Matt Dibble seems like a nice chap. And he writes and records nice music. It’s a simple formula: voice and piano. Uncluttered, melodic, gentle. His voice has a pleasant enough tone, and as singer-songwriters go, I’d take Matt Dibble over, say, James Blunt any day.
Ok, so I’m awkward, and there has to be a but. The best – by which I mean the most dynamic and most emotionally engaging – music comes from those extreme highs and lows of life’s rollercoaster. A little pain and suffering is the currency of music that really captivates, really speaks. A little passion counts for a lot. I get neither anguish or ecstasy from any of the nine tracks on this album, just a big blue sky and a big blue sea and a big blue cable-knit sweater of niceness.
Matt doesn’t sound like he’s had his heart broken or been shafted over by his boss or experienced any real hardship in his life. Or if he has, she’s shrugged it off in a chirpy, forgiving manner and brewed himself a nice cup of tea. But by the same token, I don’t get the impression he’s really put himself out there and felt true euphoria either.
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I don’t want to be too hard on Matt, though. There’s no denying that he does what he does well. He’s unquestionably an accomplished writer and musician, and the production is admirable. There’s no studio trickery, no needless embellishments. There’s no question that there’s an audience for his music, either, although it’s very much Radio 2 type. And I say fair play to him.
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