Listened to while in the wrong mood, this album could be heard as a dull, dreary, collection of downbeat, drink-soaked musings, the sound of a busker in a run-down, dilapidated seaside town out of season, sitting in his bedsit, staring at the waves and the fog, bored, skint, out of work and waiting for life.
However, listened to in the right mood, it's a bleak but well crafted set of drink-soaked musings, the sound of a busker in a run-down, dilapidated seaside town out of season, sitting in his bedsit, staring at the waves and the fog, bored, skint, out of work and waiting for life. From the outset, with the slow-burning, crackling 'Crack Shandy in the Harbour' which reminisces over scenes of fights and loneliness, Johny Lamb establishes himself as having a keen eye for detail and a knack for conveying scenes in a vivid style.
|
Much of 'Method' is gentle and folky, reflective and, quite often, rather mournful (as on the gin-drenched 'All for Me Grogg' and the sparse 'Island's Ode to the Itinerant'), but there are moments of crashing sonic savagery, the sound of a storm against the rocks, as on 'The Fishery' which simultaneously soars and rages at its tempestuous climax, and on the squalling finale of 'Darling'.
Emotionally affecting, sincere and delicate, 'Method' is a rewarding and evocative, if rather grey, album that works because of its simplicity and lack of pretence.
Thirty Pounds of Bone on MySpace
|
