A Strange Kind
AS ITS title states, the debut album from Dublin-based singer/songwriter Adrian Crowley is indeed a strange kind of affair.
Olaf Tyaransen
AS ITS title states, the debut album from Dublin-based singer/songwriter Adrian Crowley is indeed a strange kind of affair. Fortunately, it’s a particularly good kind of strange and, despite its deceptive acoustic simplicity, it’s still quite difficult to pin down. Co-produced by Crowley and The Plague Monkeys’ Donal O’Mahony, the ten tracks featured are all unrelentingly sad, melancholic and angst-ridden, but none the less beautiful for that.
Like atmospheric music for a film we’ve all been in at some stage of our lives (or at least our imaginative lives), the songs seem to be collectively sending someone on their way and mourning the passing of love or life. If you’ve seen the video for atmospheric opening track ‘Capricorn’ on No Disco, then you’ll get the drift. The cheer stops here.
Crowley’s vocals remain understated throughout, layered lightly over a slow blend of acoustic guitars, cellos, pianos and percussion. At times they’re so understated that you can’t make out the lyrics, but sometimes love poems or songs of regret can be far too personal even to sing aloud. And Crowley – when you can hear him – is as poetic a lyricist as the likes of Nick Drake or Jeff Buckley any day; indulgent, abstract and intense but with occasional touches of humour as well. One track sees him imploring an old lover to come into his "emotional playground" to play with his "mood-swings".
Ultimately, however, the words aren’t really all that important – in fact, the two beautifully bleak instrumental tracks say almost as much as the songs. He isn’t attempting to cure heartache through his art, instead he’s nurturing it and savouring the pain, tripping the listener down Melancholy Lane. God knows how he’ll follow it up.
A Strange Kind won’t be to everybody’s taste and doesn’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell of achieving any kind of mainstream success. But then great works of art often don’t and Crowley can take comfort in the fact that those who love it will really love it. But even they will only be able to bear to listen to the tracks of his tears in their darkest of moments.
File under "Uneasy Listening".
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