Graham Reid | | <1 min read
Although on the receiving end of polite but unimpressed reviews in some circles, there's no denying the quiet charm of this album which suggests last light in California and the sun glinting off the top of small waves which roll onto a warm beach as lovers are silhouetted at the water's edge.
Although they haven't entirely abandoned their former folk influences in favour of Brian Wilson circa '65 or the LA singer-songwriters of the early Seventies, there is certainly an evocation of that warm melancholy here.
There are hints of jangle pop (Hard to Break, Wonder Why) and a Latin shuffle on Fog Emotion (where the temperature drops), and Ride Ride Ride has light power pop groove which sounds like a duffed-up Eagles when they had their wheels rolling.
Faint Praise is that holy moment of reflection after the sun has set, the surfers are gone and singer Andy Cabis is sitting alone wondering where she is now.
So no boundaries are breached, no barriers are hurdled and although you have heard much of this before the overall mood is coherent and not unpleasant. Which is faint praise for an album which only resonates faintly.
Politely unimpressed then?
Like the sound of this? Then try this.