Top 100 Albums - #39: Us (1992)

At number 39 is Peter Gabriel's Us, his long-awaited follow-up to So (1986) and his seventh of nine entries.So brought Gabriel commercial success, something he undoubtedly deserved but didn't know how to deal with. Like his former bandmates, who left a gap of five years before the release of We Can't Dance (1991), Gabriel chose not to capitalise on his new-found fame with a quick follow-up. Being a man for whom the phrase 'more of the same' is completely anathema, he instead devoted his energies to humanitarian causes, beginning with tours for Amnesty International in 1986 and 1988. During this time he also put in a performance at The Secret Policeman's Third Ball in 1987, for the same organisation, playing 'Biko' to close the concert. After recording Passion (1989) for Martin Scorsese, Gabriel suffered a series of personal tragedies which led to extensive periods in therapy and a lot of scope for new material.

This impossible sequel begins with 'Come Talk To Me', and like 'Red Rain', the opener on So, this starts softly and then starts to unfold with a nervous swagger. Featuring Sinead O'Connor on vocals, this song describes Gabriel's troubled relationship with his first daughter, Anna. And while it cannot come close to 'Red Rain' in terms of raw spiritual power, it's still a great song to start things off; its lyrics unfold at a pace which is leisurely enough for you to appreciate the richness of the mix. Not only is Gabriel's voice perfectly complimented by O'Connor, but the production (the work of Daniel Lanois) means that it is clearer than ever before - and he's at the peak of his powers.

Having started on a lively note, we take things down a bit with 'Love To Be Loved'. Opening with some attractive tabla (a Hindu variant of the bongos), this is again a very easy listener. And like the last song, this swells very gradually, teasing you and yet rewarding you at the end. Here Peter is on his own, but that doesn't matter one bit, because the voice is good and the lyrics are verging on catchy. The chorus in particular has a great structure which blends seamlessly with the verses to form one fully functioning unit. And while he may not be pushing the limits of his vocal registers to any great extent or frequency, his voice still radiates power and the final workout is incredible.

Well, not quite. 'Blood Of Eden' is an incredible track. As you would expect from the title, there are Biblical tones here, but don't think for one minute that this is a preachy foot-stomper. Quite the opposite. Opening with some tender violins and sweet guitar, this is a eulogy for humanity. And what an eulogy - Peter pours his heart and soul into this song, with lyrics that stick in your throat and almost bring you to tears. The chorus is depectively simple, and yet completely breaktaking: In the blood of Eden/ Lie the woman and the man/ With the man in the woman/ And the woman in the man etc. The break after the second chorus is proof of Peter's ability - not just in the way in which he holds the high cry but the passion which goes into it. O'Connor's harmonies on the chorus are sublime, slotting in perfectly to create a true heart-surger. This is one of the album's defining tracks: it's carefully constructed, given the space it needs to breathe and develop - and as a result it's flawless.

After all that tearjerking serenity, we need something a bit more exciting. And 'Steam' does just that. Often derided as simply "Son of 'Sledgehammer'"¹, in reality it's so much more. This may have won awards for innovation in video, just like it's dad, and like its dad it is a song with sexual overtones. But unlike 'Sledgehammer' this is not overplayed and overidentified with the 1980s. This helps it to stand better on its own, and given the chance to do that, it shines. Its pulsating drum beat, combined with David Rhodes' visceral guitar, create a sharp pulse over which rides the distinctive bass of the masterful Tony Levin. Meanwhile, Gabriel's lyrics are cheeky, inviting you to form your own conclusions.

After doing so well, we hit an obstacle with 'Only Us'. This wierd intro sees a combination of flashy electronic effects, faint guitar and echoed world vocals. And that more or less sets the tone for the rest of the track, which is as murky as hell. Trying to make sense of this track is like trying to navigate through a labyrinth with your eyes closed. And even once you've established that you won't understand it, and sit back to try and appreciate the feel of things, you are left with at least four wasted minutes as it leaves you unfulfilled.

Thankfully, 'Washing Of The Water' is a definite return to form. The song starts off very mellow, with just a lilting drum beat and almost whispered lyrics. But this will not send you off to sleep. Gabriel offers up exhilirating vocals, backed by the graceful piano whose notes glide like a boat on a lake. It's a serene, relaxing tune which swells to its emotional conclusion with an expression of contentment on its face. It may well be the shortest track, at 3:52, but it unwinds to its conclusion without a drag or a rush.

