That Samson-esque voice, that gravely tone that stands firm like granite – not groaning under the weight of the dusky woe that it carries on its shoulders at all, but hunched pensively nonetheless – leaving a epic silhouetted impression as the backdrop to every song, is impossible to deny. It’s a genuine force of nature, an ace with which he can win every hand he plays. Its purpose is to be marvelled at and to communicate great scales of emotion. It is what carried his debut record, ‘Trouble’, through patches of lonely acoustic blues soup, turning them into impressive vistas, like a hazy burning sunset can transform a featureless landscape. Though still, that was his debut’s weakness, with the exception of a couple of clear peaks. The title track was one of these highs, but then who knows, maybe it could have been improved more still by having him merely utter the word “trouble”, drawn out by that astonishing, affecting vocal, over and over from beginning to end. It was these moments that made it such a memorable debut.
And it’s that he advances his depth of songwriting, and indeed the very texture of the songs, that makes this sophomore record necessary, when it could have merely expanded his pool of songs. And his signature vocal tones lose none of their power. The arrangements on the sparse, twinkling, string-supported ‘Be Here Now’ and creeping chamber-orchestral Damien Rice-esque ‘Can I Stay’, to single out just two, are lavish but minimal, measured, sure and existing in slightly breathier environs to the introverted confessionals of ‘Trouble’. They feel less weighed down, more observational, not free, but with perspective. It’s as much if not more indebted to hoary old American blue rock standards, Joe Cocker through to Buffalo Springfield to Creedence Clearwater Revival, than ever before, but the consistent ebbing quality of the songs pulls it all through the 70s into a relevant space.