Record Exchange Boise

Reviews:

At first listen, Damon Gough seems to have degenerated into the paralytically ruminative sad sack some mistook him for all along. On his 2000 debut, The Hour of Bewilderbeast, the ill-sketched lad in question was a welcome counterbalance to every open-mic moper avenging himself acoustically against womankind. And then Gough's two releases from 2002, Have You Fed the Fish? and the soundtrack to About a Boy, were downright jaunty. There is no jaunt to Gough's step on One Plus One Is One; he is jauntless. Even when his songs pop blithely along (a piano is usually a hopeful sign that the rhythms will grow brisker) his mournful brogue drags against the beat.

Immerse yourself, however, and you'll hear lyrics that are as cautiously optimistic and open-hearted as ever. The bright "Four Leaf Clover" ("Go on do what you've got to do/ You've got your dreams I've got mine too") shows up, by contrast, the patronizing feel of most go-your-own-way missives from Cat Stevens to Train. That's not to say there hasn't been a development-Gough is becoming the fussy pop arranger his intricate settings always hinted he might. A kiddie chorale pops in for the chorus of "Year of the Rat," and the many flutes remind us he's not just a folkie-he's a British folkie. Nothing particularly wrong with drifting inward; Gough's mind is a curious place to visit. But the tour was more engaging when he whisked us along, rather than leaving us to wander.

"At first listen, Damon Gough seems to have degenerated into the paralytically ruminative sad sack some mistook him for all along. On his 2000 debut, The Hour of Bewilderbeast, the ill-sketched lad in question was a welcome counterbalance to every open-mic moper avenging himself acoustically against womankind. And then Gough's two releases from 2002, Have You Fed the Fish? and the soundtrack to About a Boy, were downright jaunty. There is no jaunt to Gough's step on One Plus One Is One; he is jauntless. Even when his songs pop blithely along (a piano is usually a hopeful sign that the rhythms will grow brisker) his mournful brogue drags against the beat.

Immerse yourself, however, and you'll hear lyrics that are as cautiously optimistic and open-hearted as ever. The bright ""Four Leaf Clover"" (""Go on do what you've got to do/ You've got your dreams I've got mine too"") shows up, by contrast, the patronizing feel of most go-your-own-way missives from Cat Stevens to Train. That's not to say there hasn't been a development-Gough is becoming the fussy pop arranger his intricate settings always hinted he might. A kiddie chorale pops in for the chorus of ""Year of the Rat,"" and the many flutes remind us he's not just a folkie-he's a British folkie. Nothing particularly wrong with drifting inward; Gough's mind is a curious place to visit. But the tour was more engaging when he whisked us along, rather than leaving us to wander.

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