The fresh-faced folk pop band Stornoway seem promising: They play with guileless vigor, have a light-stepping chemistry as a unit, harmonize well. Their lead singer Brian Briggs has a lovely, pure high tenor, the kind of voice that effortlessly conveys simple longing. And yet, on their second album, Tales from Terra Firma, they continue to be almost crushingly dull, making well-appointed and cheerfully empty music that successfully communicates next to nothing.
Their Achilles Heel is a simple and unfortunate one, the same on Tales as it was on 2010's Beachcombers Windowsill. Stornoway are clearly in love with Celtic and British folk, and yet they can't write a memorable melody to save their lives. Try to sing along to the verse melody of "Zorbing", their most well-known tune, and pay attention to what your face muscles are doing; most likely furrowing with the effort of recall. Each of Tales' painstakingly arranged nine songs sinks underneath the weight of this insurmountable problem, which is a shame.
If you're making folk-pop, an inability to write a catchy melody is a difficult deficiency to overcome. Stornoway try valiantly with their complex arrangements, which quickly grow exhausting. “You Take Me as I Am” is cluttered with horn charts and pointlessly banging piano. “(A Belated) Invite to Eternity” builds to a full Explosions in the Sky crescendo, with glimmering tremolo guitar and a “Tonight, Tonight”-style sweeping string section, but having built zero momentum and generated zero heat until that point, their planned fireworks display fizzles.
“Farewell Appalachia” follows the same pattern, with celesta, finger-picked acoustic and electric guitar all tracing an emptily pretty circle with nothing in the center. The melody of "The Great Procrastinator" is almost cleanly written enough to be memorable-- and then the ersatz Dixieland jazz interlude crashes in. Stornoway are deft players, and the transitions are tightly managed, but this is praise on the same order as praising the brushwork in a hotel-room painting.
Briggs’ lyrics are filled with uncomplicated images of the good old British countryside, but his lyrics trample over all these dew-covered fields with wordy, awkward phrasing: "And in the gathering dew, I was lucid as a floodlight,” goes a line from “(A Belated) Invitation to Eternity”. “There's a hunger in the air/ A lemon swollen in the trees" he bleats on “Knock Me on the Head”. On “The Great Procrastinator”, he sings that he is “a scientist with far too many metaphors and far too little data to conclude in time.” They don’t read particularly well, and they don’t sound much more natural when sung.
Tales From Terra Firma is a peculiar record-- carefree music that feels leaden; tuneful-sounding songs that offer no tunes to hold onto. They seem an odd fit for 4AD, a label mostly home to singular voices. They may be a mercenary signing, an attempt to ride the coattails of Mumford and Sons' success. But Mumford and Sons, as head-smack simple and pandering as they are, have a pretty crucial ingredient in their arsenal: they write anthems. In that regard, they have Stornoway pretty thoroughly beat.
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