‘The debut album from 21 year old Claire Sproule is a mesmerising and disarmingly honest record that lets the songs speak for themselves. It’s the last clichéd few words from this PR blurb that has me worried. You see, the problem is that songs can’t speak for themselves, someone has to communicate them, unless of course you’re an Ani DiFranco or Laurie Anderson quality of music poet. And believe me they are few and far between. No, in usual circumstances a song needs a singer, preferably the same person who wrote the song, in order that the connection can be made with feeling and truth. Of course, much more goes into the melting pot, not least a decent melody and instrumental arrangement, but even without these if a singer and song are strong enough the message can get through – loudly and clearly. The connection can be made between singer and listener.

Whenever I hear that an artist is from Ireland, my little ears prick up in anticipation. So, even without singing a note, Sproule has grabbed my interest. I’ve now played this album several times and I’m afraid that the actuality does not live up to the hype, and I really wish it did. Opening track Wondering is a gently rolling song with drab drum rhythm and other uninteresting instrumental paraphernalia that sort of trudges along. So it’s down to the vocal to lead the battle. It doesn’t. Sproule’s is pleasant and competent enough, but lacks any feeling, any passion, any meaning. County tinged The Deal is next up and is plagued with the same lack of dynamism. And herein lays the problem. A song has to open musical doors before one even bothers with lyrics that may be frighteningly good. My interest is already waning as the third track, Angel reveals itself. Sproule tries to match the American blues/soul flavour with a Yankee accent and it all falls terribly flat. I’m beginning to wonder whether I should continue… Strange World travels a more upbeat country path but again I’m left with the big question, ‘Why?’ And wondering just where this album and artist is heading…

Then a faint ray of hope descends with Doin It My Way where voice, melody, and instruments try much harder and almost succeed. The choruses are hook laden, and Sproule for the first time sings as though she means it. Not bad at all. The next beautiful track does succeed in grabbing my attention. It’s a glacially paced, haunting song with a sincere, expressive vocal that’s given acres of space by a stripped down instrumental arrangement. Nice one Sproule!

Two good songs out of ten is just not good enough, and I am left unmoved and unimpressed.

2.5/5