What began as a solo project for Dubliner Ciarán Smyth is now, with the addition of bassist Ritchie O'Reilly and drummer Wayne Dunlea, a trio.
Despite this, the third album under the Crayonsmith name still has the personalised feel of a solo record. This is probably because, although the sound may be fuller, there's still a lo-fi quality, dominated by some expressive electric guitar licks as on Pilates which begins like something from Radiohead's In Rainbows
This album comes fully five years since Smyth's previous release -White Wonder. The forlorn mood suggests that things have not always gone swimmingly in the interim.
In spite of the Sounds of Silence-like jangle on the opening track, The Fix establishes the bleak tone of the record with lines like "I can't live my life on such an empty promise, but it seems that it may be the only way"
After playing the record a few times I found myself doing a compare and contrast exercise with Mark Kozelek (Sun Kil Moon / Red House Painters). Smyth's voice is not that much like Kozelek's but he has the same weary qulaity of a young man who is deflated though not quite defeated.
|
Laugh It Off is the nearest to being single material but the optimism feels forced and there's nothing as catchy as Lost In The Forest from the previous album.
In a break up song (Let's Split Up) Smyth is resigned rather than angry ("there's nothing left to do") and in Swells there's a chilly fatalism:"Don't go looking for darkness too, darkness will come to you"
Dealing so directly with a life of stress and distress means that this will be nobody's idea of a fun record but , thankfully, the honesty of the song writing and elegance of the arrangements means that it never comes across as self-pitying or depressing.
|
