7 / 10
Little stories, softly told. As the figureheads of mainstream rock become ever blander, and ever-more resemble the featureless, faceless fagades of the shopping mall culture they're an inherent symptom of, we're gonna have to look more and more to the margins of rock'n'pop for any real intellectual and emotional weight. So wave a warm hello to Chris T-T, a gentle soul who need never fear heavy rotation, who'll never have to shake Chris Evans' hand, or experience the humiliation of soundtracking a Jamie Oliver supermarket commercial. Lucky him.
He's a singer/songwriter who prefers piano-wire storytelling to the twee-isms of the Belle & Sebastian set, who often lays the battered acoustic to one side to lead his tales down dark, twisted musical back alleys that better complement the kinks in his plots.
There's a warmth to some songs, suggesting stories told from experience; the small fish/big pond shivers of 'A Hole Full Of Submarines' (which brilliantly tails off into a charming electroid beatscape in its run-out groove), and the pin-sharp, sad observational 'Exeat', a universe of ennui hiding in the details. And there's the acerbic 'Dreaming Of Injured Pop Stars', a snotty slingshot from pop's gutter with dozens of justified targets.
Those who value the wit and pathos of a singular voice among the Identikit throng should give Chris T-T some minutes of their time. He's telling his own stories, but he might be singing your song.
10
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