I don't find much to like in the vocal performance, can't understand the lyrics (though that is my failing not the music's) and there is not too much else added to the track to build it. It may as well have been another interlude, as the next item is. Yawn.

Hopefully with that past we get into better stuff again. I am getting a great or forgettable but nothing in between vibe from this. There is a pause as I wonder why the hell the playlist is out of sync with the album listing - its not Shuffle, and when I reload the album all is well but what an odd little confusion and annoyance. I got two interludes back to back, you see. Not what I wanted. Now I have an atmospheric track with English vocals for a change. It sounds familiar; the style of the female rap, and the tune could be any number of artists - it isn't that I have heard this track a lot, but ones like it are two-a-penny in my head (if not in truth). I hear an interlude a second time after the mix up and then we get the Dance of the Garbageman, the longest track on the record.

It begins with nothing but percussion - very metallic and snappy. This is, it seems the tone set. Over the next couple of minutes the rhythm varies, steps up and crescendos and the track gets some sampled voices here and there, but there is very little approaching a tune. It could be Stomp - which is what the title of the track makes me think of anyway! Over time there is a touch more variation added but never much in the way of a top end. It's not actively unattractive as a piece, but neither does it do much to engage me and I find my eye drawn to the silent TV and the opening exchanges of the 2016 Wimbledon final. On Serve; Murray not yet imploding.

Ooh, that's a more interesting rhythm, a few heavier beats structuring the piece whilst higher tempo, lighter ones provide a sense of "tune". This feels weighty, and is added to by the vocal - a female harmony which has a similar sense of weight and tone to it. The atmosphere of the track is lovely, but the reality of it is a little disappointing; it doesn't kick on and I find my attention drifting again before it closes. Suddenly I am on the final track - a 17 second interlude gone before I knew it had been reached.

The closing track has a similar sense of seriousness to it, a rueful air to the vocal. The percussion doesn't have quite the same gravity as it interferes with the long held notes in the voice, quite deliberately. The broken or inconsistent effect this leaves is rather nice, amplifying the impact of that vocal at the points that it is given space to breathe.

And then it is over. All in all, I can see why I went after more; when it is good it is very good. I will be getting rid of some chaff here - the interludes, for a start, but damn if there aren't a couple of really fine tunes here. Palmares is the stand out, but that fusion of influences is felt more widely, and that makes me happy.

Burlesque - Bellowhead

Track list:

1. Rigs Of The Time
2. Jordan
3. Across The Line
4. London Town
5. Sloe Gin
6. Courting Too Slow
7. Flash Company
8. Hopkinson's Favourite
9. One May Morning Early
10. The Outlandish Knight
11. Frogs' Legs and Dragons' Teeth
12. Fire Marengo
13. Death And The Lady

Running time: 60 minutes
Released: 2006

This album kicked off a little bit of an obsession. I have already had course to write about (the now sadly no-more) Bellowhead on these pages and it was here that my infatuation with their music and shows began. Well, sort of. Picking this up was not my first exposure - tracks from E.P.Onymous came up on a LastFM station I picked one time - but it is the point at which interest became adoration. It is hard to imagine that is 10 years ago now.  I don't listen to Burlesque much so I can't in good conscience tag it a favourite; some tunes here are overdone through a decade of live performance, though others remain fresh. Some are just better done by Spiers & Boden as a duo. But this album does also contain on of my favourite tracks, one that I only got to see live once in years of regular gig-going. Now it is time to revisit all of it.

It is a little bit of an odd start. Chaotic, like a warm up, before Jon Boden's voice kicks in. The arrangement of our 11 piece has a circus-like air to it, with Boden the ringmaster. I haven't heard Rigs of the Time for an age, but it does rather encapsulate Bellowhead in a nutshell. Strong, charismatic vocal performance backed by a rich and varied set of skills an personality in the playing. Today is my last full day of holiday; off to the seaside for a final swim later, then lunch by the beach and a drink in one of my favourite spots. Tomorrow I fly home, and in 50 hours I will be back at work. I'd say 48, but I have to account for the 2 hour time difference.

Jordan was a live staple until the end, not an every gig number, but not far off. Here, on record, there is a much stronger presence for Rachel McShane, the only lady in the group, who is clearly audible alongside Boden's commanding tones. Both have solo works to appear on this project before it is done. This song is a striking number, strident and powerful; McShane was never this audible in concert though - possibly because the whole line up gave it a bit more welly live. Now we hit Across the Line, arranged by drummer Pete Flood (also has a solo album to come); this song I love to bits - there's a real haunting theme of loss in the main melody that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. This has none of the bombast of the two prior tracks, much more of an emotional appeal rather than a tub-thumping one.

The recording sounds flatter than in my memory; I think I cling tightly to the one time I saw them play it - in Cheltenham a few years back - and I am sure the arrangement evolved a bit between recording and then. The essence of the song is the same though and it... is ruined by some fucker with a loudspeaker driving by outside; no idea what that is about. I kid - the song isn't ruined, but the sanctity of my listen is disturbed by that and the resultant dogs barking (so many dogs and feral cats here it is unbelievable; screeching and barking at all hours).

