An album needs to kick off with impact, and opener ‘The Baltic Sea’ does that for this debut – sounding exactly as you would expect Emma Pollock to sound had she been brought up in Stockholm, this reviewer certainly sat up and took notice.
Though the fact that the tune is a tongue-in-cheek ‘tribute’ to that country foes tend to plant the seed a little – “Your recycling facilities are second to none,” trills the singer before making stereotypical (but no less funny) references to “storage solutions”. However, it’s not all laughs, as in a country that’s as “cold as the Baltic sea”, “nobody smiles at me on the underground”. Clearly the band have yet to visit Edinburgh.
The album does nod to its twin spheres of influence (two parts Scots, one Swedish, though oddly the drummer provides the Scandic representation). Ok, ‘Hailstones’ is more tenuous with a mere weather reference – with its fractured female lead it’s on a par with Florence and the Machine or any of the plethora of here-today-gone-next-year chick acts.
It is a patchy album with some bright moments, but unfortunately like sore thumb it’s the stumbles that stick in the mind. ‘Folkan’ is, I suppose, a polka, and while I’m not versed in dance steps, I do know that when indie bands aren’t quite sure where they’re going, oddball time signatures is usually the next step. Still, at least it wasn’t white reggae.
All that aside, there are Scottish geographical phenomena and cultural landmarks referenced – the whimsy of ‘Electric Brae’, while La Belle Angelle may not be dedicated to one of the capital’s many torched venues, but it has a theatrical swing to it befitting the thought. The trio in the main manage to avoid being too sickly or twee, though perhaps take things too far with a version of ‘You Are My Sunshine’ in a minor key. However, there’s the decided feeling that there’s some sort of cultural exchange going on here, with Camera Obscura being traded for the Acid House Kings. And I’m not sure that’s exactly a fair swap.
