Review
Reverb has been stripped from much of this record, and the change is audible at once. Neil Halstead's acoustic guitar sits close and dry, its body given room to ring without haze. Where the debut drifted in a fog, this one sounds like a band playing in a bright room, each instrument holding its own edge.
The lineup has grown, and the production uses that space with care. Simon Rowe's electric guitar and Alan Forrester's organ and piano slot in between Rachel Goswell's harmonies and Ian McCutcheon's measured drumming, so songs gain density through addition rather than volume. Nothing rises into a climax. Arrangements widen by degrees, then recede, and the unhurried tempo lets one track settle before the next begins.
The restraint has a cost. Several passages share one pace and one sunlit colour, and on repeated listens the middle of the sequence can blur into a single hum. Yet the crisp mix exposes small details a looser master would bury, so the record rewards attention more than it demands it.