Back to a live favourite now. I wont be doing the "actions" whilst listening and typing, but my muscles do reflexively want to point up and down in time with the chorus. The peppy pace and melodic tune are much more noticeable on record as the focus in a live crowd is all on the lyrics and the bolder, brassier pronouncements in the arrangement. Here I am noticing subtleties in the playing that are completely lost at gigs. Boden doesn't hold that one note for an impossible time on the album version either. After one live tune that stayed fresh, on to one that really didn't. I think I have vented about Sloe Gin on one of the live album discs (here or here) so I am not going to do so again, but rather let it slide by without comment, save to say that it is annoying me a little less than I expected.

Right, that over with, onwards.

Courting too Slow is, well... a little too slow. I have never really been a fan of it for that reason - whether Bellowhead or Spiers & Boden (as on Bellow, with bonus anti-Sloe Gin feeling). There may be a bit of too close to the truth to it, too - not literally but figuratively. I actually think, hearing it here, that I was off the mark with my comments in the Bellow post; the arrangement here is better than I remembered but it is largely still forgettable. We have dived into a slow patch, because Flash Company also has no pace to it. It begins with Boden warbling over chaotic percussion, and sporadic interventions from the wider band. It is a sonic mess, as it only really picks up a proper (vaudeville-inspired) tune after 2 of the 3 minutes. I just find it dull. Thankfully those cobwebs are blown away by Hopkinson's Favourite, a much more energetic number.

I keep getting this one and Fire Marengo (to come later) mixed up in my mind despite this being an instrumental, and Fire Marengo the "disco sea shanty" (as per live introductions). Actually Hopkinson's is not a favourite; it does well to reset expectation after two stately songs and it has its moments, but on record it is a little flat and repetitive until the 2:40 mark where we get the first and bassy exclamation. It is a much better track live.

One May Morning Early is a light-touch melody, high harmony song. It is one that I have overlooked, clearly. I really like the way they intertwine the various voices here. Boden, McShane and Paul Sartin are all very clearly audible in different places, and I am sure more of the ensemble are involved too. I find myself really liking it despite the slow pace; a nice surprise. We then dive into another number from Spiers & Boden's stable (and again discussed under Bellow). Here it is given a long-ish intro before the striking fiddle staccato kicks us in. The major plus point here over the duo version is the puff of the horns in the bass; the voice is actually too quiet though - weird that Boden wouldn't still be the loudest thing on the recording. He sounds distant, behind glass here. I think on balance that is probably the biggest reason I prefer the Bellow recording; that and the sheer impressiveness of making that much sound from two guys. Here, actually, there are significant portions of the song which get stripped back to a similar point, too - and that strikes me as a shame, not fully employing the resources to the task.

Just like I couldn't point and type, nor can I bounce up and down. Last encore familiarity. Far less engaging on record, but I can't hear it without picturing the antics of the band on stage. I am talking, of course, about Frogs Legs and Dragon's Teeth. It feels a little odd to get this in the middle of the disc. Wow, I am mistyping every other word at the moment. Never has a backspace key seen such regular use. Fingers too fast for my brain or vice versa. The tunes are still enjoyable, but it is largely that live association that is so embedded in my psyche that keeps them so; the horns that close it seem brighter and sharper than live though, as a final odd touch, then we're into disco territory.

The drums on Fire Marengo sound like handclaps in places, so much that I wonder whether they didn't record a clap track; they must have done. This song sees Boden in true demagogue mode, not contributing to most of the chorus lines - leaving his lackeys to do that. You can hear the strut in his voice, and it is marvelous. The man is such a performer, unquestionably the best I have ever seen for sheer charisma, force of personality and commanding a stage in any discipline. It's really hard to judge cross-style things; the strongest stage acting performance I have seen was Mark Strong in Under the Bridge where he absolutely killed it, but I would happily back Jon Boden in a head to head for charisma. My musical bias, perhaps, but the man is a born performer.

The final number (my, the hour has gone fast) is Death and the Lady, which sees McShane sharing vocals again. I love how their voices wind around each other - her more delicate and clearly northern tones offsetting his bolder ones. I actually find the arrangement here great. The tune is a very stately one (I have other versions) but they create space in the top end to explore and add oodles of interest. The wandering trumpet is the star here though. When they pick up the pace with the drums but maintain the plod of the accordion playing the standard pace, it falls apart a little. Here the two-speed sound really doesn't work for me. Thankfully it is but a small part of the tune, which as a whole is far, far more interesting than I remembered. Suddenly it is done, and I am left with the task of hitting publish, then going back through old posts to find references to this - of which there are a few.

Build a Boat to the Sun - Sea of Bees

Track list:

1. Test Yourself
2. Karma Kard
3. Old Bridge
4. Ease
5. Don't Follow Me
6. Little Sea
7. Dan
8. Moline
9. Dad
10. Monk

Running time: 43 minutes
Released: 2015

Random pickup time. This came out last year sometime and I think Sea of Bees just happened to be rated "similar" to enough people I was interested in for me to pick it up. Can't remember a darn thing about it before I start though so it is a mini voyage of discovery.

