You know those types of releases whereby after listening to a few tracks, you start to think; ‘seriously, when is this album going to start pulling some punches’, yet never does? This is one of those albums.
That’s not to say that there is anything glaringly wrong with this release, it ticks all the boxes of a mainstream indie-rock checklist. Yet, there are no moments when you get that shiver down your spine in an instant of musical nirvana. Sure, tracks such as ‘The Oh Song’ are pleasant enough, and ‘Feral Love’ could be, at a push, a half decent Elliot Smith track. But overall, this album sounds unconfident in its own skin, I’m not one for instrumental wankery, but after bombardments of piano arpeggios and violin overlays subdued my senses, even I was yearning for a guitar solo. However, ‘1876 – The Brooklyn Theatre Fire’ offers a flicker of hope; a song that resembles Michael Grubbs’ talent most accurately, combining assured hooks and uncharacteristically dense instrumentation.
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Genericism draped in gleaming production, this is an album that aims to hit all the peaks of acts such as Sufjan Stevens, but only reaches the summits of Owl City. This is the type of album that would be perfect for a coffeehouse; inoffensive, directionless and familiar.
Peaks: ‘1876 – The Brooklyn Theatre Fire’ & ‘Feral Love’ are a first-class oddity, a two-pronged blip of distinct ingenuity.
Troughs: ‘Square Peg Round Hole’. The name alones personifies all that is wrong with this album; unoriginality, mundaneness…there really aren’t enough adjectives to express how bland, yet disturbingly catchy, the chorus is.
Wakey Wakey website
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