The latest releases reviewed
GUILLEMOTS From the Cliffs Fantastic Plastic ****
Thank goodness for Guillemots. At last, a band who manage to be simultaneously "hotly tipped" by the establishment and yet remain defiantly creative in their scope. A mini-album comprising their first two EPs, From the Cliffs showcases both a penchant for melody and a colourful array of influences. Euphoric pop, experimental jazz, and melancholic folk are certainly all here in essence. But the songs' imaginative arrangements and structures, along with singer Fyfe Dangerfield's leaps from soothing croon to wacky falsetto, keep Guillemots refreshingly uninhibited by musical boundaries. Some songs, Over the Stairs in particular, initially seem overlong and even painfully self-indulgent, but the patient listener is rewarded as myriad layers peel back to reveal unexpected treasures. Cosmopolitan, cool, quirky and devastatingly good - could Guillemots be this year's Arcade Fire? Quite possibly. www.guillemots.com - Johnnie Craig
RAY DAVIES Other People's Lives V2 **
It's gotta be tough being a bona fide pop genius, especially when you're of an age where your glory days are perceived to be well and truly in the past. Ray Davies (of The Kinks) is in his early 60s, in there with the likes of Dylan, McCartney and Jagger as someone with a bit of history and a lot of justifiably acclaimed creative baggage. This, his first official solo album, arrives therefore with the weight of expectation. Alas, it's a weight that brings down the record with a dull thud. Davies still whimsically regards a cup of tea and a gossip-driven chat across the garden fence as two of the most recuperative things for an embattled British person in a technologically advanced world. But to write about these things with as little nous and insight as he does isn't the best advertisement for his return. Some fine tunes lift the record up a tad, but ultimately this is weak, insipid and uninspired. www.raydavies.info - Tony Clayton-Lea
HOWIE BECK Howie Beck Ever ***
Toronto troubador Beck has that laid-back intensity that reminds you of Elliot Smith in his lighter moments. His second album, 1999's Hollow, was filled with dreamy latenight melodies and lyrics of almost indecent intimacy. It's taken him five years to follow it up, but for Beck's small but growing army of fans, it's well worth the wait. His new collection sees Beck broadening his palette with such pop-inflected songs as Alice, Zombie Girl, How Do You Feel and Everybody Sold Out, while still keeping that bedclothes-rustling closeness on Please, Floating and The Books Beside Her Bed. Beck plays all the instruments and handles the production and mixing, but you'll also hear a few guest musicians, along with the voices of Ed Harcourt and Leslie Feist, who provide backup vocals on Don't Be Afraid and I Need Light, respectively. www.howiebeck.com - Kevin Courtney
STEAFAN HANVEY Steafan Hanvey & the Honeymoon Junkies Han ***
The debut from this Downpatrick songwriter, with its frugal framework, belies the long journey that precedes it. Hanvey, a nomadic minstrel of sorts, earned his stripes while jobbing his way around Seattle and Helsinki. On returning to Dublin in 2002, he began work on this album, roping in Relish's Papenfus brothers and some of Van Morrison's band to swell his sound. Pooling his Irish roots and chilly Nordic vistas, Hanvey favours unadorned stories with the occasional flourish of strings or keys. Anchored somewhere on the folk trajectory, the songs borrow unashamedly from Bob Dylan, but Hanvey's lack of wow factor is outweighed by his confidence. One of the album's strong points is his voice, which oozes warmth and a confessional charm. A lean, longing collection. www.steafanhanvey.com - Sinead Gleeson
SAW DOCTORS The Cure Shamtown ***
The years fly by, and suddenly the devil-may-care laddish (Tuam-style) humour of The Saw Doctors, with its western provincial pride and strong sense of the local, seems infected by a gnawing sense of unease. Regret and reflection hang over many of these songs, which deal with distance, emotional and physical, the pain of the emigrant, the gap between expectations and reality. For the Saw Doctors, now down to the core of Davy Carton and Leo Moran with additions Fran Breen on drums and Anthony Thistlethwaite (ex-Waterboys) on bass, the world has become more complex - as the album's only cover, Funny World, makes clear. Yet their sound remains intact and the songs have the same jaunty, unpretentious common-man quality as ever, albeit in a darker vein. www.sawdoctors.com - Joe Breen
EUROS CHILDS Chops Wichita Recordings **
Beware the Welsh weirdos who decide to make their own pastoral, psychedelic solo album - you may find yourself tripping through a lot of daisies before you come across any treasures. We've already had Super Furry Animals' Gruff Rhys waxing lyrical in Welsh about mountains and egg pudding. Now here's the boyish leader of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci with a bunch of spaced-out musical oddities, some sung in Welsh, some in English, all of them ideal soundtracks for mowing meadows. Donkey Island sounds like some clunky synth-pop TV theme from the early '70s, Costa Rita is a breezy bossa nova straight from a Welsh seaside resort, and The First Time I Saw You is a wide-eyed Spacemen 3-style workout. Billy the Seagull and Stella Is a Pygmy, however, are less-than-half-finished ideas best left off the tape. www.euroschilds.com - Kevin Courtney
NOELIE MCDONNELL Noelie McDonnell RMG Chart **
Debuts often reek of a co-operative effort. Low-budget affairs, ferreting their way into the daylight with judicious doses of passion and, hopefully, a nascent talent that'll stand clear of the crowded opposition. Tuam singer-songwriter Noelie McDonnell has created a considerable buzz with his debut. It's a rash of frothy harmonica, zesty backing vocals and a front man with an up-close and personal style when it comes to matters of the heart. Lazy comparisons with everyone from John Prine to Guy Clark and The Stunning are understandable, however, not because McDonnell is their rightful heir, but because much of what he trades in is blithely derivative. Radio-friendly fare (Marrakech, Stars) groans beneath the weight of far too much dated history, and hardly an oxygen molecule of originality. - Siobhán Long
