Never More Together

Oliver Swain is clearly a very talented chap. Not only does he play double-bass, banjo and guitar extremely well, but he also sports a precise, gentlemanly moustache that The Chap magazine would doubtless approve of. This is a strange album. For one thing, there's Swain's voice. It's a long way from your typical rootsy Americana vocal, often bringing to mind the artful crooning of Roxy Music's Bryan Ferry (or even, at times, Morten Harket from A-ha). Then there's the disquieting way the album swings from rather easy-listening ballads to genuine oddities like ‘Maggie, Molly and Raul’. The latter is indescribably strange, using a nursery rhyme melody to tell the tale of a bisexual love-triangle; it switches abruptly from steampunk Victorian parlour-song into huge, Beatles-style psychedelic rock.

Cinematic instrumentals, lent considerable atmosphere by Swain's weighty bass, are quite a juxtaposition with the upbeat, acoustic-rock of the title-track, or the folk-soul groove of ‘No Strange Thing’, which recalls early Bill Withers or Terry Callier. Even if it's not always convincing, this is a highly original and unpredictable album.