'Digging In The Dirt' is more serious, more angry, more brooding. It's not sinister enough to make your hair stand on end, but you are made to feel claustrophobic. Then, just when you think you've adjusted, the anger explodes and you are plunged into the terrifying chorus. This achieves the unusual feat of being an aggressive, dark rock song which manages to come across as tender, all without a hint of slush. The rage suits Gabriel's raspy registers, and the result is an all-round great.

Unfortunately, the next two tracks are decidely half-cocked, in more ways than one. 'Fourteen Black Paintings', described by Rolling Stone as "music for Third World airports"², is poor. With its lonely duduk (an Armenian woodwind instrument, like a clarinet in sound), this is muddled and, like 'Only Us', jam-packed with echoed vocals. It feels misdirected, like Gabriel is just dumping world music in the mix to serve as continuity. 'Kiss That Frog' is even worse, though. This is a song where, as soon as you know what the lyrics are about*, you can't listen to it again. Unlike 'Steam', which was clever, this is completely shameless. It's Gabriel growing old disgracefully - and it isn't pretty.

Thank God, though, for the closer. Not only does Gabriel redeem himself with 'Secret World', he sets the bar even higher for next time. At 7:03 you certainly get your money's worth, but more than this, this is the distilling of the album into a microcosm of absolute joy. The opening tittilates you with its playful guitar, lingering keyboards and methodical drums, courtesy of Manu Katche. Then Gabriel comes in, and you instantly recognise his honesty. The third verse is amazing - In this house of make-believe/ Divided in two, like Adam and Eve. And again in the chorus - In all the places were we hiding love/ What was it we were thinking of?. This is spectacular live, as the Secret World tour proved, it makes your heart race and your face brighten. It's a masterpiece, unequivocally.

While So easily passed as a singles album which you could dip in and out of, Us requires your full and unmitigated attention. It is hardly surprising, for an album that took six years to make; indeed a work any less meticulous might have been a disappointment. But rather than being an obsessive, difficult work, like The Final Cut (1983, #49), this is as rewarding and as empowering as its predecessor, if not more so (no pun intended). As you would expect from such a personal work, there are times when the quality slips, either because the material becomes impenetrable or the subject matter makes you flinch. But at its heart, Us is a passionate odyssey through human emotion and the rollercoaster of relationships. It deserves a place in any collection, where it may unwind over the years, delighting you with something new every single time you play it.

3.90 out of 5

References
¹ Greg Kot, 'Us', http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/petergabriel/albums/album/301075/review/6067873. Accessed on April 16 2008.
² Ibid.
* Fellatio

Top 100 Albums - #46: The Book Of Kells (1992)

Celtic prog rockers Iona make their first of three entries with The Book Of Kells, a concept album based on an 8th-century illustrated manuscript of the gospels, and their second album overall. Iona formed in 1990, comprised of vocalist Joanne Hogg and multi-instrumentalists David Fitzgerald and Dave Bainbridge. The line-up remained relatively fluid initially, while retaining the three core members. The group released its self-titled debut, a concept album about the island of Iona, in June of the same year. The album featured a number of guest musicians, like Franz van Essen (drums) and Troy Donockley (Uillean pipes), both of whom remain in the line-up to this day. Occassional live performances and a warm reception of the record created a growing reputation for this supergroup in disguise. By this time the core trio had been joined by two more full members, Nick Beggs (bassist, formerly of Kajagoogoo) and Terl Bryant (drums).

'Kells Opening Theme' does what it says on the tin. It kicks us off and already we are treated to one of the most beautiful female voices in music. Joanne Hogg's voice is pure, clear, crisp and haunting against the elegant backdrop created by the keyboards. If you close your eyes and listen to her voice, you will be blown away to a rugged, unspoilt landscape. The elegance of her voice allows her to flow over the lyrics effortlessly - lyrics which, incidentally, have a very unusual structure. What a great start.

'Revelation' takes up the baton from the opening track. With its serence combination of pipes and acoustic guitar, it's a warming and very spiritual track. Hogg demonstrates her range and her voice carries well; unlike Enya she does not have to rely on fancy production to convey emotion. Terl Bryant's drumming might begin pretty basic, but at the end of lines it's fantastic, if a little 1980s. Finally, 2:45 in, Dave Bainbridge unleashes a peculiarly jaunty guitar solo to complete this live favourite.