Before I begin, I rather like the list of snappy track titles, but I can't help recalling Alan Partridge when I see the word "Dan" in isolation. That irrelevance aside, on to it. We are straight into vocals, no intro. A fast start, punchy rhythm, catchy. The voice is a little stretched thin for comfort - tight, a little shrieking - but full of life. Test Yourself is not the most interesting song you'll ever hear but the composition does have a jangling sort of appeal. Yesterday was a busy day with no chance to get to this; 13 people to cater for. This morning a swim was the most I had to deal with and so fitting in a listen on my penultimate full day away feels right. The song has moved on in time, but not in form - the catchiness that it exhibited up front has worn a little thin. 5 minutes was too long.

There's a more pleasing fuzz to the sound of the guitars on Karma Kard, a dirt and grit to the basis of the track that suits it. The vocal is fuller, too - achieved as much through the echo effect as from a change in how the song is sung, but welcome all the same. The song itself is so-so. It keeps the benefits of the less clean notes and vocal, but the composition is deathly dull. I find number like this particularly disappointing - where elements I like are driven to irrelevance by some unrelated factor that steals all the joy of that initial contact, sucking it out and blasting it into space. For all that, the song gives me hope that there will be something better to come.

Old Bridge seems to be that something better, right away. This song is very conventional, but has a perfect synergy between the high pitched vocal and the simple but effective guitar and drums forming the skeleton of the track. And it then has a variation that sets the voice off better. OK, so the music under that variation is basically a single note repeated too often but that provides enough of a contrast with the basic form that it still works. Definite improvement, do like. Not every song or artist needs to do something different to be interesting; implementing the tried and tested well can work too. I am trying to place who the vocalist reminds me of. I definitely have other female artists with this sort of tight-throated sound, but I cannot place a name right now. Frustrating. The vocal style changes as I finish that sentence - a quieter acoustic track with a less flat and tense sound, at least for the first couple of lines. There is a harmony effect in what I guess is the chorus, and here those tensions appear again. I wonder if the tightness is actually just a concoction of the overlaid voice (or voices). I am unclear from listening whether there is actual harmony going on, or an artifact of recording and overlaying from a single vocalist. I suspect the latter, and suspect that the truth lies somewhere in the middle - a naturally taut voice that is exaggerated by the effect.

Still, the quality of the output has picked up; not enough to have me looking to pick up more Sea of Bees material - it is a little too conventional to stand out that much - but certainly enough to enjoy that which I have. On to Dan, then, and with the obvious joke already made I only have the sounds to comment on. There is a keyboard part here that I find helps lift the otherwise fairly monotonous base. A dash of electronics in the high registers, and a wandering of the voice then spice the track up more. I find myself on the fence with it though - the vocal veers too far down the quirky for me and the basic pattern is mundane. Bits to like, bits not to like.

I think in another mood on another day, or listening in another context, I might like this rather better. I find that it is maybe just a little too standard for listening above anything else, but it would be much easier on the ears if my brain was free to do other tasks. I really like Moline though; best yet. It in some ways is the most mainstream and standard form track I have heard thus far, yet it is also executed really well, with a real care matching the vocal to the music. I guess sometimes everyone else got it right first? By contrast I hate the intro to Dad, where the voice is a hard-to-bear wail. Once the track proper gets moving it becomes much more appealing - the voice settles down and the pattern of the track sets an easily appreciated rhythm and flow. The pacing on the main riff works for me more than anything else. Simple and catchy, punchy between lines.

Final track Monk slows us down, sobers us up, sombres us out. OK, sombre is not a verb but so what. I prefer her voice when it goes contemplative like this, and I find that here that is backed up with a richer sound, whilst the drums are slightly tinny the horns are soft and expansive. It closes as my mind wanders, writing far less than I should have on a closer that leaves me feeling much more charitable about the whole record. I still can't see myself going in for more See of Bees material, but I have gone from lukewarm to positive about this one.

Buffalo - The Phoenix Foundation

Track list:

1. Eventually
2. Buffalo
3. Flock of Hearts
4. Pot
5. Bitte Bitte
6. Skeleton
7. Orange & Mango
8. Bailey's Beach
9. Wonton
10. Golden Ship

Running time: 42 minutes
Released: 2011

A favourite now. I remember getting this when it came out in the UK - I think some time after it had been out in their native New Zealand (yes, I am using Kiwi as the nationality tag). I don't recall what prompted me to get it because whilst I had heard of The Phoenix Foundation, and already had Horsepower (and/or Pegasus, I'm not sure which) I hadn't been that impressed with what I had heard. I am very glad I did though; Buffalo was one of my favourite releases from 2011, and it led me to a great gig and several more TPF albums.

