Release Date:  March 7th

Recorld Label:  Pocket Size Records

Robin James does things a little differently than you and I. If you wanted to play the guitar, you’d take lessons. Robin taught himself by writing his own songs. If you wanted to record an album, you’d perhaps use some fairly up to date gear. Robin recorded Paper Earth, his second album, completely on vintage analogue equipment. If you wanted to relax, you’d have a cup of tea and watch some dross on the TV. Robin found the best way to relax was to leave London to live in a rectory in Yorkshire, where he grows vegetables and listens to Gregorian chanting. Where his first album was just him and his guitar, he has branched out to include the likes of an accordion and even wine glasses on his newest work. Not your average person then.

His music isn’t typical either. The closest to it would have to be the likes of Nick Drake and Damien Rice, but stripped of all production and good feelings. Let’s not beat around the bush – this is not music to listen to on a Friday night. The old cliché for Radiohead was that theirs was music you can slit your wrists to. This is music that will creep up behind you and drop poison into your ears. Yes it’s a bit depressing, but that seems to be the world that Robin James lives in.

If variety is the spice of life, then this album has about as much kick as a korma. Almost all the songs sound remarkably similar. But then it never needs to get particularly spicy. The tempo is permanently subdued, and the entire album is a haunting experience, sung with androgynous (had to triple check), vulnerable lyrics. Opener UNDER AROUND sets the tone perfectly with “are you calling me to winter/Where things must die/Am I falling deeper/Or Under.” Then there’s GOOD TO DIE, which includes such instant frowns as “it’s good to die in Edinburgh, It’s good to die,” and sung in a way that before you know it, you’ve fashioned a noose out of a skipping rope. If that’s not enough, there’s JUDAS, with such rib ticklers as “I’ll die one of these days/Like everything else here/I’ll die, everyone does.” I’m sure you can see a theme developing here.

But there is something weirdly, darkly appealing about it all. The music itself is simple but competently played. There is true emotion behind the lyrics, and you are lulled into Robin’s gloomy sense of humanity rather too easily. We all want music to affect us in some way, and this certainly achieves that though it’s probably not in the way we hope, and Robin’s efforts have to be seen as endearing. For all that though, it’s hard to come out of the fog when there are no lights.

5/10

Posted In Album Reviews, Mar 11 2011. Words - Paul