The next track is one of the greats in modern prog rock. 'Matthew - The Man' may well be the longest track on the album, clocking in at an almighty 11:54, but unlike a lot of prog it isn't drawn out and it isn't allow to bog down. Instead, the instrumental sections are allowed to unfold at near-perfect speed. The keyboards are beautiful, the pipes come in at just the right instances, the bass is deep and guttaral, and the percussion from Messrs. Bryant and van Essen is superb. When Hogg finally arrives, she hardly disappoints, preceded as she is by a wailing acoustic solo. (N. B. If you think this version is good, check out the live version on Woven Cord (2005) - Frans van Essen's drumming is spectacular).

Having done so well so far, 'Chi-Rho' comes across as a poor relation. It's acoustic-driven with lyrics which are both more oblique and delivered more breathily. And that's not good, because it robs Hogg's voice of a lot of its purity, turning her into a worship band singer. The drums are too loud and sound fake. This is a well-structured song, I will admit, but structure alone is not enough to sustain your interests.

'Mark - The Lion' is the second of four tracks which (attempt to) sum up each of the gospels; they are personified as each of the four creatures which made up the angels in Ezekiel 1:10. While 'Matthew - The Man' was replete with thundery bass and wailing acoustic, to indicate the juxtaposition between strength and humility in mankind, this is percussion-heavy, beginning with what sound like bongos being faded in. They sound good with the distant shimmers of the keyboards; but it is only once we pass 1:01 that the track really takes off. Here the rock drums and saxophone take over, and we glimpse the raw, majestic power of the running lion. It's another piece which relies on your imagination to carry the instrumental - just as a concept album should be.

'The River Flows' is similar to 'Chi-Rho', insofar as it's acoustic-led and it falls short of the high standard set by the other tracks. The lyrics are just too simplistic to justify the length of the song (5:01). And the percussion feels flat and repetitive - in all, this has the feeling of filler, one of the main complaints about the album upon its release.¹ 'Luke - The Calf', meanwhile, opens dramatically, first with the sound of waves and then some beautiful, full-blown violins. Listening to this is like lying on a calm beach with the tide slowly coming in, while being gently massaged. The flute part is so sweetly tuned to the song's needs, it was as if God himself had written it (directly or indirectly, depending on what you believe). Most importantly, though, like its two counterparts, you do get an image of a calf - if you can drown out the beach for long enough.

'Virgin And Child' has to be one of the most beautiful songs on here. It's built around a simple phrase on a harp which sounds like a highly-tuned acoustic - which on the basis of the previous tracks might spell underachievement. But here, the guitar guides the piece; it doesn't lead in the traditional sense, it simply anchors it, so that when the flutes come in in the final minute (along with the violins), it doesn't feel crowded. It's another work of complete beauty.

'Temptation' is, by contrast, a lot more dark and aggressive than the other songs we have heard so far. In the opening minute, all is well: the mood is set, the ears are retuned and we listen intently. But at 1:15, it becomes strange, taking on a bouncy characteristic. It sounds like a forgotten outtake of Passion (1989) in its use of Eastern sounds - Dave Fitzgerald, who played sax on 'Mark - The Lion', switches here to the suona, a kind of Chinese clarinet. All very well and good, but this piece has less substance (like a lot of stuff on Passion, as a matter of fact), and so it has all been in vain.

We quickly get back on track, though, so don't fret. 'The Arrest - Gethsemane' sees Fitzgerald returning to the saxophone. Backed by Bainbridge's reverberating keyboard chords, it sounds absolutely gorgeous. This feels meticuously well put-together, creating the perfect wailing backdrop to the beginnings of the Passion (Jesus' arrest and anguish before his crucifixion). By now, one thing you will have noticed is that Hogg has been absent for quite a long time. Not that her absence is especially a bad thing, since her vocals, rather than lead a piece, blend in to the lush instrumental work. But this is the fourth track without her.

'Trinity - The Godhead' is the fifth. It's longer than most of the instrumentals, and it is a lot slower than many of them. But that doesn't matter, not one iota. Why? Because this is a sensational track, a beautiful soundscape which blends perfect musicianship with spacious production. This is one of the few tracks that when, you listen to it in stereo, you feel like you're listening in quadrophonic or 3-D. The shimmering keyboards capture the celestial, ethereal qualities so marvellously, and despite the high quality sound you feel like it is all down to the musicians, not the producer. The saxophone dances through this glorious piece once again, completely this stand-out track. It's not just the best track on the album, it's one of the best Iona have ever written.