Eventually starts with a mellow spacey introduction, a detached-sounding voice joining it. It's a low-key opener. Despite being on holiday I have not had a chance to do any of this for the past week, spending time swimming and eating at beachfront tavernas instead and trying to put thoughts of the horror of Brexit out of my mind to mixed success. My vacation has but a few days left to run, and I am now back with stable internet and more free time for the remainder to enjoy things like music. The tones here remain other-worldly, echo-y, throughout. It's music to relax to, gentle swells, like the waves around Naxos where I passed the week. I do think that, perhaps, it runs a little long. Whilst lush, the tune doesn't have that much in the way of engagement to it to justify the 5+ minute length.

The title track is, thankfully, a little more peppy, with a nice simple riff and a higher tempo. The vocal still carries elements of echoing harmonics, a reference point against the preceding number, but the track as a whole has a very different feel. It is fun, but nonsense. Buffalo in the ocean... what? In general I would prefer more meaningful lyrics rather than any old gubbins put up to make the right line structure or fit to the chords already committed. I hadn't realised this before but the album cover hints at this whacky idea.

I think the core of the album is the next few tracks. Flock of Hearts is a gentle roll, a sort of super-laid back tune that actually manages an effortless cool in a way that Jack Johnson just failed to for me. There is just a little more richness in the sound without being overwhelming - little riffs or sections that lift it, and more interplay between the elements. The star turn though is Pot. This song just kills it, a really catchy base structure and then a sublime harmonised vocal. The way the layers sit over and under each other is just perfect. I can't really hear the intricacies fully here - or at least, the experience is a little dulled compared to when I first heard it - but when the wandering electronics come in as an in-between line it takes off, the three elements setting each other off perfectly. It also closes before you get bored of the gorgeous harmony and start wanting something more substantial. A glorious number.

Catchy rhythm is the basis for Bitte Bitte. Its not rocket science, its not the most accomplished songwriting, but it is effective. Tempo, structure, and variation. The lyrics are a play on words (one that doesn't really work too well for me), and veer into nonsense more than I would like, but they fit the crucible they are offered well enough. I am less a fan of how the song concludes though, ooh-oohing its way out. There is a change of tone and feel for Skeleton; it's a little janky and spooky, but the vocal floats out nicely over the wind-effect. The chorus is a little bleak (burning bodies in the fields); this is not a carefree track. I rather like the tonal contrast with what has come before - and what follows; that light and dark, off and on, yin and yang. Too much of the same thing gets dull.

What comes next is light and silly. Orange & Mango is happy and clappy, a bop-along feelgood tune despite - again - utterly weird and nonsense lyrics. The chorus ("It takes two to tango, like an orange and a mango") is infectious and its hard to be too churlish about the words on this project when I can only report on them because I know them ahead of the listen. This track - like the album as a whole, and probably like The Phoenix Foundation's overall portfolio - is a mood piece.

Painting emotions with music rather than writing killer songs; there is certainly a place for this approach.

We come down again now, lower key, slower tempo. Almost soporific, but relaxingly so rather than boringly. Its a calm little drift on a gentle current. Little blooms in the music functioning as localised currents in a stream, adjusting the flow and direction. Like watching water run and swirl, it's easy to get carried along, submitting to the low-care nature. I have never met an up-tight Kiwi; whilst there must be some, a natural and easy-going approach seems to be a national trait.

Wonton raises the tempo a little, but only enough to trap you in a faster flowing stream which will soothe and carry you to relaxation as much as the slower numbers. I find myself trapped in the main riff, excluding the trills this time. The natural cadence of these tunes is perfectly judged. They is no forcing anything, they flow, they sway, they just are.  The final number has a lusher sound; the vocal is detached again, as has been a common thread on this work, but the overall feel to Golden Ship is very different from Eventually despite sharing these traits. There is more purpose here, a stronger driving force behind the drum and guitar base that the spacier sounds absorb and surround. It's not a quick piece by any means but it is a more directed one. The opening tune was free to drift, this moves with purpose.

There are many, many holes in this album that actual music critics would probably fall over themselves to poke through, but for me it just works. The rich, lush, layered sounds entice and entwine me, and make the album as a whole a very comforting and familiar friend. Pot, though, stands head and shoulders above any other tune here; it is just a wonderful 3 and a half minutes that I wish I could share with more people. Oh, wait; I don't normally do this, but:

Video is weird as hell, mind.

Buena Vista Social Club - Buena Vista Social Club

Track list:

1. Chan Chan
2. De Camino a la Vereda
3. El Cuarto de Tula
4. Pueblo Nuevo
5. Dos Gardenias
6. ¿Y Tú Qué Has Hecho?
7. Veinte Años
8. El Carretero
9. Candela
10. Amor de Loca Juventud
11. Orgullecida
12. Murmullo
13. Buena Vista Social Club
14. La Bayamesa

Running time: 60 minutes
Released: 1997

This is one of the albums that I have very strong memories around. It was a common player in my 2nd year student accommodation as it was one both myself and my then flatmate had a strong affinity for, especially having seen the accompanying film. I return to is sparingly these days - as with everything! - and really it is only the immediate opening of Chan Chan that sticks with me. That said, there is more to the disc than that.

