Tellingly, one of the ten tracks on here is called [B]'Emily'[/B]....

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Tellingly, one of the ten tracks on here is called ‘Emily’. It’s a sour pastoral ditty, sung by a girl with a voice as English as church bells who’s not afraid of using the word [I]”retard” [/I]in petulance.

Which pretty much tells you everything you need to know about this record’s event horizon. Love will lie bleeding, its cause of death argued in detail. An acoustic guitar will strum. Lyrics will be printed. It will recall The Sundays, Sarah Records, and – on the splendid ‘If I Give You A Smile’ – the lush folk-outs of Belle & Sebastian.

And, classically, it will be patchy. Full of weird instruments Whistler‘s first single, ‘Rare American Shoes’, is still their finest song, while ‘Don’t Jump In Front Of My Train’ skewers drama queens in tuneful deadpan. At their best, Whistler share a muse with Black Box Recorder, deploying all manner of nastiness in virginal tones but, like BBR, there isn’t enough wit mixed in with the bile to fill an album.

Bereft of deserving targets, Kerry Shaw‘s sweet soprano quickly turns sickly, and not even Fuzz Townshend‘s funky drumming can disguise the fact that, by the end, this trio are whistling in the dark.