'John - The Eagle' completes the quadrilogy of tracks which sum up the gospels. And it works, achieving its aims in spades. The image of an eagle cresting the highest winds is constantly in your mind as Fitzgerald pushes his sax playing to its limits, creating something brilliant in the process. This feels a little more overproduced than the other three, but that's not a massive reason to hate it, especially when the piano in the second half sounds so good. This feels so good to listen to that you just won't care.

'Kells' - the title track is the wrong term here - is essentially a reworking of the opener, with a quicker tempo, more pipes and rockier drums. Now you can tell that van Essen is at the helm and enjoying himself - his licks are just as brilliant as they are on Woven Cord. Hogg makes a great return, and contrary to expectation her voice does not fall flat when confronted with a quicker pace of song. The whole band feels tight and the result is very bright.

We close with 'Eternity - No Beginning, No End', yet another instrumental which drags the tempo back down to a near crawl. Not that it's a bad piece of work - au contraire. The instruments may sound a little strange, but given the time and space they need, they create something genuinely great - angelic yet spooky. Van Essen's drumming is simplified, but he remains on form, and the mysterious vocals at the end are a perfect way to wrap things up.

Progressive rock is the thinking person's rock, where metal is the headbanger's, punk is the loudmouth's and indie is the awkward hedonist's. Falling as it does within the prog genre (at the distinctly unpretentious end, of course), The Book Of Kells both requires your full attention in order to engage you and engages your full attention when you listen. Some criticisms made of it are true - it is a trifle too long, there is a fair bit of filler, and there are not enough vocals. But this is still a splendid piece of craftsmanship. This feels like a soundtrack album, not just because it is full of instrumentals, but because it feels rich and atmospheric. Maybe allmusicguide.com hit on something in its review: "Given the deep thought and consideration required to understand this album fully, it does serve as a soundtrack for the mind's eye."² If nothing else, The Book Of Kells is perfect proof of life left in a genre which the popular press had long pronounced dead.

3.86 out of 5

References
¹ David Sleger, 'The Book Of Kells', http://www.allmusicguide.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=&sql=10:azfwxq8aldde. Accessed on January 12 2008.
² Ibid.

Top 100 Albums - #65: Tubular Bells II (1992)

Mike Oldfield's only chart appearance comes in the form of Tubular Bells II, the updated and revised version of his most famous work, Tubular Bells (1973).
After Tubular Bells became a sensation upon its release in 1973, Oldfield retreated from the public eye, shunning calls for him to tour the project and collaborate with other artists. He spent the remainder of the 1970s creating a series of soundscape albums in a similar format - two long instrumentals, one for each side of the vinyl record. All these efforts, from Hergest Ridge (1974) to Platinum (1979), failed to replicate the critical and commercial success of his breakthrough, although Hergest Ridge briefly went to No. 1 in the UK. In the 1980s Oldfield charged for the mainstream with a series of poppier albums. Some of his efforts - like Crises (1983) - were more than reasonable; others - like 'Shine', his collaboration with Jon Anderson - were vile. After the release of Heaven's Open (1991), Oldfield left Virgin and returned to his New Age roots.

This new version of his masterpiece is divided into 14 parts instead of 2 halves - 'songs' doesn't really do the piece justice as a means of description. 'Sentinel' begins with some sweet, deceptive pinao; but before long this gives way to the familiar sequence which provided the theme for The Exorcist. Gradually this unfolds, bringing in Oldfield's familiar, mournful guitars, played with his perfected picking method of using his nails. From then on the piece rises and rises, from the spooky female vocals to the brooding bass lines. This is an absolute classic in every sense, a masterpiece of atmosphere and a brilliant way to open the album.

'Dark Star' may fall short in direct comparison, taken on its own terms this is still a great piece. At 2:16, it's a lot shorter, but it has a different feel. While 'Sentinel' was mournful, melancholy and breathtakingly sombre, this is rocking, aggressive and jagged at the edges. After some great guitar-duelling - between acoustic and electric - the melody gives way to some monumental keyboards, which are played so low that they are close to being terrifying. This is even better when they are juxtaposed by Oldfield's trebled, tender guitar.

'Clear Light' changes the tone once more, changing the emphasis to classical guitar and piano. When counterpointed by heavy bass, we achieve something very strange but alluring. As the piece develops, the female vocals return and the whole thing becomes a little more angelic. The biggest addition here, though, is the bright horn section, wich rears its head just before the piece deliberately collapses (in a good way) into a beautiful guitar solo backed with synthesised pan-pipes. And, as if this wasn't enough, we get the first glimpse of the title instrument as well.