Still, it is there we start, strong chords, considered rhythm and then the harmonious vocal. Takes me back a good few years. Timeless, though - definitely dated, but not in a way that suggests irrelevance any time soon. I cannot understand the first thing about the lyrics, but I can certainly appreciate the lyricism in the delivery - a nice flow to the chorus phrases both in terms of emphasis and rhythm, and the horns that answer it are gorgeous. The track that follows up has a much lighter, carefree feel. It isn't as visceral, not as immediately affecting. It is accompanied by the chirping of some kind of local insect providing a live percussion to go with the digitally served main attraction. It is bright outside, but was supposed to rain today - a stroke of luck in what has been a depressing couple of days. I am not really feeling this track though. Its gentle inoffensiveness is just a bit too bland, and it is this blandness which allows the insects outside to intrude.

In truth their incessant calls at mid afternoon are something of a surprise; I am more used to these things happening at dusk. I lose track of them as El Cuarto de Tula starts - this is a more vibrant number, more engaging and enjoyable. A stronger rhythm and bolder sounds (horns, more horns!) makes for a better piece, though I now find my ear inexorably drawn to the drums and caught in a loop that suddenly seems to dominate the track. This song goes on a fair while, so that domination is not appreciated... I can't blame the musicians for where my ear has happened to fall though.

The Buena Vista Social Club story is an enchanting one, a relic of the strange timewarp that was (and to a degree still is, I guess; I wouldn't know) communist Cuba. Good music helps one engage with stories, and this story was very much built around the music and its appeal. I would certainly recommend checking out the film if you have any curiosity about the music. In isolation on the soundtrack, you get only part of the picture - albeit the most significant part. Pueblo Nuevo is a nice piano number. I was - in accordance with the biases I have expressed many times before - very much drawn to pianist Rubén González, just shy of 80 at time of recording, and this playful little tune is a good example of that affinity. The keys appear to wander all over whilst drums and guitars provide a  suitable backdrop for such meandering. You can certainly imagine this being played by much younger men in a lively Havana bar for appreciative crowds, but perhaps the most golden moment in the tune is how it closes, wonderfully bringing that wandering to a point, swelling, signalling the end and then accepting the (imagined) applause.

The album is stacked with longer tracks towards the start and we now hit a run of shorter (sub 4-minute) pieces, racking through them. I am partial to Dos Gardenias - horns once more, but also the theatre in the vocal. It is funny, though how for most of these tunes I cannot associate the sound to the given track name. I can recognise them as they start, but not pull from memory. I find myself liking the more piquant guitar tracks, where the pluck has a bit of bite rather than a languid air. If the guitar contents to be support, fine - by all means keep things loose and gentle - but where its melodies are the lead, that spice and intent is vital to carrying an interest. That said, whilst that edge is present on Veinte Años, the pace is a little too relaxed for my taste, even before the sound is ruined by a car alarm blaring off somewhere nearby.

The alarm continues through the opening dark thrum of El Carretero, which is a shame. This track has a drama to it. Despite a very simple basic form there is an energy to it, a pulse, a closeness. It is rather magical, and the hum in the primary vocal line in places sets this off nicely. The track that follows tries to re-bottle that lightning with a slightly different rhythm. In truth it suffers for following on so immediately; it is far from a bad tune but it is less interesting for the similarity.

One of the reasons that my listens have been sparse of late is that, in summer, primacy goes to listening to the cricket. Test Match Special is the pinnacle of radio as far as I am concerned, but after play finishes (often quite late) I am loathed to listen to anything else in an active capacity. I bring this up because were I not abroad and unable to access the netcast of commentary I would not be fitting this in now. England are doing pretty well, it seems from text commentary; just as they did in the Rugby yesterday. I half regret not being able to follow properly for a brief moment - but then remind myself of the climate and other benefits of being away and forget. Off to the islands tomorrow; can't wait. On the record Candela finished and the much more gentle strains of Amor de Loca Juventud emanate from my speaker. I am a little disengaged from it again - too "nice" for the here and now.

Not that "nice" is a bad thing. Nice makes great fire-and-forget background music, which fits nicely with one stereotype of this sort of Latin number - itinerant musicians playing for their supper whilst tourists dine. Unfortunately Orgullecida has a little too much of this, exacerbated by the almost Hawaiian trills. The horns save it, because when the main theme is taken up by brass rather than string it is much more enjoyable, more contrast and purpose. We are nearing the back end of the disc now, and we dive back into another piano-led number. It is a little rambling - and not in the joyful, engaging way of Pueblo Nuevo. It is a more sombre song, as the vocal performance makes clear, carrying as it does a hint of melancholy. Then it is gone. The title track which follows has a degree of strut to it, whilst it is slow and relatively sparse and quiet compared to the brash boast of Chan Chan, there is something similar in attitude if nothing else. The piano reminds me of Monk for some reason, the fluid nature of the play perhaps?

This feels like something that should have a very deliberate dance to accompany it, not something that should languish at the back end of the album. The impact and nature of the piece are diluted somewhat for me coming, as they do, after a few slower pieces without the same intensity. Something about the pace not feeling quite right.

