How Red Is The Blood
When I first heard this I thought it was kinda sweet, it’s certainly nice in that almost-unctuous way that the word ‘nice’ often suggests, both a compliment and then sorta not really a compliment at the same time. And you can’t fault – really – the playing of singer/guitarist Cy Winstanley and singer/bassist Vanessa McGowan.
But you can fault the calculated approach; the hipster drawing for the front cover to make them appear cooler (perhaps?) than they actually are. And, sure, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover (even though we often do) so you can certainly fault the rustic-overload approach of chucking fiddles and fingerpicking in the vague direction of any and every song.
And you can certainly fault the near-plagiarism of every single song sounding just like a busker’s version of what they think Paul Simon might have sounded like if he wasn’t a) quite as good as he actually is and/or b) born not at the right time but rather post 1980.
So, I can’t keep listening to this. I just hear every song as a wannabe sly update of Paul Simon, especially the early solo records. And hey, I love Paul Simon’s music. But I have enough of that to listen to – I don’t need inferior tag-along twee-twaddle.
In the end the biggest disappointment is that something so desperate to reek of sincerity – if not authenticity – is actually fraudulent, calculated, cynical and ultimately redundant.