Oh Mercy - Great BarrierGrief

Thu 31st Mar, 2011 in Music Reviews

There are a few things about Oh Mercy that are unavoidable: Instantly memorable songs, effortless delivery, and garlands of praise at every turn. This is a young band with no shortage of influential admirers, and it’s easy to see why. Though they are pretty and talented, there is a sense that (or perhaps because of it) the band never give themselves away completely. Alex Gow, the band’s face and leader, is capable of subtle sentimentality, and yet he seems to take great pleasure in undercutting this mood with a sardonic turn of phrase, that seems to leave everything unsaid. At their best, they draw you in, and all the comparisons (The Kinks, The Go-Betweens, Belle & Sebastian), though wide of the mark, start to make more sense.

Unfortunately, Great Barrier Grief is not Oh Mercy at their best. Freshly minted from winning the Red Bull Award for Outstanding Potential and with an opportunity to get themselves an A-list producer, Oh Mercy made the choice of Mitch Froom; a man noted both for his light touch and for helping to turn Crowded House into megastars. It’s hard to say which trait more influenced their decision.

Froom’s influence is most distinctly heard in the more natural arrangements, with the largely acoustic instruments allowed more breathing room. This is a welcome change from the lush but at times overcrowded sonics of their debut, Privileged Woes. Privileged Woes took a very effective guitar band and coated them in torch-song fairy floss; Great Barrier Grief strips that away.

The objective is clearly to place these songs, and Gow’s striking delivery, at front and centre. However, having heard the quiet intensity of an Oh Mercy live show, I can not abide the decision to drop the electric guitar and the band in favour of acoustic guitars and session musicians. No doubt Gow is ambitious, but he has a long career in front of him, and it’s not yet time for some the MOR flourishes that pop up on Great Barrier Grief. In attempting to make a unified, ‘statement’ album, much of the touring band’s energy and idiosyncratic charm is lost.

Inspite of this the quality of songs such as the gently yearning Mercy Valley and the forlorn Tenderness are able to overcome this flattening effect. The album is laden with desert and water imagery – Triffids territory – and Gow allows himself a David McComb moment on Mercy Valley, where the “birds pick my brains” and “my bones wash to shore”. It’s vaguely gothic, but it’s convincing; not many other pop singers can carry off images like this, and fewer still would even try. Tenderness is unique; stray thoughts and jewelled images pass by in succession, and the regret merely touched upon by the verses is borne out by the chorus; twinkling guitars, distant, lonely drums, and a stark voice: “Your body is a tender song/then I blink and it’s gone”.

However, these high points are offset by the weaker moments, like On The Run and Let Me Go. These are drier and more direct efforts both lyrically and musically, and they suffer for it. On The Run comes from the perspective of a jaded family man, and though Gow has an eye for detail, he doesn’t utilise it on this vague portrait. Musically, it has about as much conviction as one can expect from an LA pick-up band.

On Let Me Go, that dry turn of phrase comes out sounding just plain nasty, when Gow croons “I’m a single man, don’t fuck on my plans”. Presumably this is the same failed relationship agonised over in the excellent Stay, Please Stay and Blue Lagoon, and whilst Gow should be commended for finally making up his mind, he has far more interesting things to say when he is being indecisive.

There’s no doubting Oh Mercy’s potential, but unfortunately Great Barrier Grief is not the album where it is realised. It is the sound of a mercurial songwriter trying to find the best setting for his obvious talents.