The final number is the shortest, a slow harmony that - it seems to me - should never be sung before sundown. It has a nice sound, one that evokes closing time. Appropriate then that it should close the album and this listen. I have largely enjoyed this, as indeed I expected to, but I did find that it drifted a bit in the middle. A strong start and a strong end, with some highlights scattered in between make Buena Vista Social Club a welcome part of my library; it is a classic that deserves some occasional love.

Bubblegum - Mark Lanegan Band

Track list:

1. When Your Number Isn't Up
2. Hit the City
3. Wedding Dress
4. Methamphetamine Blues
5. One Hundred Days
6. Bombed
7. Strange Religion
8. Sideways in Reverse
9. Come to Me
10. Like Little Willie John
11. Can't Come Down
12. Morning Glory Wine
13. Head
14. Driving Death Valley Blues
15. Out of Nowhere

Running time: 49 minutes
Released: 2004

I can only have this because I adored the contrast that came of the combination of Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan. I would never have come across him were it not for the partnership with Campbell, whose waifish voice is a polar opposite to his gruff drawl. I don't figure that I listened to this much at all, and I suspect I may be cutting a fair bit, but time to give it a shake.

The start is not what I expect. A soft, tinkling piano, isolated and alone. This is soon replaced by a slow and deliberate riff and drum pattern, then Lanegan almost speaking - there is just a hint of musicality in the delivery - a lyric over this low slung considered structure. I rather like it. I am away on holiday, in Greece. I have not got to these pages recently. My nation is imploding - politely and less so. I am trying not to let short-sightedness and xenophobia ruin my break. That is proving tough.

Hit the City is harder, more insistent, more reminiscent of the grungy rock that I was expecting. The edge isn't really there - it has a muted tone, a fuzz, and the hammered guitar chords are subservient to the dueling voices as Lanegan is joined by a female accomplice. It is a short tune, and we're past it before I know, and into a deliberately paced, bluesy structure which, whilst quite simple and unengaging in itself, seems to work really well with the gravel-toned croon that lies above it. There is a definite primacy of the voice here - the compositions are leaving it a lot of space and appear to be kept simple to allow it to shine.

I find myself wanting to vent about the stupidity of Brexit, the ridiculousness of those with the least to gain voting down those with the most to lose. The smug and the vile amongst the leaders. I don't wish to do so, though. Despondency is high on the list of feelings just now, but I am in a lovely climate, not currently at work... more established rants can wait. Positivity is more becoming, in general, though negativity screams loudest. Lanegan has growled his way through Metamphetamine Blues whilst I have been vacillating on that point, and I am now faced with One Hundred Days which has a much lighter feel to it, cleaner and aired well without really shaking up the basic format. A touch more top end, and a touch more duration to explore the theme further. This is really rather nice. Simple, not special, but rather nice.

I think I was off with my prediction of cuts. A third of the way in there is no knife to wield, and no realisation of the apprehension I had that this would be full of harder rock numbers that bored or turned me off. No, this seems to strike a more mellow chord - slower, more considered and crafted, not rocket-fuelled, rage-filled angst. The overall tone has been lighter than I expected, too. There are moments of darkness in the playing, but the application of the voice has been more nuanced. That said, I don't like Sideways in Reverse at all - here the track is taken over by dull guitars, a perfect example of what I just said hadn't been present. Thankfully the following tune appears to head back to sparse instrumentation, crucible for a slower vocal, again a duet.

Lanegan seems to be good at atmosphere, I want to say laconic, but that isn't the right word at all, neither is sardonic. What is the expression for this sort of lazy drawl... deliberate but effective. I can't think of one that encapsulates it right. At moments he sounds Waitsian, at others more like E, from Eels. In all things I find him more interesting the slower he seems to pace his delivery - a quicker roll to Like Little Willie John makes the song less enjoyable, and the less said about Can't Come Down the better. There will be some excisions, just not too many.

Sombre reflection suits him, considered and clear threads of guitar, simple and sparse drum patterns and long vowels. This isn't exciting music, but rather soothing. There is a melodic quality to Lanegan's vocalisation, despite the roughness around the edges; if that roughness was planed out then it wouldn't have half the appeal. I recognise I have a bit of a thing for whisky-soaked, cigarette-smoked, gravel-strewn throats. Huskiness, imperfection... humanity. I even find myself getting into the groove of Head, which is richer in composition.

My immediate reaction to the driving pace of Driving Death Valley Blues is to flinch away. This is a generic American rock form that I am not overly keen on. It delivers on energy and repetition, fine if either of those things are your jam, but not on the interest or craft or construction that draws me towards people with Lanegan's type of voice. The closing track which follows it though... light acoustic lead in, contrast with the voice, and then with bass and drums, it all works much better. Light and dark, substance and shadow. Theme, presence. Not enough vocal - the long instrumental middle is lacking something - but that voice appears again to bring us to a close. Overall I have liked this, though enough of it fell flat to be a bit of a frustration. I'm not about to go look out his work with Queens of the Stone Age, for example, but... when it is geared more towards the cooperation with Campbell... I'd happily take more of that.

