The gentle, barely-there piano and smooth ambience of 'First Watch' prefaces the gentle acoustic 'John Taylor's Month Away'. It’s a largely narrative song about a man who goes off to sea for a month, delivered in a fragile quavering tone, but after six minutes I found myself losing interest in the character and the story. As the understated instrumentation and subtle strings taper off, they're swept away by a wash of sound.
Such washes of sound - something of a Hopkins trademark - fade in and out throughout the album, lending a range of textures and tonalities, with the second half of 'Running on Fumes' being noteworthy for its subtle atmospherics.
'Bubble' finds the ludicrously prolific Creosote crooning in a soft folk style over a distant glitchy rhythm. But that too peters out, leaving him alone with just mellow strings and the breeze. With its spacious, cinematic production, it's a bit Enya in places.
The problem is that despite some delicately-crafted textures and some heartfelt, personal lyrics, the album as a whole is simply too subdued and fails to engage. There's no emotional range, nothing that stirs any level of empathy or engagement, nothing that draws the listener or serves to hold the attention. Instead, the tracks very soon fall to formula: quiet ambient sections fade in and out around the vocal section, on which Creosote is accompanied by either piano or acoustic guitar, unravelling his introspective vignettes and reflections on life. By the end, I find myself unmoved: I'm simply bored.
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It would appear that the seam has already been mined to exhaustion, as there are few gems to be found here.
King Creosote Online
Jon Hopkins Online
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