With 'Blue Saloon', we are subjected (or treated, as the case may be) to a much darker, more startling sound. Mike Oldfield created Tubular Bells as a kind of fantasy world into which he could escape. As such it is entirely possible that the music will reflect his psyche, laced as it is with depression, panic attacks and feelings of loneliness. This is a piece void of the angelic guitars or female choirs of previous movements. This is edgy, complete with a pounding heartbeat bass line and a keyboard sequence which will send chills down your spine. Sure, the guitars are here, but they're muted and suppressed by the dark, cold background of the piece.

Thankfully, before long the cold steel walls are stripped away with the bright piano and jaunty guitars of 'Sunjammer'. This really is a record to enjoy in stereo; only then can you get the pleasure of the guitars dancing off each other with the keyboard murmuring in the background. This is an unlikely candidate for an air guitar competition, but there are enough hooks here to make any mute roll around and improvise at will.

Having showered the record thus far with all this praise and adoration, we hit a pebble in the sand with 'Red Dawn'. In contrast to the precise, meticulous nature of the last five moments, this is rather aimless and subdued. The female vocals on this occassion are just plain off-putting, and the guitar part at the end sounds like it is being played by a three-year-old with only one finger.

But all is not lost, for now we come to 'The Bell'. This piece closes the first half of the record, and consists of different instruments being brought in one by one, playing the same little phrase in their idiosyncratic tones. This time around, the narrator is the guttural ctor Alan Rickman as opposed to Vivian Stanshall, founder member of The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band (incidentally, this could be described as a more serious version of 'The Intro And The Outro' from Gorilla (1967)). Some of the instruments are a little obscure (what is 'The Venetian Effect'?) and the vocal chords sound fake, but despite these this is a piece of unmistakeable grandeur, which, considering its inate simplicity, is both ironic and a compliment to Oldfield's skill as a composer.

'Weightless' is another let-down, a repetitive and rather formulaic composition which relies too much on electronic noise to qualify as a good movement. It's certainly not the best way to kick off the second half of the record. The panpipes on this are good, but overall it's way too mellow to drag you kicking and screaming back into the album in the way that 'Sentinel' got your attention. 'The Great Plain' is a lot better. With its folk guitars, country-ish banjos and shrill, siren-like pipes, it's a more focussed and in-depth piece. It has some wonderful sequences which flash out of the mix - for instance, the 8-bar repeating phrase from 3:11 to 3:27 has a certain magic about it which makes it a delightful listen.

'Sunset Door' is heavily reliant on pipes. While on paper this may seem like an acquired taste, in reality it's a relatively pleasant little interlude. At only 2:23 long, that is all it could serve as and all that it is designed to be. The reason being is that it must soon give way to the mighty 'Tattoo'. Even I, as a non-bagpipe fan, found this intriguing. It's a looping march, but unlike a lot of loops - which appear to not go anywhere - this has a clear sense of direction. The combination of bagpipes and Oldfield's guitar is compelling - perhaps he is using an e-bow, creating the 'bagpipe guitar' sound as mastered by Big Country(?!). Regardless of this, this is the third of the great 'tracks' on this album.

It's a real shame, then, that the album becomes so fickle hereon in. 'Altered State' is rubbish, simple as. It fells clunky, the vocals are extremely off-putting and it appears to have little overall place and purpose on the record. The only thing preventing this from being a complete disaster are the interludes which appear to have lifted straight out of a world music record. But that is not enough to save this travesty of a track.

'Maya Gold' is a good recovery from this, shrinking the album back down to its sad-tinged beginnings. It's more minimalism, relaxed and downcast, all of which works to it advantage. For the trained ear, there is some lovely soft organ parts hidden underneath the guitars. For the untrained ear, there is more than enough to enjoy though. But the same cannot be said for the closer. 'Moonshine' is lifted straight out of country and western music: as such it grates the nerves, is void of any real substance and - worst of all - it's really hard not to get up and dance, however abominable that may be. It's a hillbilly track, which brings the album to a terrible grinding halt.

At the time of its release, Tubular Bells II was attacked by critics as a sign that Oldfield was running out of steam, retreading old ground and become a slave to his own obssessions. This is certainly true for his subsequent... 'revisions', like Tubular Bells III (1998) and Tubular Bells 2003 (2003). But Tubular Bells II, for all its faults, has one big advantage over the original. That is its division into shorter tracks. Whereas subsequent editions trivialised the music by playing around with the timings of the tracks, on this occassion it makes it easier for new fans to discover his music and his genius. Younger listeners who associate 25-minute pieces with the more pretentious side of prog rock (ELP-style) may warm to this a lot more than the original, at least at first. The greatest asset of Tubular Bells II is not the respect it pays to the original, but the way in which it is put together and presented as a more accessible way into one of music's great enigmas.

