Abel Tesfaye's dark, twisted album is at odds with the glossy pop world he's been thrust into
Spain : I Believe
Reclusive LA band's stripped-down country
Three albums in, 'I Believe' is a substantial offering awash with humble entreaties and doe-eyed, lounge affectations. Sure, the moniker may flirt outrageously with Monsieur Schmaltz, but there really are some sweet, sweet sounds lurking beneath the initially perceived pretence. The slow-mo beauty of 'Mary' showcases Haden's almost electronic, pitch-perfect coo (and with all genre gimmicks gone, the voice has to be exact), while the self-explanatory, nu-prairie hum of 'You Were Meant For Me' betrays a romantic absolutism that Nick Cave would be proud of.
Like the curse on fellow Scott Walker obsessives such as Cousteau, too many record-buying folk will stick with their spoon-fed Coldplays to venture into the deeper realms of soft-focus acoustics. One suspects that the delicately-built Spain would only lose their precious muse in such star-studded company anyway.
The Cavan teenagers attack album two with abandon, largely at the expense of quality
A still-vital John Lydon rages towards retirement on a saucy, scuzzy new album
10 Tracks You Need To Hear This Week (26/8/2015)
Oxford's finest flit between gnarly rock and frustrating slickness on an often-brilliant fourth album