East Coast, West Coast, Clarkesville, Tennessee, Clarkesville, Birmingham. You simply don’t know where you’re at sometimes, and for all it’s glorious Technicolor philanderings, and widescreen drama neither does ‘The Half Chapter’. And yet, in spite of all this the album is still a freakish, if maudlin’ pleasure.
Tall, blond and regrettably hansom, Michael Clarke has produced a debut that whilst nodding pleasingly in all the right directions – The Flaming Lips, Richard Ashcroft, Royskopp – it also pays lip service to harmless old chestnuts like Travis and Crowded House (listen to ‘Everyone Will Have Their Day’ backwards at peak volume and I’m sure you can make out the spoken words ‘ impossibly inoffensive’ in the mix). In fact the whole album has a strange Neil Finn/Richard Ashcroft conflict going on – not least because of Clarke’s vocal likeness to both. Just check out the moody and raspy oohs in ‘Someday’ if you’re in any doubt; the truth really is out there.
Produced by Ron Sexsmith and Kings Of Leon producer, Martin Terefe, tracks like ‘Evergreen’ swell and bloom with some generous and atmospheric loops and beats and there’s delicate little sounds and samples that wouldn’t be out of place on a Royskopp album. But Lemon Jelly it ain’t and before long the crashing crescendos of a readymade chorus come crashing in to spoil it. ‘Heavy Soul’ suffers a similar handicap: the joy of the chill peripheral elements bunched up and meated out with big fat booming hooks. Like standout track ‘Secret File’ it’s tuneful enough, it’s catchy enough, it’s surreal enough – but ultimately it seems unsettled. A bit like the British Weather then in that respect; one minute you can be enjoying a big fat spliff in the sunshine, the next you have some bloody great thunder cloud comes along to ruin it all.
It may lack the necessary cred of a true contender – but it’s an honest and charming debut without a single duff track on it. How’s about that then?