3.79 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #93: Ingénue (1992)

At number 93 is the first and only entry for pop-country singer k. d. lang. Ingénue is the album that broke her outside the closed market of country music and against which all her subsequent efforts have been compared.

Before Ingénue came out, k. d. lang had achieved success in her native Canada with her country outfit k. d. lang and the Reclines; their debut album, A Truly Western Experience (1984), received critical acclaim and in 1985 lang won her first of eight Juno Awards (the Canadian equivalent of the Grammys) for Most Promising Female Vocalist. In between the second and third recordings of the group, lang began her solo career with the equally-acclaimed Shadowlands (1988), which began her leaning towards more pop-oriented country that was more accensible to those outside North America. By the endof the 1980s she had earned herself a rising reputation thanks to her work with producer Dave Edmunds and the late pop vocalist Roy Orbison.

The album gently opens with 'Save Me'. Beginning with some unimposing pedal steel guitar, it soon matures into the perfect vehicle for lang's soulful and yearning voice. The song slowly unwinds with some gentle brushes on the drums and perfectly double-tracked harmonies. It never gets boring, because it is so casual-sounding that to appreciate it to you have to listen rather intently.

But just as it starts well, the next two tracks - 'The Mind Of Love' and 'Miss Chatelaine' - cause a loss of focus. 'The Mind Of Love', as with a lot of country music, is repetitive without being catchy, and is rather aimless and lacklustre. The presence of violins don't add anything to the already formula sound, let alone lift it. The sombre 'Miss Chatelaine' doesn't learn from its predecessor's mistakes completely, though here the violins have a clear purpose and act as a great scene-setter. It's just a shame that the remainder of what is, in the end, an over-long song doesn't live up to the romantic promise of the opening seconds.

Things get back on track soon, though. 'Wash Me Clean' strips the production right back to almost Gabriel-esque levels of introspection. It's a tender piece with an innocent yet lovelorn feel to it. As on the opener the sheer lack of volume compels you to listen intently - and as on the opener, you are rewarded, on this occasion with acoustic guitar work which compliments lang's voice perfectly. With confidence renewed, lang steps things up just a little on 'So It Shall Be'. Adding a muted hi-hat and reusing the complimentary guitar, lang also uses this song to balance out the violins again, achieving a generally good result.

Having got it all-but-spot on with the last tracks, lang again throws everything away on 'Still Thrives This Love'. The strings at the start are too loud, too garish and make the whole thing sound like a desperate attempt at against-the-grain pop - which, in an era dominated by grunge, was just not going to work. Her voice is wasted on (comparatively) vacuous vocals, which I will address in the sum-up, and overall it is the track that you are most likely to skip on this album.

Both 'Season Of Hollow Soul' and 'Outside Myself' redress the balance amicably. The former is a yearning ballad-esque song in which lang sings sorrowfully - and, again, is temporarily on top of the arranging side of things. The latter is a much better attempt at the introspective, easy listening pop song, and while the lyrics aren't exactly compelling, the instrumental side keeps things ticking over nicely, and so you have little temptation to skip this track as you might have done with previous numbers. But no sooner has she got it right, then lang loses focus again in the dull-sounding 'Tears Of Love's Recall'. It adds nothing to the album as a whole, and while it doesn't sound out of place, this factor on this occassion is to the detriment of the whole record.

After all this to-ing and fro-ing, lang at least has the common decency to finish on a high note. The closer, 'Constant Craving', was an international hit, and it's easy to see why. The interesting use of an accordian edges towards a European feel, creating a sad, tragic-romantic feel to this. Lang elongates her voice around her best lyrics to date, producing a track that is both heartfelt and catchy. It is a masterpiece of its genre - and considering that this is country, that's extremely hard to come by.

Overall, then, this is at best an uneven effort from lang, and at worst an erratic product of messing around with an exhausted and clichéd genre. None of the lyrics on the first nine songs are remotely compelling or captivating, as was the case with many of the artists reviewed thus far. The album stakes itself on the strength of the music backing the vocals, and like with Iona's Joanne Hogg, lang's voice blends seemlessly into the soundscape - if there had been no vocals, this would have made an interesting ambient record. The problem is that the quality of the music is not sustained throughout, resulting in an album that is neither compelling or consistent.

3.70 out of 5