Bryter Layter - Nick Drake

Track list:

1. Introduction
2. Hazey Jane II
3. At the Chime of a City Clock
4. One of These Things First
5. Hazey Jane I
6. Bryter Layter
7. Fly
8. Poor Boy
9. Northern Sky
10. Sunday

Running time: 39 minutes
Released: 1971

From one white boy with a guitar to another - but there I think the similarities start dying out. I waver on which of Nick Drake's material I like best - though reading down the track list I see three particular favourites. I actually listened to this a couple of days ago, whilst preparing the house to have 5 friends round all day, because I'd been wanting to sit and listen since I saw it was up next. This time, I'm here and can write.

The Introduction is a pleasant guitar melody and a swell of strings. The thing about this Drake album in particular is the arrangements, the depth beyond his guitar. They are lush, peaceful and serene - far from the stereotype of dark and troubled songs with a lone guitar flickering alone. I always found it odd when part II of a song appeared before part I - as with Hazey Jane here. I have always adored the roll of II; I don't think its his best track, but there is a nice lilt to it, a thrum in the guitar lead, and a buzz in the horns. It is a nice, breezy number and plenty accessible. Drake has one of those timeless voices; because he died so young he is remembered young, pictured young, heard young. That youth, to me, is epitomised by the vocal here feeling fresh, still, some 45 years on.

I love the use of strings here. The arrangements are simply superb, and the sax that offsets Drake's voice on At the Chime of a City Clock is weighted nicely too. I'm not a huge fan of the wandering saxophone like this, but it is judged well for the most part. One of These Things First has always been a favourite and its the piano line that makes it so. The guitar wanders and provides the lower end, but its when the piano hits the high notes that I smile the most. Listening closely, I find the drums a little too prevalent for what is a rather staid rhythm, but that really is quibbling. A little further from the speaker, or a little less concentration and they would fade back into the wider arrangement.

It's impossible to sit and ruminate on Nick Drake and his music without coming back to the tragedy of his death, the sheer popularity of his music in recent years and the complete obscurity at the time. It's a well trodden path, written about with more care, knowledge and aplomb than I could muster. What astounds me is the idea that something this easy paced, beautifully arranged and accessible could have bombed. I got into Nick Drake at university. I hadn't heard of him at all before then, but a friend had all of the studio albums and I picked them up not long after he introduced me. I am guilty of not returning to them often enough; this listen is proving that. The title track is an instrumental which surprises me - I don't remember enough of the less famous tracks; Bryter Later, Fly, Sunday... all had no imprint in my mind before this unlike, say, Northern Sky - which has been flying round my head for about 3 days now.

Fly is, actually, not that nice. Certainly it is a big step down from what has been before. The intimacy of the vocal is different, and the playing supporting Drake feels less apt, despite being provided by two well known musicians in their own right (and the same pair that support Northern Sky, to come). I think its the vocal recording that makes this feel weird. Oh well - a step down from lofty heights still leaves plenty to enjoy. Poor Boy is one of those songs I don't recognise from the name, but I do from the sound. The backing singers, the sax part, the piano... it comes together nicely, and again has a gentle roll to it. Its a long track, and I found myself staring into space for most of it, ears loosely tracing the patterns of the tune, dimly aware of its progress. I snap back into focus for the beginning of Northern Sky which really is the most beautiful track... There is a haunting element to the vocal here, offsetting a truly glorious melody - largely provided by the piano, but the construction of the bass part is crucial too. If you only listen to one Nick Drake song... make it this one. I am not convinced it is my favourite (I have a very soft spot for Place to Be from Pink Moon as my gateway), but it is, I think possibly his best.

Sunday is positively ghastly by comparison, which is to say that it is a perfectly serviceable instrumental lead out. In another context it would be a very enjoyable little tune, but it feels like such a climb down here - even at its zenith. I find it appearing to go on forever (it is under 4 minutes); it just feels like the album ended already. Now that it has, I think I need to repeat Northern Sky one more time...

Brushfire Fairytales - Jack Johnson

Track list:

1. Inaudible Melodies
2. Middle Man
3. Posters
4. Sexy Plexi
5. Flake
6. Bubble Toes
7. Fortunate Fool
8. The News
9. Drink the Water
10. Mudfootball (For Moe Lerner)
11. F-Stop Blues
12. Losing Hope
13. It s All Understood
14. Flake (live)
15. Inaudible Melodies (live)

Running time: 53 minutes
Released: 2001

OK so. This takes me back. Not quite to 2001 as I came to it later than that. In 2002-2003 I found myself in an inadvisable situation which, amongst other things, exposed me to Jack Johnson. For whatever reason I picked up this, and On and On, so my first impressions must have been good. However since then he's pretty much been an auto-skip. Forcing myself to listen (and because I have the British version, I get two bonus live renditions; woo!) is a good way to confront the biases I may have built up.

I have been quiet here of late, and this post is overdue. Busy as the weeks are, a long weekend would normally have offered me the opportunity to make up for no evening posts, but a combination of a 6 1/2 hours of driving (plus knock on tiredness) and my antipathy for this particular listen put paid to that. Still, here I am to buck it up. There is a lazy feel to the opening guitar line, an almost smug laziness in fact. It's as if it thinks it is so cool it doesn't have to try, so doesn't. I can't tell if I hate it or secretly admire it. So empty and yet...

It feels a little like a busker on the street, tapping into something done by someone else, not quite delivering but giving you enough to recognise the quality of the source material. Here I find myself bouncing off Johnson's voice rather hard, but finding an affinity for the slow sway of the tempo. So, a nice clean and clear opening then.

Middle Man is immediately less interesting. More standard in its construction, i.e. a little busier, and higher of pace, it doesn't have the easy rhythm of Inaudible Melodies, the magical timing and that sense of self importance. That quality is repugnant, but it often exists because there is something else special that leads one to believe in it. Posters tries to recapture it, but ends up feeling very, very dull. This does try to rebottle the playing from the first tune, but falls into a structure that has less room for it. I am still bouncing off the voice, too, which has a more important role in this track, rendering the guitar to a sideshow. I can see why people liked this a lot, but each track seems to erode my patience with it further. It is like an amalgam of several different artists, stealing little tricks from several different places - Sexy Plexi brings to mind 4 or 5 other musicians or groups in turn. It feels ripped off, or like a homage to something, rather than its own thing.

Short week this week - not only was there a bank holiday on Monday, I'm off on Friday too, going to the UK Games Expo. Then hosting friends on Saturday. I'll need to flop on Sunday, for sure. It's also been an odd week - finding my TV aerial broke piled another thing to do on top of booking a dental appointment and the thing I find myself forgetting every bloody day... to get on to someone about fixing my boundary fencing. I am utterly incapable of getting that sorted out; at a time when calling would be possible I put it down as something I must do, then promptly forget until a time like now - an evening when calling a tradesman isn't on. Argh!

Ugh. Bubble Toes. Stupid goddamn nonsense. The insouciance that is the predominant theme conveyed by Johnson's style has been growing more irritating with every track since the first, but when met with wordless choruses it reaches a zenith of annoyance. This song is just awful, and yet a centrepiece. Thankfully all of these tracks are quick, past and gone in short order - not because they are actually that short (Bubble Toes is just shy 4 minutes), but because they are easily tuned out.

The next track actually recaptures a bit of the style and swagger that put me on the fence about Inaudible Melodies. Whilst this, like the tracks before, is based on simple looping guitar hooks, it has the right spacing. The timing of the switch from one riff to another, the overall tempo. An easy sway. It makes things accessible but also generates that feeling of effortlessness. I guess it is impossible to not connect the form of his music with Johnson's surfer background. It has that stoner / dropout ease to it, the low key tone that you imagine just sitting on a beach after dark around a fire pit with friends might bring. It permeates, overloads and beats down any attempt to really get invested. It's all too laid back. I have to be fair and call out what I like, too; the edge to the sound on Drink the Water - provided by the bass part - makes this track more interesting, at least for the first 30 seconds or so. After that point you have basically heard the whole thing. I am far from done with this listen yet, but I feel the same for the album - a taster is more than enough to know what the whole thing is like.

I am getting no enjoyment. A sense of distance instead. I am inured now to the bits I don't like, and there is so little left once they are removed. It is just... bland. I think that very blandness was possibly the root of his success. Not offending the maximum number of people, and getting picked up through familiarity. What is distinctive as a one-off is utterly samey in quantity - that sense of style that makes Jack Johnson tunes very recognisable becomes a formula stuck to so rigidly that if you've heard one you've heard them all. Sure, there's some variation in pace between tunes, but the compositions barely shift. Of course, as I say that we get a track that has a different base - much more weight on the percussion come Losing Hope; the elements here are all the same though, it's just the weightings that changed slightly. It was a surprise at start, but it falls into the same repetitive patterns as prior tracks pretty fast.

There is no question that Johnson has something; his style is a real asset, if you like that sort of thing. I find myself not liking it, and cursing my younger self for buying into it based on association with what brought him to my consciousness in the first place. Whilst I freely admit I am a lazy so-and-so, the ultra-laid back "aren't I cool" sense I get from JJ's vocals and the predominant tempo of his works set my teeth on edge a bit. I was never "cool"; I never will be. I'm happy in my nerdiness, which makes a self-satisfied sounding dude like Johnson anathema to me. I am into the two live tracks now; the screaming of the crowd is so out of place with the over-relaxed nature of the tunes. They're so sedate that whilst I can see (and vehemently disagree with) the reasons people like this stuff, I can't for the life of me how anyone gets into it enough to vocalise, be it scream or cheer, in response to it. Its very nature is low key, not hype.

This is a clear out. The second bonus track is a version of Inaudible Melodies and, hearing it again after being exposed to almost an hour of Johnson with nothing else in between, it has lost its swagger and with it any appeal.  The crowd of screaming fans really doesn't help there, but mostly its my fatigue. Yes - this could be a case of confirmation bias, but frankly I don't care. Good riddance surfer-dude.